Author: Sarah Lin
Date: 2021-06-04 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy
Description: The arrival of the Hero was worse than anyone could have imagined. The Hero's mad quest to purge the world continues beyond death, but a journey to the far north promises that knowledge might succeed where power could not. Allegedly there are wise sages who understand the Legend, though Tani fears that they have also been consumed by its light. As the group travels into fearsome mountains, they can only hope to prevent the Hero from destroying new lands. Though the sage's mountain promises a simple destiny for everyone, it will test the earthly commitments of each individual. Tani will have he

A Hollow Mountain

Book II of The Brightest Shadow

Version 1.0

© 2021 Sarah Lin

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Quick Table of Contents

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Epilogue

End Content

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The story so far...

Book One: The Brightest Shadow

Part
One: Dawn Again

As a young Rhen warrior, Tani was supposed to go on a Farwalk to explore the world. Her Farwalk has an added element of danger: an invading army of monstrous "Deathspawn" is encroaching on the Chorhan Expanse and threatening her tribe.

Tani travels to the city of Bundlin, spurred on by tales of humans and Deathspawn living there side by side. Near the city, she meets Slaten, a young Oken healer with a warrior’s poise who risks himself to protect a group of Deathspawn civilians from Coran warriors. Slaten confirms that the Deathspawn – who call themselves mansthein – cooperate peacefully with humans in Bundlin, and offers to help Tani find her feet in the city.

Tani learns that Bundlin is divided in half, with humans and mansthein dwelling on opposite sides of the river. She jumps the city walls to scout the mansthein side, but her stealth techniques fail her and she is pursued by an elite Catai warrior. Exhausted by overdrawing her sein, Tani is almost summarily executed before a timely intervention by Kolanin, the commander of the city’s mansthein forces.

To atone for her trespassing, Tani agrees to help with establishing peaceful contact between the mansthein and a Rhen tribe near Bundlin. Traveling with Slaten, she learns that he had previously been a warrior before turning to healing, and they form a tentative friendship discussing the differences between Rhen and Oken sein arts. The meeting with the Yevee proves unexpectedly tense, however, as they discover that mansthein troops have stolen the tribe’s sacred texts, a near-unforgivable violation. Tani agrees to try to retrieve them, resolving to help with defusing the nascent conflict as part of her Farwalk.

Back in Bundlin, Kolanin surmises that the Yevee texts were stolen by the forces of Aryabaus, a mansthein warlord fighting the kingdom of East Corah to the south. He arranges the return of the texts in exchange for guaranteeing the safe passage of Eraes Tor Yin, a Teralanthan specialist with a secret shipment of military supplies. Tani and Slaten are sent as part of the shipment’s escort, along with a brash warrior of minor Coran nobility named Melal.

Though Tani manages to retrieve the Yevee texts from Aryabaus’s soldiers, the convoy is attacked and one of the wagons is destroyed by its explosive contents. Tani and Slaten are caught up in the ensuing battle and the Oken healer is forced to take up a sword to help Tani.

Tani and Slaten return the Yevee texts along with mansthein soldiers, and it seems that a peace treaty will be formed until it is interrupted by a human with impossibly pale eyes. The self-proclaimed Hero slaughters all human or mansthein warriors who stand against him. Tani and Slaten find themselves amongst the few survivors.

Part
Two: Relentless Hope

Bundlin is restless in the aftermath of the massacre, with rumors of the Hero spurring tales of a Legend which foretells the destruction of the Deathspawn by a mighty human warrior. Kolanin’s mansthein-led hunting parties begin to suffer casualties to raiders emboldened by the Legend, so he decides to send trusted humans instead. He calls on Slaten, Tani, and Melal to accompany one of the parties, along with the Teralanthan specialist Eraes.

On their journey, the younger warriors are captured by a pair of strong warriors: a bandit named Veron and a brutal martial artist named Efeinas. Both are working for the Hero, who demands that they follow them. Tani, Slaten and the others find themselves overwhelmed by the Hero’s presence, unable to think clearly or resist his commands, and follow him towards a mansthein outpost where the Hero’s allies are being held captive.

A pitched battle breaks out and they enter the outpost to free the prisoners. Slaten frees a warrior who introduces herself as Celivia and agrees to help fight. Tani encounters a master warrior named Jaer Krylyl, but he declines to join them and leaves when the battle turns in the humans’ favor.

News of the attack reaches Bundlin before long, as well as a Voidwalker messenger from Ith Silvaros who delivers new orders to Kolanin: to hunt down and kill the Hero. Meanwhile, the Hero’s wounded band of fighters makes slow progress away from the outpost until they meet and recruit an earnest Estronese healer named Laeri. Freshly restored, they next come upon an occupied village, where the Hero brutally slaughters a caravan including a pregnant mansthein woman.

Kolanin arrives too late to prevent the bloodshed, but his forces combat the Hero's. Though badly wounded and taken by surprise by the human warrior’s ability to resist seemingly-fatal blows, Kolanin manages to resist the Hero's presence and deliver a decisive blow to end the Hero’s quest.

Traumatized by the Hero's presence, the remaining human warriors scatter. Tani and Slaten form a small group and manage to hide in hilly terrain south of the Chorhan Expanse. Veron reveals that there have been multiple Heroes, and to their horror, Efeinas begins to take on the aura of the Hero. Again captured by his presence, they train during the long rainy season as Efeinas prepares for war.

Kolanin is summoned to the mansthein capital to report the Hero’s death to their Senate, and is ordered to establish a mine in the Chorhan Expanse for suspicious reasons. Before returning to Breilin, he is also summoned to meet the powerful Zeitai Teirsan, who has his own objectives to add to Kolanin’s growing list of responsibilities.

As the rainy season ends, the fledgling Hero recruits a force of local bandits and sets forth to attack Bundlin. Slaten, Tani, Melal, Eraes, Veron, Celivia and Laeri are all drawn along in his wake, unable to resist the mind-hazing effects of the Legend. Slaten manages to break ahead to warn Kolanin, but is too late to prevent the battle reaching the gates. As the Hero’s forces slaughter their way through the city, they are met by two terrifyingly-powerful Deathspawn masters: Zeitai Xetsu and Zeitai Sepultus. Together, they defeat Efeinas and depart with his remains, leaving Bundlin devastated in their wake.

Part
Three: Records of Nothing

Slaten awakens from seinshock to discover that he and most of his allies have been sent to Ith Ire, the prison mine run by Kolanin. He explains that both mansthein and humans have been forbidden from leaving the mine under any circumstances. Conditions are tense and the purpose of the excavation is kept secret.

Having escaped capture at Bundlin, Tani and Veron both travel across the Chorhan Expanse. Veron falls back to her old career as a bandit until she encounters a group calling itself the Coran Resistance and joins them. Tani attempts to find the location her allies were taken to, eventually meeting a Rhen warrior named Subenor who is stealing tribal texts. Tani realizes that he stole the texts near Bundlin as well, but is outmatched until Jaer Krylyl returns and forces Subenor to retreat. Tani travels with Jaer for a time and learns a mental technique from him to resist the influence of the Hero. As they part, he gifts her a set of throwing knives.

Back in Ith Ire, a new Hero arises and begins to fight the guards, but she is killed and the mansthein restore order quickly. Kolanin explains that this is the reason nobody can leave: the Legend is being treated as a disease and quarantined in the prison camp.

The next Hero awakens when mansthein reinforcements are sent to Ith Ire. Though the uprising ends quickly, Kolanin recognizes that Aryabaus and other mansthein are also increasing instability. Soon after, the miners unexpectedly break into an ancient chamber deep underground. The walls are covered with depictions of the Legend, though the details do not exactly match the stories told by humans.

During another uprising, Slaten has a vision of a vast white city surrounded by golden flames. A shining version of himself offers him the chance to become a new Hero, but Slaten hesitates and the vision ends. Slaten is nearly killed by mansthein before Tani arrives, using her new mental technique to save him and resist a similar vision. Melal is the next one to be drawn into the white city, and he grasps the chance triumphantly and becomes the next Hero.

Tani and Slaten manage to persuade Melal to wait and build his strength instead of immediately attacking the mansthein, and the mine settles back into uneasy stability. Tani is sexually assaulted by one of the mine overseers, but is saved by Celivia, who kills him and hides the body.

When Melal is drawn to the ancient chamber in the depths of the mine, he finds a brilliant crystal disc which he draws into himself. Newly emboldened, he begins to slay any Deathspawn he finds, and the camp starts to tear itself apart. Eraes escapes and returns to Teralanth, but Tani and the others decide to lead Melal away from the battle. Veron arrives with the Coran Resistance, forcibly taking them back to the Resistance hideout.

Part Four: Bitter Loyalty

Kolanin is left to pick up the pieces at Ith Ire. Aryabaus recruits Kolanin into his forces and reveals that the mansthein have successfully embedded a spy in the Coran Resistance.

Tani, Slaten, Melal, Laeri, and Celivia are accepted into the Resistance despite the misgivings of its hostile leader, Destrela. Before being trusted to take part in assignments, they are first instructed to train under Balunel, a blind, elderly Coran master.

Veron goes on a routine caravan raid, but the ambush is reversed when it transpires that one of the wagons contains a unit of shock troops called Bersk. Due to losses in the ensuing fight, the Resistance is forced to start sending the younger warriors out on assignments.

Kolanin is sent across the Chorhan Expanse on administrative duties. After negotiating a truce with a Rhen tribe, he is approached by Subenor with an offer of assistance in rooting out the Coran Resistance. He declines, but suspects that the Rhen warrior will find another way. His next task is to assess the garrison in the Coran town of Gerant, where he comes to know many of the soldiers personally.

Tani and Slaten go to investigate a village under the Resistance's protection that has been slaughtered. They learn that it was done not by mansthein but by Subenor: he nearly kills Melal and severs one of Tani’s fingers before being forced to retreat.

In response, the Resistance decides to liberate Gerant from Deathspawn control. The attack goes as planned, but Veron catches Destrela in the act of stealing the town’s cash hoard for herself, agreeing to share the spoils. Recovered from his injuries, Melal kills many, for the first time having the same presence as the previous Heroes.

Back at the Resistance hideout, the celebrations run long into the night. The lax security makes Tani and Slaten nervous, and they begin to fear a traitor. Tani discovers Laeri trying to leave and spots an advancing mansthein army, while Slaten catches Destrela taking the looted money and deserting through a secret exit. Neither proves to be the traitor, however: Celivia ambushes and kills Destrela, revealing herself in the process to be a mansthein in an induced human form. Tani is infuriated by the betrayal and views her previous connection with Celivia as manipulative. She goes to raise the alarm while Slaten faces Celivia.

The hung-over Resistance army is overwhelmed by the surprise attack, and the battle turns to a rout. Balunel holds off the Catai long enough for Tani to help Veron, Melal, and Laeri escape via the secret exit. Celivia has overpowered Slaten, but escapes instead of killing him. Melal exhorts them all to continue with the fight, but his Heroic aura has less effect and they go their separate ways: Slaten to his Oken home village, Tani and Laeri to Nelee lands, and Veron to the nearest bar.

Part Five: Total Victory

Celivia is granted a rebirth to return to her true mansthein form, but her request for promotion is refused. She is instead reassigned to serve under Aryabaus in the Chorhan Expanse. Kolanin returns to Bundlin, but finds little there except shattered bridges and traumatized warriors.

Tani is overjoyed to return to her home village and formally complete her Farwalk, but finds herself restless as she considers what to do next. Laeri is convinced that they should return to follow Melal, while Tani wants nothing to do with him. Slaten’s return is less joyful, as he finds that he fits into Oken life no better than when he first left his home village. Before long, he finds himself back on the road towards Ith Ire. When Veron starts to feel the pull of the Legend, she realizes that she can't escape.

Tani's tribe is attacked by mansthein led by Subenor, trying to steal their sacred texts. The attempt is foiled, but Tani realizes that she cannot stay. She requests leave from the Nelee masters and sets out with Laeri to meet with the others.

Melal raises an army from the traumatized warriors roaming across the Chorhan Expanse. When Aryabaus sends his main forces to war, Melal takes the opportunity to attack him in his tower. Kolanin, Celivia and Subenor are amongst the fortress’s defenders: Kolanin holds back Melal while Tani and Slaten close in on Celivia, but Subenor ambushes them both from the rooftops. Tani gives chase, leaving Slaten to face off against their former ally.

Kolanin tries to draw on his previous connections with Melal and persuade him to talk instead of fighting, but the Hero cuts him down. Veron joins with Tani to fight Subenor across the rooftops and together they defeat him, though Veron is badly wounded in the process. Slaten and Celivia fight to a standstill, but she saves his life from her allies. Realizing that the battle for the keep is lost, she retreats once more.

Melal seems outmatched against Aryabaus, but more fully becomes the Hero and pierces the Deathspawn through the heart. As he descends the tower in triumph, his followers join him and they walk north, onward into the Legend...

Part 1

Whispers of Meaning

Chapter 1

-

"Text: In the middle years of my life, I - Telekrainas the Great - realized that I had extensively explored all of my native lands, from the westernmost reaches of Tur-Nol to the dry eastern lands of Nol, from the Nollan Ridge to the tip of the Ulcensan Spear. So I set my eyes further and sought to explore north, to the very ends of this vast continent of Breilin, in order to see what wonders could be had and to create a record of my travels to delight and edify.

Gloss: Telekrainas was a con artist who lived in the last century of the Nollan Imperium. What is notable about his record, unlike many similar documents of the time, was that Telekrainas did truly travel much of the continent while on the run from lawful authorities. There is no record of him being called 'Telekrainas the Great' in any document aside from this one."

- excerpt from The Annotated Travels of Telekrainas the Great

-

The Great Sage of the Chorhan Expanse lay in a puddle of his own drool, one scrawny arm falling into the pile of refuse beside him. Nothing about the scene, from the filthy mattress to the stained stack of bowls, looked like it should be part of the Legend. Yet this was where all the signs had directed them.

As she stared at the unfortunate man, Tani found herself struggling to swallow a sigh. Half a year of searching had led them to this? She had desperately hoped that their journey would lead them to some kind of explanation that could make sense of the madness of the Hero, yet if this man was the sage, that seemed unlikely.

"Well, this was definitely worth the journey." Veron prodded the man with her shoe and the sides of the former bandit's mouth twitched slightly. "If all it takes to be a sage is to be this drunk, I'd have volunteered."

Melal pushed in past her, glowering down without any trace of heroic light. "There's no time for your nonsense, woman. Has something been done to him? Poison, perhaps? The Deathspawn would be overjoyed to poison a Sage."

"Nonsense? I couldn't be more sincere. I'm feeling an overwhelming passion for exploring the arcane arts of the sages."

"He's still alive." Melal checked the man's breath and blanched, then gestured back to the group. "Laeri, come here and find out what's wrong with him."

Laeri nodded and shuffled in, clutching her staff with one hand and her nose with the other. When the healer bent down to examine the sage, however, she withdrew into herself. Tani examined her carefully, trying to better understand the sein that flowed through her, but Laeri's arts were still beyond her.

Instead she withdrew from the unpleasant room. She found Slaten on the other side of the threshold, grimly examining the narrow street. The swordsman had been increasingly on edge ever since they'd passed an Oken town, but she didn't question him about his relationship with his people. Instead she merely shared a nod between warriors and waited outside while Laeri did her work.

The town of Kanalgan was one of the last before the mountains, saved from being another circular Coran village by the hills beneath it. They shattered the typical patterns into an ungainly sprawl of streets and huts linked by steep paths and occasionally stairs. Though not impressive, she admired the way the people adapted to the land beneath them. Southern Corans would have attempted to flatten all the hills.

"Umm, I'm finished, I think." Laeri looked out toward them. "Does everyone want to hear?"

Melal scowled. "Just say what's wrong with him."

"Ah, of course... his breath smells like he's been drinking, but I don't think he had very much. But he's not sleeping either, you know? There's something foul in his body, I think some sort of relaxing remedy."

"Then wake him up!"

Laeri flinched and shook her head. "He, ah, he's taken a great deal of the substance. It could be dangerous to do too much to him, and you don't want him to die, right? It might take me a long time..."

Since Melal folded his arms to wait, Laeri nodded several times to no one in particular and then set about her work. Tani was about to ask whether that was a wise decision, given the risk of their presence, but at that moment Veron turned toward them.

"If we're going to be stuck here, I suggest the two of you go and buy supplies. I have a feeling we're going off on another journey."

"Are you sure?" Tani asked. She looked past Veron to Melal, but the Hero only continued to stare down at the unconscious man. Eventually she nodded and turned away, patting the pouch at her belt as she considered what they would need.

Like every other aspect of their journey, money came and went sporadically. Melal tended to waste what they had, but every time the situation had become desperate, he'd come through with more. Sometimes villagers feted him as the Hero, sometimes they raided mansthein patrols, and once he literally tripped over a bag of money. She'd tried to hold back funds for emergencies, yet somehow they always ended up used. They were fortunate that they had enough to prepare for a mountain expedition.

Though some parts of their journey went smoothly, and Laeri believed they were blessed by the Legend, Tani continued her mental arts and tried to maintain focus. The remaining veterans from the battle had been killed or simply slipped away, one by one. Now it was only the five of them again.

Tani glanced over at Slaten as he kept pace beside her, his eyes sweeping the small town for threats. With Veron drinking more often and Laeri swept up in Melal's heroic purpose, he was the only confidant she had. Though that was hardly a complaint, as Slaten had been a good friend and a reliable ally, increasingly so now that he'd learned Jaer's mental arts as well.

"Is something wrong?" He caught her gaze and returned it, so Tani merely shook her head.

"Do you think that man is really the sage?"

"Given that only Melal seems to know what that means, it's hard to say." Slaten continued walking for a time before he spoke up again. "But according to the rumors, he declared himself a sage in the same way Melal declared himself the Hero. Maybe there's something to it."

"This would be easier if Melal knew what he was actually looking for. Hopefully this will be a start."

"Hopefully." His lips twisted ironically at the word.

Tani inclined her head for them to take a side street, moving toward the markets they had passed earlier. "I doubt that this will answer all our questions, though, so I have a bad feeling that Melal will want to keep going north. And if this isn't far enough north..."

"Then we'll have to cross the Sotunn Mountains."

Though he was only saying what she already knew, Tani still shivered. Not in apprehension, but anticipating the temperatures to come. The air had already become much cooler as they traveled into the hills and Laeri said that this was nothing compared to truly colder regions. Laeri often exaggerated such things, but in this case Tani was afraid that she might be right.

On their way north, Tani had spoken with Nelee warriors from her tribe who had journeyed outside the Chorhan Expanse. They emphasized how cold it could be, apparently so cold that rain fell as snow. Tani tried to prepare herself for such a climate, but suspected that she was just imagining a slightly cooler version of the long rainy season instead of true cold.

When they reached the pit between hills that served as a market, Tani set about buying clothes first. Her master had given her new pants and a jacket with beautiful designs on the armored plates, but those might not be enough. She found a dark blue cloak that struck her as much too warm and hoped that would be sufficient.

Once she'd finished haggling, she looked over to where Slaten was buying food. It seemed he was simply buying large amounts of aurochs jerky and dried fruit again, but they needed food that would last a trip through the mountains. With his layered Oken robes he was surely warm enough. Since he was still making purchases, Tani returned to the shop owner and purchased the other two cloaks the woman had available, just in case Veron and Laeri became cold.

They met at the side of the street, in the shade of one of the awnings. Slaten hefted his pack and frowned. "I still have money, but I don't know how much food we can realistically carry."

"We'll need more than food," Tani said. She started to say more, but at that moment her eyes wandered over Slaten's shoulder and she froze.

The figures wore hooded robes, but she caught a glimpse of red eyes and mottled skin. It looked like they were heavily armed, too. In an instant she was certain that they were no mansthein travelers, but Deathspawn warriors. No matter what they were doing in Kanalgan, their presence meant nothing good.

Tani hissed a wordless warning and jerked her head toward the gap between two slanting buildings. Slaten followed automatically until the shadows shrouded them, then peered out cautiously. The moment had passed, but when he saw the cloaked group he understood.

"Mansthein?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Hunting us?"

"I'm not sure, but why else would they hide themselves like that?"

Slaten frowned thoughtfully. "They don't control the forests north of the Expanse. It could be that they want to avoid a show of force."

"That could be true, but is it worth the risk?" She asked the question, but there was no need for an answer. Every time Melal encountered mansthein forces, it ended in blood. "Do you think we should tell the others immediately?"

"I don't think they're going to the sage's house." They watched in silence for a while longer, but the group of mansthein soldiers stepped into a tavern. When they didn't emerge for some time, Slaten nodded to himself. "Telling Melal will only bring trouble sooner. Let's finish buying supplies in case we need to run again."

"In case? When do we do otherwise?" Tani cast him a wry smile. "That actually relates to something I was going to say earlier: we're not going to have many chances to buy equipment in the mountains. If we have excess money..."

He nodded in agreement and they emerged from the gap between houses. The market pit didn't include any metalworking shops, as these towns were ordered according to a strange pattern Tani wasn't entirely sure she understood. It seemed familiar to Slaten, however, and so she followed his lead to another street.

There she discovered a number of shops. The majority were dedicated to practical tools, not weapons, which was actually what she needed. She had cared well for her knives, but a broken ring was cutting through one of the straps holding her knives in place and she needed a proper whetstone for them. Fortunately, one of the shop owners said he could supply both.

As she waited, her hand rested on the sickle knife at her belt. Though she associated it with her master, the steel and forging technique had hailed from the far north. She didn't know if their path would take them all the way across the Sotunn mountains, yet part of her hoped that it would. Difficult as the journey might be, she would like to see such distant lands and better understand the arts that made her new sickle knife so sharp and durable.

Yet to travel north would be to leave lands the Rhen wandered, likely for a long time. Thousands of steps in foreign nations without any kin or even familiar enemies. Though she tried to tell herself it was another Farwalk, gathering wisdom she could carry back to the Chorhan Expanse, she needed time to swallow the realization that she would be stepping away from what she knew.

Once she felt prepared, she followed Slaten and found him in a small smithy, staring at the three swords that had been placed on the table before him. None were as well-crafted as his Oken blade... except when she looked to find the strangely curved blade, she discovered that he only had a single straight Coran sword at his side.

"Didn't you carry an Oken blade?"

He looked up at her and nodded, something like guilt in his eyes. "It was lost in one of our escapes. I... struggle to remember exactly when."

"You don't need to act like that was your fault, Slaten." Tani paused, examining him more carefully. He was always somber, but this was something else. After glancing toward the man running the shop, she stepped closer and spoke in a low voice. "Are you alright?"

"I'm only apprehensive about what this sage will mean for us."

"I... don't think that's true. If you ever want to talk, Slaten, I hope you know that you can talk to me."

For several moments Slaten examined the swords in front of him, then he answered quietly. "Returning Teren to our home was more difficult for me than I thought. For so long, my goal was to save her from... all this. But now that she's safe, I... it's clear that I'm just following in the Hero's wake. It feels empty."

"That's not true, Slaten. If we're ever going to understand what the Legend really is, what it actually means, then we'll need your help. And without you, we'd have died when that patrol caught us outside Hunalan."

"And another Hero would have appeared somewhere else."

His words brought silence down over both of them. Though Tani accepted the grim truth, she wouldn't let it master her so easily. In the wake of the victory against Aryabaus, Melal had shone so brightly that it was difficult to think about the Legend logically, much less speak of it. But as the glory faded over the following days, she'd come to grips with the impossibilities wrapped up in the Hero.

"We're making a difference, Slaten." Tani smiled at him and reached out to touch his hand, grateful that he no longer flinched away as if the contact meant too much. "Killing Aryabaus helped the Chorhan Expanse become more peaceful and Melal hasn't... done anything like what happened in Bundlin. Even if we don't have a true solution, we're saving lives."

"Perhaps." His smile appeared only briefly before submerging again. "But even if we figured out what to do about the Legend, I feel... I tried to be a healer and I failed. The Hero cannot be killed, even if killing it would solve our problem. I don't have anything to offer. Beyond following, I don't know what I would do."

Tani shook her head sadly. "Do you truly feel that way? If there was no Legend... we could do so much. We have our whole lives yet to walk, Slaten. You don't need to hold any significance beyond what you mean to others, and our world needs warriors. You can't tell me that you wouldn't enjoy training for its own sake, instead of constantly risking our lives."

He nodded reluctantly. "That might be enough for me. I don't know if it would be enough for others." After a long pause, Slaten picked up one of the swords and went to negotiate with the owner of the shop. Tani stared down at the remaining blades for a time.

She could understand Slaten's frustration with the Legend, but not his despair toward life. Despite everything, she enjoyed their lifestyle: running to scout ahead, letting sein flow through her, sparring in the evenings. There was more happiness laid before her than she could possibly grasp in one lifetime.

Yet she only felt more certain that the Legend needed to be resolved for that happiness to be safe. Melal might seem lazy and nonthreatening at most times, but she remembered his predecessors. She remembered the terrible light that had burned around him in the wake of the battle. That light would destroy everything she cared about unless she understood it.

Stepping outside the shop, Tani scouted carefully for the mansthein soldiers. Judging from the townspeople's concerned looks, they mansthein remained within the tavern. Since their errands had taken less time than expected, Tani decided that it would be safe to search for something much more important: information.

She considered asking the locals about the mansthein troops, but decided against it. There was a chance they would report the questions to the soldiers, and no matter how many times their group met local collaborators, they always threw Melal into a murderous rage. Instead, she needed to find information about the sage, not to mention the path north, that was untainted by the Legend.

How best to learn that information? Slaten emerged from the shop, but they agreed to meet back at the sage's house and then split up. She began wandering, considering the simple stalls. In theory she might buy information from any of them, but she had relatively little money left and they would no doubt tell any lies they thought might be profitable. Here, far from home and with no social connections, it would be difficult to find truth.

Abruptly Tani spotted something she hadn't seen in some time: an ashweed hut. Her tribe of Nelee rarely smoked ashweed and Corans always smoked it beneath the sky, so the sight was almost confusing despite the symbols beside the doors. They were symbols of welcoming and connections between Rhen tribes, so Tani took a deep breath and stepped inside.

Within the smokey interior, she made out the few figures currently smoking ashweed. There were a few warriors with ashweed bowls and a woman bearing a mother's pouch who looked like she desperately needed a rest. However, there was an old man holding a pipe who gave her a friendly nod, so she smiled back and sank down onto the cushion beside him.

Some Rhen in the region had adopted Coran or Oken dress, but the old man remained defiantly Rhen with his blue jacket and headband. Judging from the embroidery and his raven hair, he was Lanoo. Normally that might be little grounds for a connection, but here it was enough.

"Khenor of the Lanoo." He extended his palm as if the formality didn't matter to him, so Tani only briefly put her hand over his and inclined her head.

"Tani of the Nelee. I do not smoke ashweed, but I would partake of your wisdom."

That got a chuckle from Khenor. "I thought you looked like a young woman with many things on her mind. Keep me company for a time and I will consider the debt paid."

"Thank you, elder." Since he had been so polite, she did her best not to cough when he puffed on his pipe and released a long stream of smoke. Tani quickly gathered her doubts together and discovered questions within them. "I fear that my companions may soon need to cross the Sotunn mountains, but we are unprepared for such a journey. Can you guide us?"

"For a start, now is a poor time. Not the worst, but the most fearsome ice has yet to melt. A wise warrior would wait." Khenor sucked on the lip of his pipe, eyes twinkling at her. "But I think that you do not have that choice, child. Am I right?"

"You are, elder. It may be a hurried journey, but I hope to prepare as well as I can."

With a slow nod, the Lanoo elder began to tell her what he knew. He had not journeyed over the Sotunn mountains himself, and she felt no awareness of sein from him, but he still had a lifetime of experience speaking to merchants and traveling warriors. Many of his suggestions regarded which passes were the safest to take, though in the end he shook his head.

"But I am told that little is safe these days, thanks to the raiders." Khenor toyed with the pipe between his lips, watching the smoke instead of breathing in. "Your choices are to bring a large number of guards or to travel lightly and pray you pass safely."

"Is it not possible to fight these raiders?"

Her question earned her a surprised blink, and Tani realized that the life of sein-trained warriors was far from this man's mind. Soon enough he went back to shaking his head. "They are so dangerous that even the town guards fear them. Some warriors have set out into the mountains to defeat them, but those who survived came back with few trophies. The mountains themselves are dangerous and the raiders know them too well."

"Who are these raiders? What do they fight for?"

"For themselves, child. They are the castoffs of many nations, surviving in the Sotunn mountains only by stealing from those who create. In my father's time there were fewer of them and the crossing was threatened only by ice and rock, but I have seen their numbers increase and increase."

Tani chewed on her lip, considering what he had said. Bandits were common enough, but generally not a major threat: most who had training in sein could find other work, with Veron proving one of the few exceptions. Yet if a group of raiders was spoken of as such a significant problem, then they must be a larger threat than the inevitable bandits.

"Do they attack lone travelers?" Tani asked. "I imagine they must target mostly merchant caravans."

"Just so, child, just so. Still, many of their tribes are said to seek out combat, so you should be careful. The Redbranches are a local scourge. The Bonewalkers have been known to threaten entire villages. And the Stormpeaks are a terrible threat no matter where you travel."

"What about the Deathspawn?" The name came surprisingly easy to her lips, after using it so often with Melal. That made her think of Kolanin, and her heart ached, but Tani wrestled those feelings under control to listen to the old man's answer.

"Those filth lurk near, and they are growing more active. They claim they will do something about the raiders." Khenor shook his pipe toward the door to show what he thought of that. "No one likes them here, but they will enact vengeance on our families if anyone raises a hand against them."

"I saw a group in town today and it worried me."

"That, at least, you do not need to fear. No doubt they are just passing through as part of their new deception. They only made false claims about stopping the raiders, but it is true enough that they are bringing in soldiers."

"So there will be Deathspawn in the mountains as well as raiders? Do you know anything else about them?"

"Very little, child. It seems to be small groups of soldiers with special commanders. We saw them thirty days back, coming through town... one of them was even a woman! A Deathspawn woman! She did not look as filthy as the others, and she had long silver hair, but there was evil in her eyes. Believe me, I have never seen such pure evil."

Tani's breath caught in her throat. She immediately tried to swallow her reaction, telling herself that it couldn't possibly be Celivia - even if the old man was correct, that description could match many Deathspawn women. It didn't matter. Despite all her mental training, Tani found herself spiraling back to the moment when Celivia had betrayed her and the rest of the Coran resistance...

"Do not fear, child, do not fear. With any luck, the Deathspawn and the raiders will kill each other and you will be able to pass freely."

"Thank you, elder." Tani gave him a weak smile, surprised that he had mistaken her hatred for fear. The conversation slid to an awkward halt.

Instead of letting her emotions control her, Tani grasped the mental arts that Jaer had taught her and considered carefully. Even if the mansthein woman had been Celivia, that information was irrelevant. What mattered was that the Deathspawn were active in the region. All she needed to do was pass the information along to the others, though she decided not to mention the silver-haired mansthein woman. Slaten had somehow managed to forgive Celivia and the fact might cloud his judgment.

"I am sorry for asking about terrible things, elder, but I am merely worried for my journey." She managed to improve her smile a little as she faced Khenor again. "Let us speak of something lighter. I have heard such strange stories about a man calling himself a 'sage' of some kind..."

"Ah, poor Ranenal!" The old man shook his head, a smile on his lips but sorrow in his eyes. "He was always a strange one, but last year... he wandered into the mountains, and when he returned, he had changed. Once he was a cobbler like his father... but I suppose that does not matter to you."

"It is still interesting! You say that he only made these claims recently, after he returned?"

Khenor breathed in until his pipe must be empty, then released the smoke slowly before he spoke again. "It started just over a year ago, when he suddenly claimed that he could see the Legend. As if anyone could see the oldest story in the world! He said he was called into the mountains, but... I do not know if he found anything there, but he returned unhappy."

She had already been faking her positive mood, so Tani dropped her smile as soon as she had a reason. "I am truly sorry to hear that. I had hoped he was merely a local eccentric."

"No longer, I am afraid. There seems to be no sense to his ramblings, so he may simply be yet another of those driven mad by talk of the Legend. Usually the worst of those come up from the Expanse, but apparently such madness can be found in the mountains as well."

That, more than anything else the man had said, sent a chill through her body. Everywhere she had traveled, people spoke of the Legend, but it had gained new meaning with the arrival of the Hero... and that meaning was spreading. It had been more dire with the Heroes before Melal, but even with him, the process only seemed to be growing worse. All around her, the world grew brighter and brighter...

As soon as she could while being polite, Tani made her excuses and left the smokehouse. Once she was outside, she breathed deeply of the smoke-free air, but it wasn't enough to restore her mood. She could force herself to focus, but she couldn't banish all thoughts of the Legend or that betrayer.

Tani took in her surroundings to find Slaten - and immediately smelled mint. The sensation was a shock to her mind, warning her that immensely powerful sein flowed nearby. A year ago, she would have reacted automatically by letting her own sein flow and escaping.

Now, she automatically analyzed the source before acting. As her intuition had guessed, it wasn't exactly a threat, just a display of force. There was a Deathspawn Catai looming on the street nearby, sein coursing through his body like a river. He wasn't threatening anyone, just watching carefully to see who reacted to his display.

It had been a trap. Tani forced herself to breathe normally and walk away at a normal pace.

If he was searching for her specifically, he wouldn't have used such a technique. Either the Catai was looking for trouble, or he had a suspicion that a sein-trained warrior hid in the area. Several guards reacted with panic and one idiot actually raised a sword, but the enormous Deathspawn ignored them. Perhaps he had more dangerous searching arts.

As she walked, Tani let her sein flow through her as subtly as possible, wrapping herself in the air. Such arts came easily to her, as the smell of mint had been her first experience with sein, but her ability to use sein to mask herself had always been less developed than her other skills. She'd corrected a bit of that imbalance during their journey, but now she found herself wishing she'd done more.

Though she began with the smell of mint, that soon faded away. Instead she placed herself in the forests of her home, lying on the sunlight-dappled ground. She sank into the experience, becoming only one of the motes hanging in the light. Nothing worthy of notice, not resisting any foreign sein attempting to find her, simply existing in a pure state.

How well it worked, she couldn't be sure. But Tani heard the Catai stomp off in a different direction and continued walking. The smile on her face wasn't even triumphant, simply content as she emerged from the memories.

After the close encounter, she hastened back to the sage's house as quickly as she could without drawing attention. Thankfully, once she arrived she saw that Slaten had returned as well. He was talking with Veron in a low voice and both of them looked up when she arrived.

"There you are." Veron fixed her with a smirk. "You took the time to sleep with the local Rhen?"

"Have some faith in their stamina." Tani simply rolled her eyes at the jibe and gave Slaten a serious glance. "Did you see that they have a Catai? I was told the mansthein have other reasons for being in Kanalgan, but I think we have to be cautious."

"Both of you are so uptight about this! I'm sure we slipped them back at Hunalan."

"I'm not convinced." Tani looked past Veron to Slaten, who nodded slightly before speaking.

"I didn't learn anything else about them, but I did see the Catai. After that, I returned here so that we could depart as quickly as possible. Unfortunately..." He shifted to look back into the building and for a moment Tani feared that the sage would be dead.

Instead, she discovered the man sitting up and rubbing his grimy face with one hand. Laeri sat beside him, leaning on her staff. There was only one problem: Melal was nowhere to be seen.

Tani looked back to the others, not needing to ask her question. After a brief pause, Veron shrugged. "He got bored and left to get a drink. I'd have joined him, since it was a damn good idea, except for the Melal part. Anyway, I figure we should wait."

That didn't make any sense to Tani, so she stepped inside. Instead of focusing first on the stranger, she instead knelt down beside Laeri. "Did you succeed in healing him?"

"He's mostly healthy now." Laeri chewed on her lower lip nervously. "But I'm not skilled enough to undo the long term damage he's done to himself by abusing various substances. There's also... something odd, something I wasn't able to fix. But you can talk to him if you want."

"Not likely." The sage scowled at her with bloodshot eyes. "I've slept off worse, so I didn't need your healing. All of this is just a big interruption. You can talk to me if I want."

"I don't think you can stop me from talking," Tani said, "but I hope you'll listen as well. We've traveled a long way to meet you, so I hope you really are the sage you claim to be."

"Well, that depends on what you've heard." He rubbed his face vigorously again, then hunted for something in his teeth with his tongue. Eventually failing, he just stared at them sourly. "I'll admit you've got something of the spark around you, but you're no Hero. For all I know, you're working for the Deathspawn. Besides, I don't know anything."

Some naive part of Tani had been hoping that the sage would prove more grand once he awoke, but as he scratched beneath his robe, that dream evaporated. Still, she wasn't willing to give up. "If you don't know anything, why did you call yourself a sage?"

"I started saying that back when I thought I could see everything. Then when I changed my mind, it was too late. I don't have it in me."

"Are you saying that we've come all this way for nothing?"

"More or less. Go look for the Legend somewhere el..." He trailed off in the middle of a word, staring over her shoulder. Before Tani turned, she felt Melal's presence as he stepped into the room. Even in the shadowed chamber, his hair seemed to shine and his eyes glimmered so pale blue they were nearly white.

"You're the sage?" Melal folded his arms over his broad chest. "Start talking. Just who are you?"

A change visibly shuddered through the man, his slumped posture straightening and his eyes lighting up. It reminded Tani of all the seinshocked veterans, animated by frenzied passion for the Legend. Though he didn't rise, the sage seemed to swell as he spoke, his voice now more resonant.

"The Legend is not meant to be carried within one person. The Hero draws it forward, but others bear fragments." His eyes swept over Tani and the others as they entered the room. "You carry the potential to become the Hero's companions. Those who respond to the Legend not with strength, but with wisdom... we are called sages."

"Great." Melal leaned in and frowned down at the man. "You'd better have more to say than that. I was called here for another reason... as if... you can see the path I am meant to walk."

"Perhaps some can. But not this sage." All presence left the man and he dropped his gaze to the empty bowl at his side. "I cannot see far enough or clearly enough. You must seek out others who will cast their own lights upon your destiny."

"That sounds like it will take too much time. Which sage is strongest?"

The rumpled man stared at him with bleary eyes, then gave a nod of pure exhaustion. "I cannot say for sure, but when I attempted to find truth in the mountains, I met a man... I have never seen anyone who saw the path half so well. I have heard it said he moved to live atop Mount Tmil, guarded against the Deathspawn, but that is all I can tell you of him."

"Good enough." Melal turned around as if he'd already forgotten about the sage and shot everyone a bright grin. "Then we know where we're going next: Mount Tmil. Does anyone know where that is?"

"Oh, this is going to be cold." Veron rubbed her eyes, then looked over at Tani. "I don't suppose you bought anything to drink? I think I'm gonna need it."

Destiny accomplished, they gathered their supplies and headed out of the dingy shack. Tani found herself staring backward, trying to catch a glimpse of the sage. Had this moment been his purpose in the Legend? Now that it had passed, would a weight have fallen from his shoulders? The way he slumped on his bed, it looked more as if the words had been wrenched from within him, leaving a hollow shell.

Part of her wanted to go back and speak to him, though she had no idea what she would say. But at that moment Slaten put a hand on her shoulder. "Tani, it looks like the mansthein are moving. It might not be related, but they could have noticed us. We need to leave."

She nodded, pulling herself back together. Such things had happened many times before during the long days where they had searched for the sage. Now that they had found him, she felt certain that the peaceful part of their journey had ended.

Chapter 2

-

"Text: Even the rudest rube knows that north of the lands we know lies the Kingdom of Corah which is a land of bold warriors clad in clothes of metal who are quick to friendship but quicker to anger. They build with rough stone and yet they create great mounds of rock from which they do battle with one another.

Gloss: The text was written before Corah split into three nations, of course. Your humble annotator wishes to point out that the original text was mostly free of sentences, so punctuation has been added for the reader's benefit in this annotated edition."

- excerpt from The Annotated Travels of Telekrainas the Great

-

Slaten had never realized how much he took for granted the endless sky stretching over the plains. He had thought he knew hills from the south of the Chorhan Expanse, but those were mere rumples in fabric compared to the slopes they now crossed. The earth and stone encroached on the sky, as if they descended even though they walked uphill.

Ahead of them, the Sotunn Mountains loomed stationary in the distance. They were already climbing, but judging from the peaks ahead, they would climb much higher. Up to that point, they could follow the stars and head north, avoiding the main roads. Now cliffs and crevices tore apart the fields, making the going much more difficult. When they reached the actual mountains, he didn't think that traveling aimlessly would be possible, or at least survivable.

Yet onward they marched, Melal in the lead. Slaten had been guarding their rear, but now moved forward, nodding to Tani to keep a lookout. He passed Laeri, who was struggling with the rough terrain, and Veron, who was cursing under her breath as she tried to dislodge a rock from her boot. By the time he came alongside Melal, he had gathered his thoughts.

"It sounds as though we'll have a difficult journey to find the sage of Mount Tmil."

Melal grunted in acknowledgment without looking at him. "The path of the Legend would be too easy otherwise, wouldn't it? The first sage was but a signpost leading us to the true path."

"Just as you say, this will be a difficult path. Rushing the Legend is impossible." Slaten knew that he was not a subtle man, but experience with the Hero had painfully taught him that he needed to be indirect. "Just as we need to prepare by meeting the sage, should we not prepare for this journey?"

"Nah." With that grunt, Melal simply dismissed his argument. Slaten was taken aback, but he had been afraid of such an answer, so he managed not to splutter and tried a different tack.

"Everyone has told us that the Sotunn Mountains are cold and treacherous, especially without a local guide. Look at how much Laeri struggles - the rocks will tear apart her shoes if they grow much worse. And beyond the difficulty of the path itself, we will be threatened by raiders and Deathsp-"

"Just what do you want?"

"Let us travel east first, to Het-Inai. It is the greatest city before the mountains, more than large enough for us to buy all the supplies we need and learn the best path to Mount Tmil."

"Huh. That's an Oken city, isn't it?"

"Yes, but that isn't the reason I suggest it. Everything we've learned about Mount Tmil suggests it is to the northeast, so we wouldn't be going out of our way. Once there, we could learn which approach is best an-"

"We need to go north." Melal finally looked over at him, though he continued marching forward. "You might not be able to feel it, Slaten, but I'm following a glorious destiny. It is no accident that the path of the Legend leads us straight north. There is no need to stray from it."

Slaten swallowed, trying to decide if there was any chance of breaking through to him. Sometimes Melal could be so pliable, but when that light kindled in his eyes...

"M-Melal?" Slaten recognized Laeri's quiet voice from behind and turned to see her struggling to catch up to them. "I'm so tired... can we stop for a break? Would that be okay?"

Given how hastily they had left town, Slaten wanted to get further away, but he waited too long to object. Melal gave Laeri a broad smile and flicked her hood off her head, laughing as she yelped and pulled it back into place. "Alright, Laeri, we can give you some time to rest. We make camp just beyond that hill."

Camping beyond the hill would at least obscure their position slightly, so Slaten decided not to argue. He ran a quick circle around the location and discovered no threats. When he returned, he found that Melal had started a fire and Veron was cooking some of their perishable food. It struck him as a security risk, but he wasn't willing to stand between Veron and hot food.

Slaten wasn't hungry, but he did take the opportunity to get off his feet. He sat down beside Tani by the fire, only then realizing that her attention was withdrawn. She'd removed a wooden case from her pack and now pored over the inscribed hide within. The case was rougher than the one he'd seen with other Rhen tribes, and the hide was nothing like the ornate texts that he'd seen there. Still, Tani treated them as if they were sacred documents.

Eventually her attention rose from the text to look at him. "I can see you want to ask. Go ahead."

"I didn't want to disturb you."

"It's fine. I've finished reviewing what I wanted." Tani ran her fingers lightly over the surface, her gaze falling into the arcing lines of Rhen script. "My master gave this to me as the next step in my training, but it seems much more obscure than her past lessons. The purpose is obviously deepening my understanding of sein, but it doesn't speak about anything as simple as tasting or touching it. Instead, the warrior who wrote this seemed to believe the art was best taught by explaining around it."

When they had passed by Tani's village on their way north, Slaten had briefly met Master Yanumi. Given her lack of respect for tradition, he was surprised that her disciple had turned out like Tani. "I assume that she knows best. Did she leave you an entire plan of study?"

"She said that I needed to begin making some of my own decisions, but yes, she made copies of several texts. These should take me to the end of my current path, there's just so much yet to master..." Tani put away the hides with obvious affection. Since she would likely train next, Slaten bade her farewell and left her to her exercises.

Truthfully, it was more than that. Seeing how comfortable she was in her tradition, cared for by her master, left him with a pain he could not name. He could still train himself, and there were elements of Oken arts that he had yet to master, but he had no guiding light.

It was more than a matter of identity, it was a simple question of practical training. Slaten walked away from the fire to isolate himself so he could think more clearly. Though he'd grown stronger, he remembered clearly the strength of Celivia and other powerful mansthein, much less the Zeitai who stood entirely beyond his reach. Simply continuing his normal exercises in pursuit of strength could not possibly be enough.

He climbed the nearby hill, both to watch the surrounding region and to contemplate his sein. Finding a fallen tree trunk, he sat upon it and placed his hands on his knees. Though he kept his eyes open, his focus was less on the forested hills than the sein flowing within him.

Instead of drawing on it for strength, Slaten let himself fall into the flow. He brought himself back to the battle that had so devastated Bundlin, with all of its chaos and bloodshed. Instead of remembering thoughts or emotions, he tried to fully dwell in the pounding of his heart, the screams, the raw violent power...

Slowly his awareness of sein permeated the entire memory. He tasted blood on his lips, felt blades cutting his skin, and faintly smelled fire. Yet he needed more. No matter how he looked, he saw only his memories of the battle, not any true awareness of sein. When he strained his ears to hear beyond the memory it was even worse, the sounds of the battle fading away into nothingness. Grasping his sein more deeply remained thoroughly beyond him.

Failure distracted him from his purpose and Slaten realized that his physical eyes had spotted something outside himself. He surfaced from the inner experience to investigate, then found himself jumping to his feet.

Figures moved through the trees behind them.

Putting all thoughts of training aside, Slaten desperately tried to examine them. The cloaks blended in with the trees, but he was certain it was the mansthein soldiers. Worse, at the head of the group moved the Catai, pushing through the trees like grass. They had stayed off the main road, which could only mean one thing: they were in pursuit.

After one more look, he sprinted back down the side of the hill to the campfire. He was taken aback for a moment when he saw that the food was gone except for a bowl Tani had saved for him - how long had he been meditating on his sein? Everyone turned to look at him, so he just gasped out the important facts.

"We've been tracked. There's a Catai."

"Fuck." Veron spat out what she was drinking into the fire and leapt to her feet, though she did keep her grip on the jug. "Leave the fire. Just take our supplies and move."

After so long running, everyone acted immediately. Slaten hadn't removed anything from his pack, so it was a simply matter to swing it onto his back and check to see if anyone needed help. To his surprise, even Laeri was putting away her things, only a little flustered. The sole problem was that Melal was nowhere to be seen, but he often wandered off on his own.

Veron didn't seem to give him even a moment of thought, she simply jerked her head for all of them to follow. They scrambled into the forest, going northeast instead of along their previous path. Slaten glanced over his shoulder, but there was no sign of pursuit yet. That wouldn't last, especially once the mansthein realized that their quarry had started to run.

Unfortunately, running in the forested hills wasn't as simple as it had been on the plains of the Expanse. Tani twisted her way past branches and over rocks with her superior agility, while Veron was simply so fast that she had plenty of time to react. But though Laeri had been working on her running to keep up with them, she often stumbled and caught her robe on branches. Slaten stayed nearby in case she fell.

It wasn't the first time they had been pursued, so they settled into the fastest rhythm they could maintain. They took a sharp turn west and Veron led them through a crevice that Slaten worried would tighten, but it only brought them out into another valley. He began to hope that they might slip their pursuers until he saw that there was no path ahead but to scale the side of a vast hill.

When they reached the top he looked back. He could just see the mansthein soldiers struggling in the woods... and the Catai leapt up onto the rock above the crevice, then began pounding after them.

"Shit." Veron paused only briefly, then gestured for all of them to head straight north. "We can still try to outpace him, but look for a good spot to fight."

They began sprinting north as best they could given the terrain. Slaten considered picking up Laeri, but she was barely managing to keep up. Besides, he needed to keep his arms free if the Catai caught up.

Part of him had hoped that the uneven ground would allow them to outpace the Catai's brute speed: as Tani had observed, Catai could propel themselves forward with great force, but most lacked agility. Unfortunately, the massive warrior's armored skin proved a surprising advantage in the chase. When he looked back, he saw the Catai simply letting branches shatter off his body.

Beyond that, their group had to move somewhat carefully to avoid turning their ankles or falling over a sudden cliff. The Catai had no fear of a short fall and his thick legs wouldn't be damaged easily. Slaten realized that a fight was inevitable and placed his hand on his sword.

Of course he did. That was the only solution he had to any problem.

Even with all his preparation, Slaten was warned only by the fact that Veron somehow disappeared into the woods. Based on what he knew of her...

The Catai exploded from the woods behind them, a pillar of mottled blue muscle bearing a long maul. Slaten had turned and just started to draw his sword, but knew that he wouldn't be fast enough.

At that moment Veron broke from a nearby bush, intercepting the Catai with a sword thrust at full speed. Her aim was perfect, but the Catai had a heartbeat to notice her attack and shifted his arm in the way. The blade pierced his muscular arm instead of his chest, leaving Veron vulnerable with her weapon trapped in the Catai's arm.

He knew this was his best chance and moved, though the two warriors continued fighting while he was stepping forward. Veron ducked under an awkward swipe from the maul and tried to pull her sword out, earning only a pained grunt. The Catai jerked the arm away from her, forming a fist...

Slaten struck, his sword slicing down into the arm with all his body and sein behind it. The edge drew a line of blood across the Catai's skin and no more.

The Catai didn't even turn to fight him, instead slamming his shoulder into Veron and sending her hurtling away. Her body struck a tree and went over the edge of a hill, but there was no time to look for her.

Now Slaten was the only one standing in the Catai's range.

Though he used the larger warrior's distraction to attempt a thrust, it was too hasty and glanced off the side of the Catai's chest. For all the strength he had gained, that iron skin was still an obstacle to him. Nothing less than a perfectly placed blow would strike true.

With a roar the Catai swept his maul around, the heavy end narrowly missing Slaten as he backed up. A knife struck the side of the Catai's head, but it deflected off the ridge of bone around his ear. Tani was helping, but unless she aimed perfectly, all she could do was keep the Catai on his guard.

Even that might not be enough, given how aggressively the Catai advanced. If the mansthein's other arm hadn't been injured, Slaten would already have been overwhelmed, because he could barely keep up with the maul being swung one-handed. Its only weakness was that it had such a large swinging arc in a wooded environment, so he backed up between two trees and readied his blade for a thrust.

He realized with shock that the Catai was simply swinging at his side with full strength.

Slaten dropped almost to the ground and felt more than heard the maul tear directly through the tree trunks above him. If he hadn't ducked, it would have landed on his side. Pushing himself past the surprise, he lunged forward in a thrust. The tip of his sword pierced the Catai's stomach...

The back end of the maul thrust back at him, hammering into his chest.

His back and then chest struck trees painfully, then Slaten found himself lying in the dirt a short way down the hill. Somehow he had kept a grip on his sword, but his body trembled when he tried to rise. Though the Catai could have finished him off, instead the massive warrior turned toward Tani, his arm raised to guard his eyes as he shrugged off her thrown knives.

Realizing that the Catai thought the blow had killed him, Slaten carefully rose and tried to plan his attack. His chest ached, but there was no sharp pain as if ribs had broken. At least all his defensive arts had brought him to the point where he could endure a Catai's blow to the chest.

Tani was mobile enough to avoid the Catai, but Laeri wasn't far away, hiding behind a tree. If the Catai grew frustrated enough, he would pursue her instead of Tani and then the threat would become immediate. But when should he attack? Slaten's hands were sweaty on the hilt of his sword and he tried to wipe them off one at a time as he circled.

In the end, he hesitated too long. Veron emerged from behind the Catai and kicked up between his legs. With the full force of her sein behind it, the blow ended in a grisly crunching sound. The Catai let out a roar of pain and rage, but only staggered a step, his maul rising to retaliate...

Tani's next knife went directly into his eye. That produced an even louder roar and the Catai began to swing around himself wildly, just forcing them back as he recovered.

Determined not to stand by uselessly again, Slaten crept closer and prepared to strike. Tani had her sickle knife out and three throwing knives ready in her other hand. Veron remained unarmed, but she looked past the Catai to make eye contact. They had the injured Catai trapped within a triangle: he was still formidable, but with the correct strategy they could exploit his new blind spot.

"Die, Deathspawn!" Melal abruptly charged in from the forest, his blade singing as it left its sheath.

Warned by his cry, the Catai immediately whirled, his maul arcing in an overhand swing that should have been fatal. Yet propelled by the light of the Hero, Melal bashed it aside and then thrust his blade directly through the Catai's chest.

Many believed that strikes to the heart were immediately fatal, but Slaten knew that warriors could hang on to life for some time, and he had once seen a Catai continue fighting with a sword through his chest. This one didn't. The Hero's blade contained no ambiguity.

"Another one of these huge bastards down." Melal pushed over the corpse and pulled his sword free, the blade untouched by blood. He sheathed it and grinned down at the body. "A nice victory to start our trip into the Sotunn Mountains, eh?"

Ignoring him, Tani instead looked to Veron. The older woman nodded, retrieved her sword, and headed down the hill. Slaten belatedly realized that she was going to eliminate the lesser soldiers so there would be no one to leave word of the attack. Given how long it might take the mansthein to send another group, that would give them time to escape into the mountains.

He should have thought of that, but his mind wasn't fully on the combat. Slaten wearily cleaned his blade, discouraged by how little blood he'd drawn. As far as he had advanced, it wasn't far enough if he hoped to keep up with the Hero.

If keeping up was his goal.

While they picked up dropped supplies and gathered themselves, Slaten churned the fight over in his mind. He barely even noticed that Laeri spent a long time tending to Melal before coming to help him, though he was glad when her healing sein eased the pain in his chest. By the time they started to trek north again, Slaten felt he had begun to digest his frustration.

Catai were no longer an impossible obstacle, yet in each battle with one he was still a heartbeat away from death. His body might be able to withstand an indirect blow, but if that maul connected with his head with full force behind it... he might survive, but death would be more merciful.

Still, he found himself reflecting on the fact that many Catai used warhammers, mauls, and other blunt weapons. The mansthein were capable of equipping all their soldiers with swords, and Catai were no more brutish than the average warrior, so there must be a reason for it. Their strength made it easier to wield large weapons, but an over-sized sword might serve them better. There must be a reason.

Still turning over the issue in his mind, Slaten moved to walk beside Veron. "Do you think there's a reason that most Catai use blunt weapons?"

"Why the fuck are you asking me?" Veron scowled at him, but he could see that he'd forced her to think about it. For a few heartbeats, before she shrugged. "Hell if I know. Tradition, maybe? I doubt there's any real reason that so many of them go around shirtless."

"I thought that was to intimidate. Proof that they don't need armor."

"Maybe there's a logical reason. Maybe they just like staring at their big manly muscles."

"I'm not just asking out of curiosity." He absentmindedly put his hand on the hilt of his newest sword. "I was wondering if a sword isn't a good weapon to use against them. Their skin resists cuts better than thrusts, but as we saw this fight, that isn't enough to disable them. I thought perhaps a different tactic..."

"Kid, I'm sure you want to believe there's a trick to getting stronger, but in my experience it just doesn't matter." Veron stopped scowling and instead regarded him seriously. "Catai have such powerful sein that they could kill you with a wooden plank or a random rock. And if you're fast enough, it doesn't really matter what you're using to kill someone. Pick whatever weapon feels right in your hand and just focus on your sein."

He nodded and fell back, since arguing further was pointless. Though he accepted that Veron was much more experienced than him, Slaten wasn't willing to accept her conclusion immediately. Everyone's experience had gaps, and Veron seemed more unbalanced than many warriors. There was something he could learn, he just wasn't sure what it was.

Though they remained vigilant for other mansthein, they traveled for several days without any other incidents. They made poor time, with frequent arguments about whether or not it would be wiser to take one of the roads. Slaten mostly stayed outside the circle, both because he doubted they could convince Melal with words and because he wanted to contemplate his sein.

As they passed higher into the foothills, the air itself grew colder. Most inhabitants of the Chorhan Expanse would have been shocked, but Slaten remembered the searing ice created by the Zeitai and felt certain that this was only the beginning.

Gradually their attempt to make their own path grew truly difficult. They found themselves facing steeper inclines and occasionally regions of craggy cliff faces. Melal and Tani could leap to the top, while Slaten could generally scale them with enough momentum. Many proved impossible for Laeri, so Veron would simply pick the young woman up despite her protestations and carry her.

One day Laeri was trudging along when one of the straps on her pack abruptly broke. She let out a yelp and the uneven weight sent her staggering to the side. The others turned to act, but it was too late: she dropped the pack and it skidded down a rocky incline, vanishing into a narrow crevice.

"I-I'm sorry!" She cringed even before Melal yelled at her, while Tani began examining the crevice. When Slaten walked up beside her, she was kneeling down and peering within.

"I think I can see it at the bottom," she said, "it's just a question of how best to reach it."

"Leave it!" Melal turned away from Laeri to focus on them. "Getting it back will take too long. We need to go north to reach Mount Tmil!"

"We need to eat," Tani said in a gentle voice. "And think about how bad Laeri will feel if she loses the supplies she was carrying."

Melal argued back, but Slaten was too tired to get involved. Instead he began lowering himself down into the crevice. It didn't seem as though it became too narrow at any point, but some of the rocks did look rather sharp. That made him a better candidate than Tani, so he would just act before Melal realized.

Still, it took him some time to lower himself through the shadowy crevice. Many of the rocks were sharp fragments, but after a brief test, Slaten grasped them without hesitation. The fact that his skin was untouched by the edges might have impressed some, but to him it was just a pale imitation of the Catai's apparent invincibility. Not nearly enough.

By the time he'd reached the bottom, he'd worked himself into a foul mood, but at least the pack was mostly undamaged. Since they were frequently thrown aside in fights, they'd purchased packs that didn't easily spill their contents. Slaten pulled it over one shoulder and began making the long climb back up.

When he crawled back to the surface there was no one to help him over the edge, but he saw that Tani and Veron had focused on convincing Melal. It sounded as though they'd had some success, too. Slaten listened with one ear while tying the broken strap into usable condition and returning it to Laeri. Eventually they were ready and Melal was convinced.

"Very well, we take the main road if it will get us into the Sotunn Mountains faster. But all of you need to stop whining, because the journey up the side of Mount Tmil will be far more dangerous!"

That might be, but Slaten was just relieved to take a more ordinary route. It required most of a day to get back to the road, since Melal insisted on taking a northerly path, but eventually they reached it. The stone road wound around hills, but it was a far easier path than forcing their way through.

On the road they made good progress, the mountains drawing ever closer. They no longer stood frozen on the horizon as they had at the beginning of the journey, leaving Slaten to wonder whether they would suddenly enter the mountains or whether the change would be imperceptible, the way the Expanse bled into other environments at its edges.

Even though they didn't lose any more packs and the road was easier on their shoes, Slaten worried that the environment would take a serious toll. The Hero might deny all logic, but Slaten suspected that he could die of cold or starvation like any other man. It was too late to make further preparations, however, so he could only hope that the Legend carried them through.

Ahead, he saw Tani round a hill and immediately freeze. He hurried to follow, prepared for an ambush, but it soon became obvious that there was no such threat. Veron moved to stand beside Tani and just folded her arms with a flat gaze, and when Slaten caught up, he understood why.

Stakes lined the path ahead of them, many topped by heads. Some were bleached skulls while others still crawled with maggots. For a moment Slaten thought the stakes were covered in blood, but he realized that it was actually red paint.

"Looks like these are your raiders, Tani." Veron walked up and rapped one of the skulls with her knuckles. "They seem friendly, putting out a greeting like this."

"This is an excellent sign!" Melal strode forward, examining the skull carefully. "Look at the sides... this is a Deathspawn skull! The raiders are fighting their own battle against the enemy. Perhaps they simply lack direction..."

Slaten hadn't thought that a line of staked skulls could become more ominous, but this was far from the first time he'd been wrong. Yet there was nothing he could do but follow as they headed past the skulls into the Sotunn Mountains.

Chapter 3

-

"Text: Though many and more travelers have spoken of the Chorhan Expanse I found that my travels took me instead to the eastern extremities into oft-forgotten lands. The mage warriors of Estronn are renowned for their ranged strikes as well as healers and there are also the notable warriors of the lands east of the Nollan Ridge beneath Estronese lands who are known for their ability to resist the martial arts of the south.

Gloss: Curiously, the chapter on lands in eastern Breilin is almost entirely without falsehoods. Aside from a few exaggerations and referring to occupied lands as 'oft-forgotten' there is little to note in the following pages."

- excerpt from The Annotated Travels of Telekrainas the Great

-

Celivia picked up the piece of nearly raw meat and sank her teeth into it, easily tearing away a large piece. Flecks of blood spattered away from her, staining the ground. She gnashed it with her teeth a few times and then swallowed it almost whole...

No. No, that wasn't right.

She lowered the piece of meat, then picked it up again. This time she bit more savagely, even though her teeth could easily cut through even tough meat. It made a satisfying sound as she tore the meat away, but some of the blood flew back to strike her clothes.

That wasn't right either. Celivia sighed and washed her hands before trying to wipe the blood off her shirt.

Before the day was done, she would meet the band of soldiers she was meant to be commanding. Eight men who would allegedly take orders from her. Despite having advanced to warrior second class, this was her first experience leading soldiers. There had been leadership exercises at the Spathor training ground, but those didn't leave her feeling remotely prepared.

What did it matter whether or not she impressed them with how she ate her meat? Celivia did her best to set aside such abstract matters and focus on her practical preparations. It was too late to make any significant changes, but at least she could reassure herself that she wasn't going in unprepared.

She'd used her back pay to purchase a large and durable pack, but her possessions couldn't fill it. Mostly it was occupied by her bedroll, a spare combat tunic thick enough for the mountains, and a single silk robe in case she was invited to an event with leadership. A wrapped package held basic medicine, childbane, and a pearl hair comb. The last was impractical and she wouldn't have taken it along, but Reina had given it to her as a gift at their parting.

Most of her pay had gone toward the armored belt around her stomach and hips. Purchasing one that was durable, presentable, and comfortable had been expensive, but she didn't have many uses for her pay. The belt had special notches for her duusha horn knives and of course her whip, each of the bladed segments oiled to perfection.

None of that would last, if conditions in the Sotunn Mountains were as difficult as reported. But at least she was going in prepared.

Though leadership could be disconnected from the reality on the ground, the lessons they had taught her and the other band leaders had been immensely useful. The conflict in the north of Breilin was complex, but she was being assigned to a simpler task: combating the human raiders in the Sotunn mountain range. If she and her band completed her assignment south of the range, they would be allowed to go north to engage with more dangerous raider tribes.

She'd memorized the names of all the known major raiding groups. They had rather blunt names like Earthbreakers, Bloodskins, or Stormpeaks. Though she supposed that she had no room to criticize, given how many in the mansthein military embraced the "Deathspawn" title.

The door started to open and Celivia instantly closed her pack and snapped to her feet. She recognized the man who entered as a lieutenant at the base, though it look her longer to remember his name was Tamanin. He was Feinan but substantially shorter than her, suggesting that he hadn't been through the normal training regimen.

"There's no need for that, Nin." He chuckled at her stiff posture and waved vaguely with one hand. "We're nowhere near Ith Silvaros all the way out here, so you'll find things aren't so formal. This isn't even the roughest area when it comes to raiders."

"Will you be giving me more information about my assignment, then?"

"And escorting you to your band, but yes. The Captain said he was too busy for this and told me to show you around."

Celivia suspected that he had said something worse than that, but accepted it in stride. She followed Tamanin out the door and into the cramped corridor. The little outpost was made of solid stone, but it wasn't Aryabaus's tower, much less the palaces back on Orphos. As they walked, the lieutenant turned back to look at her.

"I'm company leader Tamanin, by the way. Except-"

"Company leader?"

"Eh? Oh, right, you're from Orphos." Tamanin gave an odd shrug. "Officially I'm a lieutenant, but that's more of an Orphosan word. Out here we just call them company leaders."

"I understand. Sorry for interrupting you."

"Not a problem. I was just saying that my company isn't much of a company at all. I don't even have a full nine bands, though with you coming along I'm back up to eight. The main thing is, most of you band leaders are on your own without reporting much to me. That's a bit odd, but then again, this is Breilin."

Celivia nodded politely. "The Captain said we would be trying to eliminate a raider tribe?"

"Eh, that's real optimistic. As I see it, your first assignment will be to range through part of the mountains, making sure no raider tribes sneak past and launch an attack here. The closest tribe is the Redbranches, and they're nothing much, but we see Bonewalkers sometimes. For all the bloody signs they put up, they're not so good about sticking to their territory."

"I'll do the best I can, then."

"That's how it usually works." Lieutenant Tamanin - company leader Tamanin - squinted up at her. "Honestly, you're overqualified when it comes to combat strength, but I don't like sending out green commanders. I hope you make it through."

She wasn't entirely sure what to say to that, so she just inclined her head respectfully. They passed through the outer guard house, taking them into the training yard. Her band was nowhere to be seen, but here Tamanin stopped.

"Your boys are outside the gate, getting ready to go. They taught you the region in your training, so all you need now is to scout the area like I said. Keep your soldiers alive for a hundred days and maybe we can move you to a more critical duty."

"Is th-" Celivia bit off asking if he was joking and tried to phrase her objection in a way he might hear. There was no sense in antagonizing her direct superior. "I expected to be given a clearer view of our objectives. You're going to send us out without more information?"

"What's there to give? All I know is that we've been told to keep this random little fort and fight human raiders in the area. Protect any merchants you can, whoever they are. The Zeitai up north requests reports for some reason, but you can bet he doesn't care about individual companies, much less bands. Some bands get called up there, so if you're overambitious, you can hope for that. Me, I want to last the whole war right here."

The Zeitai. Celivia had known that she was ultimately under the command of one of them, a fearsome master who waged war in the north of Breilin, but information was scarce. She did her best to keep her expression casual. "I know the Zeitai doesn't exactly stroll through the fort, but do you know anything about him?"

"Heh, we had a drink just the other day." The mild humor seemed to win over Tamanin, who lingered in the courtyard instead of departing. "No, we're so far from the Zeitai's throne that we might as well not exist. I can tell you that he's named Zeitai Kreue and that he's a Greav, but that's all I know."

"Kreue." Celivia turned the unfamiliar name over in her mouth, trying to determine its provenance. It wasn't a traditional Feinan, Seinan, or Laenan name, but there were more mansthein in the world than just Orphos. Though it would be risky, she hoped that she would make her way closer to the Zeitai in time. That might do more to influence the war than any ordinary promotion.

"Anyway, your boys are mostly green, but they've been together for a bit. Their band leader got himself killed during local training, so they haven't seen action yet. I'll let you make the introductions, since you seem to know how to handle yourself."

Turning on his heel, Tamanin turned away and went back into the small fort. Celivia wanted to call after him, though obviously showing any weakness was entirely out of the question. She'd assumed that she would be briefed in much greater detail and that the lieutenant would properly introduce her. That additional legitimacy would have been extremely useful, but now she was left on her own.

She'd face worse than that, though. Squaring her shoulders, Celivia headed out the fortress gate to locate her new band. It didn't take her long to find them in a clearing not far away and she had a moment to examine them before they noticed her.

Eight Feinan men, most with brown Fkaz mottling but some with a blue-brown mixture that was unfamiliar to her. All looked younger than her except one in battered gear who she estimated was at least forty. Their equipment was standard issue except for the veteran and a few personal items.

It was difficult to truly estimate their strength, but she couldn't help it. Most seemed to be untrained in sein or had the barest beginnings of comprehension. Judging from how they wore their swords and axes, they didn't have much experience in real combat.

If need be, she could probably kill all of them at once.

They would have some idea of her strength, however, and wouldn't attack head on unless they were truly foolish. She would have to assume that she was attacked at night and her weapons would be taken, though she could limit that threat by keeping her whip wrapped around an arm. Any real potential threat would come from their ability to coordinate effectively, which would be exactly what she would be giving them...

"Ho!" One of the men sat up straight with a grunt of surprise. All the others immediately turned to look at her, so Celivia made her face a neutral mask. "They said our new band leader would be a female, so... that's gotta be you, right?"

"I'm Celivia." Since they hadn't used titles, she didn't either. "And yes, I'll be leading us while we scout."

One of the men, a slightly pudgy man with a broad smile, stood up and bowed to her. "Pleased to meet you, Naena."

Celivia froze, for a moment desperately thinking. He was being polite and seemed friendly, but he'd addressed her as a woman instead of a military superior. Correcting him would immediately cast her in the wrong light, but she needed to be respected as a leader... "That's Kaen Celivia... Nin."

Several of the men laughed at him, though she saw one scarred man spit contemptuously. The pudgy man himself just nodded with a bit of a blush. "Sorry about that, Kaen. We're not exactly as polished as Ith Silvaros. We're just soldiers from Fein Karnak."

"I was born in Fein Karnak too." Better not to let them think too much about that, so she hurried onward. The apology seemed sincere and the group wasn't as overtly hostile as it could have been, which meant a friendly approach might serve her better. "I've spent the past three years in the Chorhan Expanse, however. They just moved me up north to deal with the human raiders."

"Damn, and we were hoping you'd bring delicacies from Orphos." The words were spoken by a thin man with unusually jagged mottling. His flippant words produced an uncomfortable pause and the others' eyes turned to see how she would respond. Celivia decided to give him a slight smile.

"All I have is that garbage the Corans call bread. You can have it if you want it."

That actually got a couple of laughs and the thin soldier grinned. The way he settled back and nodded to her, she had a feeling that she wouldn't have a problem with him, though it was always possible that he was being deceptive. Still, when she went to lean against a tree in their circle, they made room for her.

Instead of giving them orders immediately, she let the group talk for a while, gathering information. They usually called her Kaen or spoke politely, so in turn she didn't emphasize the Nin title. If she could save that for giving orders, her command might progress more smoothly.

She caught and memorized the names of all eight, though if they hadn't been in her command she would have found them unremarkable. Two even had exactly the same common name, leading to them being called Big Ragh and Little Ragh. The one who had greeted her was named Krafan and he seemed the most friendly of the lot. A few acted suspiciously toward her but only the scarred soldier showed overt hatred. Everyone called him Splinters and she resolved to keep an eye on him.

They might not ever accept her as one of them, but they did accept her presence after a time. Once they seemed comfortable and there was a lull in the conversation, Celivia stepped away from her tree and raised a hand.

"Alright, Nin, I think it's time to get to work before Company Leader Tamanin comes to see what's gone wrong. He's assigned us to range across a set of hills and warn Fort Corfaal if any raiders attempt an attack. It's supposed to be a quiet position, but we'll need to say alert."

"Yes, Kaen!" A few responded together, while others awkwardly tried to chime in too late and a few said nothing. It would do for a start.

They began hiking into the hills and Celivia stayed in back, knowing that otherwise all eyes would be on her. The soldiers had their packs on correctly and kept a mostly straight line, which was what passed for discipline here. Celivia waited until they reached a more even path and then passed the group to reach the head.

Her thick robes were stiff enough that they didn't conform to her body well, but she could still feel their eyes on her. There was essentially nothing she could do about that, not without setting herself as their enemy. Even if she could kill them, that would end her command and ruin her chances of ever attaining the position she needed to make a difference.

Placing that out of mind, Celivia instead moved to march beside the veteran and gestured for him to come with her ahead of the main line. "Are you my second?"

"I was going to be second, with the old leader." He stared right back at her, carefully gauging. "Seems to me that's up to you now."

"How long have you served here?"

"Two years at the fort, but seven years in the Expanse before that. I was a guard on Orphos before then."

"Then you're my second." His experience would prove invaluable, if they could work together. Celivia gave him a slight smile that wasn't false. She knew that it was a bias, but she tended to favor older soldiers over young men straight from Orphos. "What's your name?"

"I'm Ghasfik, Kaen."

"Well, Ghasfik, I wanted to talk to you about what you've seen in your time here. I wasn't briefed as well as I would have liked."

"That's always the way." Instead of answering directly, he glanced back at her. No smile, but he only seemed cautious to her. "You said you fought in the Expanse? Do you speak Coran?"

"I'm fluent."

"Good. Most of these boys speak nothing but Futhik, and village Futhik at that. In this job we'll have to deal with humans sometimes, and almost all speak Coran or Reili."

Celivia knew that Reili was the language spoken across the three nations north of the Sotunn Mountains but had never heard even a word of it spoken. Her mind focused on the more important aspect. "Are we dealing with local humans, or with raiders?"

"Some of both." Ghasfik seemed to chew his tongue a while before continuing. "The thing about the raiders is that they're just out for the spoils. If there's a caravan, they don't care if it's mansthein or human. Caravan guard duty... that's a bad assignment and I always prayed we got an escort with more trained warriors. But a band of soldiers isn't carrying much they want, so they might ignore us. Or they might try to extract a price, and between you and me, that can be worth paying."

"They're formidable, then?" This was the sort of knowledge she had hoped to learn. In a perfectly logical military Ghasfik might have been band leader, but the hierarchy wasn't always logical and some counted personal strength over experience.

"I don't know how to judge sein, so it's hard to be sure. The smallest clans stay away from forts or towns. The strongest raiders are a threat to everybody. I know that on the caravan we had some young warriors who thought they were real hotshots... some of them died as quick as the untrained, and some of those who made it went into seinshock and never came back."

They discussed all the local raider tribes in detail, Celivia carefully committing the facts to memory. Here, at least, her briefing had given her accurate information about their numbers, though Ghasfik's perspective was still useful. It seemed the Stormpeaks had a nasty reputation on the ground, even other raiders fearing them. The reports hadn't said anything about the Bloodskins targeting mansthein more than other raiders, and they hadn't even mentioned a group called the Hardbloods.

Ghasfik wasn't willing to discuss the overall situation, either because he didn't care about military politics or because he was cautious. He did let her know about the informal roles in the band so far: Fijn was supply master and Brifik oversaw equipment maintenance.

Technically, it was a competently composed band. Celivia would have preferred more trained warriors, a sein healer, and a tracker, but she realized that her standards were absurdly unrealistic. Simple bands of nine didn't get such luxuries.

Though Celivia didn't think of Laeri often, certainly not compared to Tani and Slaten, she found herself missing the shy Estronese healer. There had been no public reports of the group, so she could only hope that Laeri was well. If Melal was still the Hero, she had a feeling that the wake of his heroism would be fatal for the weak.

Those thoughts dredged up old pain. Celivia pushed it back down and focused on the present.

Once they'd made good headway, she had Ghasfik and Fijn collaborate to determine how long their supplies would last and how well they could forage off the land. If she understood how loosely the local military operated, it was a near certainty that supplies would be interrupted or misplaced. Quite aside from any raider threat, if her band didn't have enough food, that could set alight tensions.

As they climbed a particularly steep hill, Celivia readjusted her pack to a slightly more comfortable position. To her surprise, a voice suddenly boomed from not far behind her.

"You want some help with that, Kaen?" Big Ragh stood nearby, extending a hand toward her pack. He was smiling, but she saw the scorn there.

With sein flowing through her, Celivia could have broken his over-muscled body easily. Part of her wanted to, but it was too early for such confrontations. So she only snapped, "Worry about your own pack, Nin" and continued marching.

Judging from the way Big Ragh grinned and some of the others muttered, it had been the wrong choice. Celivia kept her face neutral and inwardly fumed as they moved forward. Of course, no matter what she did, it would be wrong in some way.

She reminded herself that this band wasn't filled with subtle politics like a Seinan unit. Perhaps she could have established her authority by immediately beating up the largest of them. Still, vacillating or lashing out in a petty manner would be even worse, so she lived with the mistake.

Sooner than expected, the sun started to dip low, caught by the rising peaks around them. She raised a hand to call a halt and Ghasfik immediately barked out "Halt!" Fortunately, they had all obeyed by the time she turned back to face them.

"The region we need to range is too large to cover in one day," she explained to the band. "That will get uncomfortable unless we establish semi-permanent camps at various places. We should use the rest of today to prepare a place for when we need to camp outside the fort."

Splinters scowled at her from the back, but the others didn't object. It was what they were going to do anyway, after all, and those were the easiest sort of orders. As they set to work, a soldier named Huthur walked up with a rope over his shoulder.

"Kaen, I was thinking we should get an outpost up high to keep anyone from sneaking up on us. If you give me enough time, I should be able to put some handholds in one of these big trees and build a little outpost at the top."

"If you can build, then your skills are better suited making us a windbreak. We'll need shelter when the seasons change." Celivia considered putting a hand on his shoulder and stopped herself, second-guessing if that would send the wrong message. "I'll take care of scouting."

Huthur looked a bit surprised, but nodded. That was what she had hoped, which meant that it might be the right time for a simple demonstration. Celivia bent her legs, let her sein flow through her, and then leapt directly up. She harmlessly snapped through a few branches before snagging a larger one high above the others and flipping to crouch on it.

From near the top of one of the taller trees, it was easy to see the land around their camp. More importantly, she heard some whistling and hooting that sounded earnest. Hopefully this was the right way to remind her band that she was a sein-trained warrior.

Celivia found a comfortable position against the trunk of the tree and stared out into the mountains. Her first day of command had gone well enough, but this was no true test. Discipline would weaken, conditions would worsen, and eventually they'd face a real crisis. The crags around them were all potentially filled with enemies.

Not so different from the camp below.

Chapter 4

-

"Text: The Chorhan Expanse is a strange and terrible place filled with endless waves of grass swept by dust storms that can strip one's flesh in mere moments. Deep in the center of it travelers say that the sky turns purple and drives one mad. It is inhabited by many creatures, most notable of which is the duusha, which is born with two horns and throughout its life grows more up to nearly a hundred horns in the eldest beasts, heavier than the creature itself.

Gloss: Other than potentially exaggerating the horns of the duusha, your humble annotator cannot begin to guess where Telekrainas got any of these ideas."

- excerpt from The Annotated Travels of Telekrainas the Great

-

Tani had never been so unhappy to have been right. As the air grew steadily colder, Laeri and the others commended her for anticipating it and buying several thick cloaks, but that was just a reminder that she wished that she'd bought ten times as many. The fabric that had felt claustrophobically warm was now barely adequate to keep her from freezing at night.

The wind pierced straight through it when she ran, and that hurt almost more than the cold itself. She had always enjoyed running ahead to scout, but now sprinting into the wind left her chilled to the bone. In theory she knew of arts that could keep one warm, but they were not particularly Nelee and she had no one to teach her them. None of the lessons contained within her master's case even hinted at resolving the problem.

Could her master have made an oversight? As much as Tani respected Master Yanumi, she knew that the older woman was human. Perhaps masters could ignore the cold somehow... Tani noticed that only Veron seemed unaffected by the chilling winds. The rest of them had to suffer through it with varying degrees of complaining.

As she returned to the group and traded off with Slaten, Tani approached the older woman instead of taking her usual place. Veron simply ambled forward as if the steep slope didn't bother her, toying with the stopper in her jug of alcohol.

"Veron, do you have a trick for staying warm?"

"Nice try." Veron pulled her jug closer and shielded it with her other arm. "If you wanted a drink, you should have prepared for the journey properly."

"It must be a sein art of some kind, surely. I haven't felt anything like sein flow from you, but perhaps it's just beyond my current senses..."

"There's really no trick to it. When I was younger I spent a bit of time in the Nollan Ridge and I was as cold as you. But after years of training, the cold stopped bothering me. Nothing I can teach."

Tani frowned, unsure if she was being mocked. It was true that some proficient warriors seemed impervious to nature - her master could pass over mud effortlessly. Veron wasn't exactly a polished master, however, so it was harder to believe. Deciding there was no reason to be polite, Tani simply reached out and grasped the other woman's upper arm.

"Hey! I don't think that's appropriate, do you?"

"You're burning." Tani pulled her hand back, though not because of Veron's half-hearted mockery. The other woman's arm felt as hot as a stone heated over the fire. She would have assumed, yet... "You're being honest with me when you say that this isn't a sein art?"

"Why would I lie? You'd obviously just keep asking me questions." Veron gave her a flat look. "Are you really so surprised? Catai are impervious to blades, sein or no sein... did you think physical changes were unique to them?"

"No, but I thought it might be unique to mansthein." Tani chewed on her lip as she considered the matter. Once she had been given an opportunity to read a large number of sacred texts, including those currently beyond her. Some of them had spoken of rebuilding the body, but she hadn't imagined that it could potentially occur so literally.

"You're really going to just feel me up like that? How callous!"

Despite herself, Tani smiled over at Veron. "I suppose it's true that we haven't really spoken much, beyond all our day to day plans."

"And when you want sein knowledge from me, of course." Veron turned away from her and sniffed as if offended.

"Is that what you want? Do you need a shoulder to cry on about Graenin leaving you?"

"Hah. If anything, he'd need to take refuge in the arms of a younger w-" In an instant Veron went from speaking wryly to drawing her sword, eyes focused outward. Tani couldn't react as quickly but automatically drew her sickle knife and reached for her throwing knives. As she moved it occurred to her that Veron might be doing it to disrupt her, but better to be mocked than unprepared.

It was no jest. Figures moved in the hills all around them.

"This is a bad day for you." The voice spoke Coran with a thick accent Tani didn't recognize. She spun slowly, Veron at her back, trying to identify all the figures. There were at least six of them and most had spears at their shoulders, ready to throw. "You walk in weakling Whitebone territory, but you have met a patrol of mighty Bloodskins."

Finally Tani identified the speaker, a massively built man standing with his arms folded. Though not as large as a Catai, he was more muscular than any other man she had ever seen. What was strangest is that he didn't seem to be wearing proper clothes, there were simply cloths draped around his chest in a shocking combination of colors and patterns.

"Two men, three women... you are brave to cross the mountains alone." The man eyed them coldly, then gave a hollow laugh. "To salute your bravery, we will be kind. Leave your packs and your weapons and we will let you return alive."

The ambushers had managed to avoid her scouting and surround the group, so their coordination was good. All the raiders she saw had well-built bodies and carried a strong scent of mint. It was impossible to judge their strength accurately, but Tani was inclined to be cautious. Surrendering was completely unacceptable... yet what was the best path through the ambush?

"Get out of our path or be destroyed!" Melal drew his sword in a shimmering arc and pointed it at the leader of the raiders. "Do you have any idea who I am? I'm-"

One of the raiders hurled his spear, faster than Tani could react to intercept. With his eyes shining, Melal simply struck it out of the air with unnatural speed. Everyone paused in a moment of surprise, and for at first Tani thought that Melal might simply draw the ambush into the Legend, then the raiders let out battle cries and attacked.

She didn't see the spear flying toward her, but Tani felt the weight of it in her sein as if she held a heavy stone. Trusting her sein instincts, she ducked aside before the spear clattered off the rocks just beside her. It seemed as though none of the other spears had found their mark either, Veron evading two and Slaten using his broader sword to deflect the point of another.

Somehow there was a snarling raider in front of her, lashing out with an axe. Tani hadn't seen him move and could only scramble back desperately, separating her from the others. Fortunately there weren't many raiders, but the one in front of her would be challenge enough, attacking with savage ferocity.

Tani deflected his first chopping swing to the side, but when she tried to hook his wrist with her sickle knife, he easily jerked it away. With surprising speed for such a large man, he pulled his axe back and struck again. Though Tani tried to deflect it, he had so much strength behind the blow that he nearly pushed through her guard. Only a quick dodge saved her neck.

Even though she jumped back, she didn't purchase even a moment of safety as the raider came after her, attacking with a dangerous combination of strength and speed. It seemed he had no regard for his own safety, yet the best Tani could do was defend herself, unable to take advantage of any of his openings as he continued rushing her.

A bad block left her hands stinging and mint burning in her nostrils. Despite the raiders' rough appearance, their sein was strong, perhaps stronger than hers. She kept her mind firm and prevented herself from panicking, yet she couldn't manage to break out of her weakening pattern of defense.

The raider let out a wet gasp and a sword appeared through his stomach. Behind him, Veron shot Tani a glance.

"Honestly, girl, do I have t-"

Ignoring the sword through his stomach, the raider threw his head back against Veron, smashing his skull into her nose. Veron staggered back, losing her grip on her sword, and he rounded on her.

Tani acted first, sinking a throwing knife deep into the thick of his neck. The raider grunted and turned on her, but the injuries had slowed his movements. She hooked her sickle knife into his stomach beside Veron's sword and pulled.

Though the raider managed to stay on his feet, grabbing at his guts as if to keep them in, he couldn't survive Veron pulling out her sword and putting it through his neck. Even as he fell, his face still displayed nothing but the raw rage of combat.

"Tough bastards." Veron didn't offer any jest this time, just getting her sword ready for more.

Melal was exchanging brutal blows with the leader of the raiders, covered in blood, but Tani assumed he would pull through as the Hero always did. She was more concerned about the other two: Laeri was being stalked by a laughing raider and Slaten was faltering against another.

Though the raider bled from several small cuts and Slaten looked untouched, the raider was unquestionably in control of the fight. Slaten staggered backward, barely keeping up his guard, while the raider kept trying to move him onto rough ground where he might stumble. Though Slaten prevented his attempts with good footwork, it couldn't last.

Since Veron swept in to help Laeri, Tani decided to help Slaten. She drew three throwing knives in her good hand... and saw something to the side. Instead of throwing, Tani dove for the ground, narrowly evading a sword coming for her head. The raiders still had the advantage in numbers and she'd lost track of them.

Though Tani rolled to her feet quickly, the raider was after her just as fast, his shoulder slamming into her chest. Her feet left the ground and she found herself staggering into the other fight. She collided with the raider Slaten was fighting, too stunned to strike him, and fell onto her back.

In that instant she saw the entire scene as if drawn in a sacred text: one raider surprised by her, Slaten in a ready stance, and the raider who had attacked her rushing at his side.

Her instincts told her to get her feet under her and flee. Instead she attacked.

Throwing her knives from the ground required an awkward twist, but Tani put every drop of sein she could manage into the knives as she rapidly threw one after another. One hit the nearest raider in the side and the other two flew at the one rushing for Slaten. She was surprised that he just grunted when the first knife dug into his chest, but the second blade nearer his stomach made him stagger.

That left her in a weak position on her back, with only her sickle knife ready. Fortunately, Slaten used the opening she had created to strike.

His swing hacked deep into the side of the first raider, breaking ribs and pushing him into the second. Though the second raider simply shoved aside his comrade, being forced to do so brought him to a complete halt.

"Enough!" The shout rang between the mountains, halting all combat. Tani looked despite herself and found Melal and the leader standing across from one another. Melal grinned through the blood and yelled again. "You're strong! Why don't you fight for me?"

For a heartbeat everyone stared, then the leader let out a roaring laugh. "And just who are you to order us?"

"I am the Hero, Savior of the Coran Resistance! You should battle the Deathspawn in service of the Legend, not fight your fellow humans!"

Every remaining raider watched the leader in absolute silence. For a moment Tani feared that it would go the way it had with the Coran resistance, the leader ignoring Melal's attempts. Yet Melal had changed since the battle with Aryabaus, and in that moment he was more the Hero than Melal.

"You've got stones, kid!" The leader thumped him on the back and the tension dissolved. As if they hadn't been trying to kill each other, all the raiders lowered their weapons. Tani and Slaten froze in surprise, while Veron looked as though she wanted to stab her opponent in the back and regretted restraining herself.

Slaten reached down to help Tani up and she accepted his hand gratefully. When she looked for her knives, she was surprised to see that the raider whose ribs had been broken was getting back to his feet. He was still losing blood, yet somehow he lived. Across the bloody path, she saw another heavily injured raider rise as well.

"This is a good day after all!" The leader grinned through bloody teeth. "We Bloodskins are not too proud to take from travelers, but we hate the Deathspawn who drove us so far. You have the luck of the mountains to find us here!"

Judging from how bright Melal's eyes shone, Tani doubted that luck had anything to do with it. Though she was uncomfortable with the turn of events, she accepted that this might be what they needed to survive the mountains. If Melal could make the raiders work with them, they had the knowledge to survive the mountains.

She braced herself when one of the raiders approached, yet to her surprise the man completely ignored her. Instead he punched Slaten in the chest, hard enough that the Oken man rocked back slightly but not enough to knock him over.

"Such a mighty blow! Badobu here thinks he's a strong man, but you broke him like a melon!"

Badobu himself grimaced, holding his still-bleeding side, much less amused than his companion. Though Slaten stared back, not knowing how to react, the raiders interpreted it as stoic resolve. With a broad grin, the raider grabbed for his sword to examine it.

"Just what kind of sword is this?"

"It's an Oken blade." Slaten pulled his arm away, but held the blade aloft.

"Oken, huh? A lot of lowlanders are just boys, but Het-Inai is strong. No clans dare to attack them. Maybe there are some real men among the Oken!"

They called themselves a clan instead of a tribe, which surprised Tani. She had expected the raiders to be collections of rogue warriors and former soldiers. Other than their light skin and dark hair, none of them looked particularly related. Then again, they spoke Coran very roughly, so perhaps they did not mean the same thing she did.

The raider pulled Slaten away to one of the others, repeating the story of Slaten's strike. Slaten looked taken aback, though most probably couldn't read that from his expression, while Tani was even more discomforted. They'd barely even glanced at her during the entire conversation, despite the fact that she had been integrally involved in the fight that they found so remarkable.

As she looked over the battleground, Tani noted that none of them were bothering Veron or Laeri. That struck her as curious, though she wasn't sure why they would behave in that way. For the moment, she was simply relieved that none of them made any attempts. It was strange how little they seemed to care for their fallen allies, but perhaps the Legend had arranged for Melal to meet the right raiding clan.

"So, where are you going?" The leader never seemed to lower his voice, so Tani could easily hear his conversation with Melal.

"North! To destroy the Deathspawn once and for all, first I must journey to Mount Tmil!"

"You're meeting the Sage, eh? This path veers west, y-"

Melal grasped the raider by one of the strips of cloth around his neck. "You know of the Sage of Tmil?"

"Of course I do." The raider lazily struck Melal's hand away from his clothes. "The Sage was one of the Stillmarrows once, before he started getting strange ideas. But he has a guardian - Aganomu is the strongest man the Sotunn Mountains have ever seen! So when the Sage built his own clan up on Tmil, none dared fight him."

Veron stepped up beside them, wiping off her sword. "How far west are we?"

The leader gave her a slightly odd look, but answered after only a short pause. "Mount Tmil is in the heart of the Sotunn Mountains. All the lowlander paths are to the west or east, because they didn't dare pass through the highest peaks even before we gained dominance."

"Then you must take us there!" Melal struck a fist into his palm as if it was the obvious solution. The leader nodded along with him, but his eyes hadn't been captured by the Hero's light.

"Tell you what, kid: if you can really kill the Deathspawn, we'll help you out. But we weren't out here to fight you: there's supposed to be an important Deathspawn caravan further west. We were going to raid them, then head east to the Bloodskin village. That will get you part of the way to Mount Tmil, and maybe you can convince some men to make the climb with you."

For several heartbeats Tani was concerned that Melal would attack and begin the fight again, but then he grinned. "Why not? We'll help you kill some of the Deathspawn, then you can guide us to our destination. What's your name, friend?"

The leader introduced himself as Gatoda, a somewhat important member of the Bloodskin clan, though not their chieftain. Apparently that was all the negotiation they needed, because the whole group set off into the mountains. Tani retrieved her throwing knives and followed, uncomfortable but unable to pin down an exact reason... there were too many potential answers.

She walked near Veron and kept her thoughts to herself as they moved, just listening to the conversations. The raiders with Slaten only seemed interested in battles fought, and he had stories they liked, but they carried strange assumptions she didn't understand. Instead she paid more attention to Gatoda and Melal.

Judging from their conversation, the Bloodskins hated the mansthein, but it struck Tani as a rather superficial hatred. They were nothing like the Coran resistance, fighting to regain their homeland: they were first and foremost opportunistic raiders. Given how they seemed to value strength, she wasn't sure why they didn't respect the mansthein.

As they walked, they left the main path and passed into rougher ground. It was difficult going at first, but eventually they reached a smaller trail. Though it was so narrow that the trees obscured it from the wrong angle, it was far easier to move along the worn path than to struggle over true wilderness.

Based on overheard conversations, Tani knew that they had a great distance to travel. Most of the others walked far away from her in the line, while Slaten was nearby but busy with one of the other raiders. Though Tani tried to think about them more humanly, they were still more raiders than Bloodskins to her. To resolve that tension and alleviate her boredom, she increased her pace to walk alongside a man she judged to be roughly her age.

"I am Tani of the Nelee." She smiled as she spoke, but the Bloodskin man barely looked at her.

"Wagoge. I am a man of the Bloodskins."

"I am glad to meet you, Wagoge. If we're going to travel together, I hope we can learn from one another."

"Learn what?" It was difficult to work through his accent at times, so she couldn't be completely certain that she'd understood the derision in his voice. His face certainly gave no hint.

"Perhaps we could trade sein arts with one another? I do not know what else we might have in common, but in my experience warriors always c-"

"Women are not warriors."

He spoke with such confidence that Tani was taken aback. Until that moment, she hadn't thought anything of the fact that the group of raiders happened to be all men. Perhaps that was no coincidence. "What do you mean by that? Veron and I are obviously warriors."

In response, she got a dismissive snort. "Don't be foolish. I mean it in the way we say 'Men have two legs.' Cutting off a man's leg does not change the truth."

"Women have two legs too."

"Are lowlanders incapable of understanding anything? I know you have many wrong ideas about the power of the blood."

"You mean sein?" Tani meant to ask in a neutral voice, but surprised herself with her vitriol. She had thought Corans could be frustrating, but no one had ever said such things to her, much less declared them with such invincible certainty.

The raider shrugged as if it could not matter less. "Whatever you name it, there is hot sein and cold sein. Men create hot blood and release it in battle, while women create cold blood and release it in childbirth. This is the way of things."

She wanted to snap something about the nature of blood, but the last time he hadn't understood. Resolving not to let herself grow angry, she simply asked another question. "Are you saying that women who fight are as unnatural as men who cut off their legs?"

"You understand a little, then! Just as men draw cold blood from women to heal, some women draw hot blood from men and waste it on fighting." He looked over at her, for the first time eyeing her body instead of dismissing her. "You are a fiery one... how much heat have you taken from men, I wonder?"

"None from men like you."

"Hah!" His laugh was scornful, but he looked away from her again. "I much prefer proper women myself. Borrowed blood can never be as strong as natural blood."

Realizing that she would never get through to a fool, Tani turned away from him. He didn't seem to care, but at that moment she just needed a comrade. She wished that she had someone to discuss the conversation with, but none of her options were perfect. Veron would be scornful, Laeri might understand... Slaten would do.

She found him not far behind, no longer talking to one of the other raiders. When she made eye contact with him, he moved up to walk beside her, but said nothing.

"Did you hear?" Tani asked. He simply nodded in response. "Such an infuriating argument... as if sein is so simple that it can be divided into hot and cold!"

"It does seem strange, but many view sein differently." Slaten didn't quite look at her while speaking, as if lost in his own thoughts. "According to Oken custom, sein is divided into different paths. Those with sein best suited for swords cannot be healers, and the reverse. Perhaps this theory of hot and cold sein is based on a similar understanding."

Tani stared at him, trying to figure out if he was serious... but it was Slaten, of course he was serious. She scowled at him to vent all her frustration from the conversation. "Surely you don't think such a simplistic idea can have any merit. They're obviously wrong about women like Veron!"

"Yes, but their survival depends on using sein. Surely they would not survive if they believed in something wholly wrong."

Though Tani started to snap back, she forced herself to remain calm. Thinking back to her master's lessons, she tried to watch herself from the outside. Once she did, she realized that she wasn't angry with Slaten, she had simply asked a question when she truly wanted support. Slaten being Slaten, he had answered the question.

"Not every idea about sein can be true," Tani said, more calmly than she felt. "Surely you agree with that. I've seen many different beliefs about men and women, but this... there's no other culture in this world that believes something like this."

"I'm not sure." Slaten's eyes were on the peaks to their left, but his gaze was much further away. "The mansthein might teach similar things about women, based on what Celiv-"

"I don't want to talk about her."

The words came out in a flood of rage and pain and Slaten immediately shut his mouth. For a time they walked in silence, Tani burning hotly with anger, but she noticed that he still walked beside her. Her anger didn't fade, but she did find growing shame within herself for lashing out at him. Slaten was often the only person she could rely upon when it came to the Hero and she didn't want them to argue like this.

She knew that he would never be the one to try to resolve what had passed between them, so she took a deep breath and calmed herself. Perhaps it would be best simply to be direct with him. Tani formed her thoughts for some time before asking the right question.

"Do you really believe their view of the world is true?"

Slaten was silent for a time before he answered quietly. "It seems difficult to believe. But I would like to understand why they believe these things to be true."

"That's admirable and ridiculous at the same time, Slaten." Tani found herself giving him a fond smile. "If you met a man who said that the sky lay below our feet and the earth arced overhead, would you try to understand his truth as well?"

"Of course. Perhaps his people have truly unusual beliefs about the earth and sky. Or perhaps some deformity of birth has made his eyes grow upside down."

Tani laughed out loud. Slaten smiled with her, but his expression held a bit of awkwardness that suggested his last sentence might not have been a joke, which made Tani laugh harder. She had to grab his arm to avoid falling over as the laughter took her over some rough rocks, but he stabilized her.

By the time she caught her breath, all the humor slipped from her mind. Melal had made an alliance with a clan of raiders on a reckless journey to a dangerous mountain range, all in a faint hope that this was the Legend's path. She followed him in the hope that she could forge something better from the unyielding light. On top of that, it seemed the raiders would never truly respect her.

If she had told herself everything she would face when she followed Melal north, she might have made a different decision.

Chapter 5

-

"Text: North of the Chorhan Expanse lie the stupendous Sotunn Mountains, the largest mountain range on the continent of Breilin, a freezing wasteland in which no traveler can survive. Even I - Telekrainas the Great - struggled to climb those great peaks. And when I reached the other side - woe! - there was naught but the stupendous Sotunn Desert that can be crossed only by one of the two great rivers of the north.

Gloss: Telekrainas avoided both mountains and desert by taking a ship to Hettin Island around the western side of the continent, so his information must have come from traders. Though mostly accurate, his account says nothing of the wet forests and riverlands just south of the mountains."

- excerpt from The Annotated Travels of Telekrainas the Great

-

The wind rustled past Celivia's body, swaying the branch on which she sat. Though she was ostensibly scouting, she kept her eyes closed, focusing on the breeze itself. She had long heard sein in the form of the wind, so she began with that, but she tried to feel it deeper within herself. First she tried to smell the wind, though she found herself focusing on the scents it carried. Then she tried to focus on the way it moved the world around her, from her branch down to the needles on the tree.

Eventually she opened her eyes, having completed her exercises but not having deepened her understanding in any way. Slightly strengthening the sein flowing through her was only a minor step compared to comprehending it in a more profound way. She feared that her current position was well-suited to the former but not the latter.

After many days ranging across their region of the Sotunn Mountains, Celivia had gained deeply mixed feelings about her position. On one hand, it wasn't what she'd feared. After they'd developed a series of camps and she'd delegated duties among her band, it wasn't as though she was overwhelmed with administrative duties. She had all the time in the world to train.

Yet it wasn't enough. A narrow-minded focus on strength would never lead her far enough, but she was lacking in anything to stimulate her to new approaches. In the absence of human raiders, the mountains were utterly dull. The beauty had entranced her for a time, but she could only stare at it for so long when there was so much more to be done.

"Yo, band leader!" It was Little Ragh, kicking the base of the tree. Celivia felt a flash of annoyance, but suppressed it to listen to what he was saying. "Brifik shit his pants again!"

The response was a gale of laughter, though Celivia didn't think it was directed at her. In fact, after days of keeping her at a distance, the fact that her band was involving her in a joke was an improvement. Part of her wondered if it was also mocking her, suggesting she should play a mothering role... but Little Ragh wasn't all that bright. Probably not.

Celivia dropped off the edge of her branch, landing beside the camp hard enough that wind swept in all directions. Brifik had been objecting and the others laughing, but all of them paused as she straightened.

"Is that why they have you in charge of cleaning all the equipment, Brifik?" Her question led to another burst of laughter from the band. Not because it had been particularly clever, but in surprise that she had played along.

She noted that two didn't laugh. Fijn just rolled his eyes, while Splinters had looked down with a surly expression as soon as she landed. The latter had always obeyed orders, but she had to wonder if he just hated everyone or if he would be a problem.

"Do you want a drink, Kaen?" Krafan extended a flask toward her with a broad smile and Celivia thought hard about how to respond.

Her time in command had left her with mixed feelings about her band as well. They didn't look down on her the way men would have in central Fein Karnak, but the relationship was uneasy. Most likely they viewed her as a typical Seinan woman, both admired and hated from a distance. She'd been concerned about trying to force things, but this was an invitation...

"Why not?" Celivia gave an easy smile and casually took the flask from him. As she did so, she circulated sein through her body as a ward against drunkenness and also against poison. It tasted like whiskey to her. She took a deep drink before sitting down and handing it back. "Thanks."

"I'm not letting the band get drunk," Ghasfik said stiffly. Celivia just acknowledged it with a wave.

"We all need to be on our guards, but we're far enough out that we don't have enough to drink for that to be a problem."

"You can say that again," Big Ragh said. The large man tossed a small stone at Fijn. "Can't you get us any booze out here?"

Fijn just let the stone bounce off him. "Unless you can distill alcohol from tree bark, we don't have a lot of options. Of course, you probably would drink something like that."

"Hah! If you figured out how to make it, I'd drink it!"

"What about one of those little human villages?" Little Ragh piped up, gesturing vaguely to the west, where there weren't any villages. "Couldn't we just take theirs?"

There was a bit of a pause and Celivia wondered if she needed to speak up, but Ghasfik saved her. "We don't have a strong enough presence to fight every group of humans, idiot. The raiders are bad enough."

Though Little Ragh grumbled and looked down, Huthur spoke up from where he was working beyond the fire. "Could we trade with them, though? Would that go against orders?"

Some looked to Ghasfik, but at least some looked to her as well. Since the older mansthein stayed quiet, Celivia answered. "The company leader never forbade it, but we should be careful. Some of the local villages have sympathies with the nearest raiding clans."

Her words set off a new buzz of conversation, the band speculating about what food they could potentially buy from local villages. They spoke about the humans with considerable reserve, like they were unfamiliar enemies, but it wasn't the raw hatred she had expected. Then again, not many soldiers on a quiet front could muster the hatred that propaganda demanded.

She accepted some of the food they gave her, thinking much too carefully about how she bit into her meat before deciding that it didn't matter. They ate like savages and didn't seem to pay much attention to how she bit anything. Still, she sat along with them to learn their patterns.

Mostly Celivia just stayed quiet and let them talk around her. Some, like Fijn and Ghasfik, were extremely aware of her presence. Krafan focused on her, regularly offering drinks. Brifik and the Raghs seemed to have forgotten about her and told increasingly reckless jests. Two weren't by the fire: Splinters had slipped away in protest, while Huthur continued working on the camouflaged blind they'd discussed.

"Maybe if you paid a human whore, you could get your dick wet for once."

The words brought Celivia back sharply into focus, though no one else seemed to notice. Brifik was mocking Little Ragh, and the small man immediately bristled. "You think even an ugly bastard like me would fuck a human? Naw, that's disgusting. They're nothing like a good woman, all..."

He trailed off and more than a few eyes fell on her as some members of the band remembered that she was there. Celivia had absolutely no idea how to navigate through that mess. She didn't want them to think about fucking her, but condemning them could lead to backlash. Pausing before answering could make her look weak, so she went with the question that automatically came to mind.

"Why wouldn't you fuck a human?" When her question produced a bit of confusion but seemed to get them off the previous track, Celivia decided to press on. "Their eyes are the wrong color, but they're not that different from us."

Her statement immediately provoked a storm of objections. Brifik spat on the ground in disgust, the Raghs shook their heads, and only Fijn put his objection into a coherent form. "They're similar, but so much about them is just wrong. The eyes, I could look past, but the rest?"

"You don't need to look at her eyes!" Big Ragh said with a laugh. Celivia decided to let that go and watched Fijn as he kept speaking. He was often sarcastic, but not this time.

"But have you ever gotten close to one of them? They're just covered in hair. Uh, not good Seinan hair like yours, band leader. There's all kinds of little bristling hairs coming out of every hole. It's repulsive."

Several others chorused agreement, which prompted an odd smile on her face. "They're hairier than most mansthein, but they have far less hair than a Feras. You feel the same way about Feras mansthein?"

To her surprise, she received immediate affirmations from all around, some of them surprisingly vitriolic. Abruptly Celivia realized that she had let herself relax and hadn't considered her words carefully enough. For her, the Feras were just one of many types of mansthein that one could easily love - memories of Zerril came to mind. But most of the men in her band had probably never gone far from their home villages before joining the army. To them, Feras mansthein were nearly as alien as humans.

Unfortunately, the band saw her displeasure and it killed the conversation. All at once, the distance stretched wider between them. Before she could think of how to stop it, Krafan leaned forward to catch her gaze, trying to project sincerity as he spoke.

"Kaen, I know you think we're a bunch of ignorant peasants, but we're not. We don't think females should be in the pits or anything. We don't even care that Huthur is bent, so long as he doesn't creep up behind us at night..."

Huthur threw a pine cone at Krafan's head and a few laughed. Briefly. The tension around the fire was obvious, actually worsened by Krafan's abrupt sincerity. Celivia was torn between a flicker of guilt that she had been thinking of them that way... and an enduring cold gulf between herself and the rest of her band.

"You're missing the real question." Fijn spoke crisply, and when he drew everyone's attention, he raised an imperious finger. "The real thing we've learned is that our band leader would fuck a human."

Celivia snorted and made a rude gesture. "I'd say 'in your dreams' but you'd better not."

Thankfully, she'd gauged correctly: the band needed a break in the tension and laughed uproariously. It might not have gone away, but the simple mockery had flattened all the negative implications for now. If Fijn had proved that they could mock her safely, that was probably a step in the right direction.

"Band leader!" Big Ragh got down on one knee in front of her. "Please, you don't have to subject yourself to that! I would reluctantly volunteer t-"

"Go fuck yourself. Human or mansthein, nobody else will."

Several laughed and Brifik spoke through a snicker. "Or you could ask Huthu-" A pine cone smacked him directly in the face. Brifik let out a cry and somehow got part of it in his mouth, which led to his attempts to spit the pieces out drawing more laughter from everyone. The uncomfortable spell seemed mostly broken, though Celivia decided that it might be best to retreat before things could grow worse.

Nobody objected when she walked away from the fire, so she considered it a success overall. She went out to lean against a tree, noting that two followed her. Ghasfik had risen to his feet immediately, as if he wanted to speak to her, but Krafan was the one who actually pushed forward to come up beside her.

"I'm sorry about all that, Kaen Celivia."

"It's fine." She gave him a flat smile, hoping that his interest was merely polite. "I've been a soldier for years, remember? A band should be comfortable with itself."

"Yes, but I imagine this must be difficult for you. The men are used to fighting without women, but you're surrounded by men at all times..."

Was that what it implied? Celivia let her smile drop a bit. "I need to keep watch, Nin Krafan."

"I didn't mean anything by it, Kaen." Krafan seemed a bit deflated in a way she couldn't entirely interpret. It might not have been the obvious invitation, but he did feel rejected. "But very well, I'll leave you alone."

After the extended conversation, Celivia just let him go. Ghasfik was waiting further back, but didn't approach her immediately. In that time, her mind wandered.

What Krafan said was not remotely true. Being surrounded by a group of men belching, shitting, scratching themselves, and generally stinking of filth did not incline her to think about men at all. Not that women wouldn't stink after marching this long, but most would have taken more care to clean themselves.

That made Celivia think back to Reina and how carefully she would clean her teeth. Even if she was still covered in bloody rags from a seinrage, she always kept her teeth in excellent condition. Though the two of them were no longer together, and Celivia believed that was for the best, thoughts of all of Reina's careful habits brought a smile to her face.

Somehow Celivia ended up thinking of Tani.

It hadn't been anything she had realized until that moment, yet Celivia found herself thinking of the way that Tani's short hair brushed against her neck. Or the way her slender body looked in the rain, or the flickering of her fingers around her knives... it had been one thing to appreciate them, but Celivia hadn't expected those images to stay with her so strongly.

Especially because she'd destroyed that friendship, possibly forever.

She was grateful when Ghasfik interrupted her with a cough. When she nodded back to him, her face now completely still, he spoke in a low voice. "I think that was good, band leader. The men didn't know how to act around you."

"Thank you."

"But, in my opinion, you need to follow by pushing them hard. I don't know if you really want to be their friend, but you can't be. Not if you want to give the hard orders, and especially not if you actually want to make something of this position."

It was a valid reminder. "I'll order a double march for several days and try to fully scout our territory. Will that do?"

"Very good, band leader." Ghasfik gave a slight bow and left her alone. She reflected that he was a good second, though it would be premature to assume that she could truly rely on him.

Though she was usually comfortable being alone, now Celivia was surrounded by ghosts of past decisions. Perhaps the best medicine would be to throw herself into her work. As he'd said, make something of the position...

~ ~ ~

For several days Celivia pushed her band harder than normal, though she tried to do so without malice. They grumbled a bit at the pace, but good-naturedly. When they marched the others seemed more comfortable with her, and in the evenings, though she didn't usually join them, there was a little friendly banter.

It was a narrow path to walk, but so far she seemed to be walking it. More importantly, she was able to focus more of her attention on the task that had been assigned to them. She knew the valleys they ranged fairly well now, so she checked for signs of raider activity. On occasion they saw someone in the distance, but the humans always retreated.

Then a messenger delivered a command from Lieutenant Tamanin that took them outside of their normal region to investigate a report. When they arrived in the tiny human village, they found it wrecked. Several men lay dead and a woman had been impaled upright, but what struck Celivia was the wastefulness of it. The raiders had grabbed whatever they could carry and ruined much of the rest. This wasn't even an act of war, only simple barbarism.

Her band investigated the village, though she didn't think they'd find anything she'd missed. The real reason she gave the order was to give the men a bit of time. They'd seen some fighting and death, but that didn't mean they were hardened to sights such as these.

While she waited near the edge of one broken home, Celivia noticed that Splinters was loitering outside as well. Since she didn't want to think about what she'd seen either, she decided that now was as good a time to confront him as any. He started to move away, but she intercepted him.

"This is what we're fighting against." Celivia swept a hand over the wreckage. "I know you don't like me, but I need you to fight with me."

"Eat shit." This time Splinters actually made full eye contact with her and she saw the contempt there. "The only reason I obey is because I know you'd execute me the first chance you got."

"If I wanted to kill you, I could. What I want is to understand why you're acting this way."

"You're part of that program to train females from the pits, aren't you?" Though he asked, the sneer on his face suggested that it was no question. "They took a bunch of whores and gave you everything. Education, training, equipment... then you come back like you own the world, thinking you're better than us..."

Celivia didn't let herself respond in any way. She wasn't sure how. In her estimation, there was likely no way that she would ever get through to him. Part of her wanted to kill him right that moment and be done with it, but that would only bring her more problems. Just as she was about to reprimand him, she heard the wind whistle unnaturally.

Three spears flew from the trees toward them. Faster than most could throw a spear, but not thrown with so much sein that she couldn't react. One was on a path to miss them altogether, the second was aimed for her but she could dodge aside, and the last headed toward Splinters's chest.

She reached out and knocked it aside. The next moment she regretted it.

There was no time for that; Celivia pivoted to call to the rest of her band. "Ambush! Get down!"

Though the raiders had thrown at her first, their timing was only off by a heartbeat and her warning came almost too late. She saw Little Ragh take a spear to the shoulder before the others dropped behind cover. Some managed to duck behind the damaged buildings, and Huthur was holding a blind that let him shield two others, but others simply hit the ground, leaving them completely exposed from most angles.

Celivia caught a glimpse of movement in the trees and launched herself toward it, her whip flying from her side. She lashed it around the raider who was drawing back for a throw. The blades dug deep, yet he grunted in surprise more than pain, shocked to see her. There was no time for him, since there were two more beyond him.

They turned and hurled their spears at her, but their movements were easy to read. Celivia released her whip and lunged past the spears, cutting the second raider's throat before he could even draw another weapon. The third could follow her movements, so he wasn't weak, but his attack was too clumsy and the horn of her knife buried itself deep in his eye.

She turned, still on guard, and that discipline was what gave her enough time to react. The human whose arm she'd whipped hadn't even tried to pull it out, he'd simply rushed after her to attack.

Fortunately, he was no more skilled than his comrades. Celivia buried one knife in his neck and the other in his chest. She pushed him to the ground to finish him off, noting how powerfully his sein still surged even with such wounds. The raider whose throat she had slit was somehow still on his feet, holding his throat closed with one hand and scrabbling for his weapon with the other.

Neither of them survived a knife directly to the head.

Once she was sure they were dead, Celivia turned back to the fight. It had all occurred fast enough that the rest of the battle hadn't progressed far. Since there didn't seem to be any more raiders throwing spears from afar, she took the moment to watch her band in combat.

It wasn't pretty, both in terms of their lack of organization and how the eight of them struggled against three raiders. These humans didn't have a deep understanding of sein, but her band was mostly untrained soldiers. She could tell that Big Ragh used his sein to enhance his strength, possibly subconsciously. Fijn was quick, though she wasn't sure if sein was involved. Other than Ghasfik, whose experience was clear, none of the others were remarkable.

Her fears of them attacking her had been misplaced. Instead, they needed her help.

Working together, they'd managed to bring down two of the raiders, but the humans kept struggling up despite the band hacking at their bodies. Meanwhile, Celivia could see that one of the others was preparing himself to jump at Big Ragh. She leapt down toward the village, hoping she would be in time.

Big Ragh realized a moment too late, suddenly stumbling back as the human let out a war cry and began hacking at him. The taller mansthein avoided the blows only by falling down. He started to desperately scramble back, but his opponent was too quick.

Celivia arrived behind him, knives entering the human's neck and back. She tore her blades back and kicked him to the ground. Meanwhile, the rest of the band had finished off the others, but Big Ragh just stared up at her in shock. Finally, the attitude he'd carried toward her had broken.

"Thanks for holding him off." Celivia extended a hand down to him and he hesitantly took it. She couldn't resist using her full strength to lift him back to his feet.

She looked over her band and saw that they were badly shaken. Though they hadn't taken any casualties, they had been expecting to fight other soldiers, not sein-trained warriors. Apparently their training hadn't included outnumbering a superior warrior and being repeatedly crushed, the way hers had. Little Ragh was on his back clutching the spear in his shoulder while the others had an assortment of lesser injuries. The damage to their morale could be the worst part, though.

"We won this time, but there could be more." Celivia spoke loudly enough to draw their attention and then began giving orders. "Krafan and Big Ragh, scout for others without going out of sight. Ghasfik, look at the bodies and learn what you can. Fijn, collect all their weapons. Huthur, Brifik - start doing something about all our damaged equipment. Splinters, you guard Little Ragh while he gets that spear out."

All of them rushed to move. Though she knew it was partially just because they desperately needed anything to occupy themselves, she was still slightly gratified. In reality, she was fairly certain there were no more raiders in the area, but they might be avoiding her.

Splinters glowered at her as he turned away. He knew that she'd saved his life, but it didn't matter, which stole all the pleasure from their victory.

She wasn't quite sure what to do with herself and didn't want to be seen standing around doing nothing. Fortunately, Ghasfik came up to her soon and spoke in a low voice. "These humans are from the Redbranch clan."

"How can you tell?"

"Most wear whatever pieces of cloth they can find, but each clan has some symbol. For these, it's the branches they weave into their collars." He showed her with his foot on one of the corpses. "They might not be red, but the trees in their village are."

Celivia turned toward him and lowered her voice further. "These aren't warriors like the ones you referred to in the past, are they?"

"No. The Redbranches are a weak clan, but even they have much stronger warriors. This must have been a raid by young men seeking glory, and they only attempted the ambush because we found them too quickly."

"In that case, we have difficult days ahead. I propose that we return to Fort Corfaal. We can tell the band that it's to report, but we need to get those injuries checked and to give them some time to recover."

"That's probably a good idea."

For a time they just stood together, staring over the remains of the battle. Despite everything, Celivia found herself feeling lighter again. She had experienced some discomfort with her decision to betray the Coran resistance, even if she believed it was the right thing to do, and even more betraying her human friends. But these raiders killed humans and mansthein alike, and she felt no uncertainty that wiping them off the face of the earth would be good.

"Tell me, Ghasfik... how do the Redbranches respond to ambushes?"

"Ambushes?" Her second looked back at her, then shook his head. "You must understand, this is not usually a position for ambitious leaders. Our goal is to prevent them from gathering in force and taking the fort. I don't know if anyone has actively hunted them."

Celivia turned to her second and smiled. "In that case, we have another reason to go back to the fortress."

Chapter 6

-

"Text: Once I prevailed over the horrible elements, dear reader, I found myself in the great nations of the north together known as the Maenhu. Extraordinary Espal, proudest and greatest, lies in the west, peculiar Portant lies in the center, and woeful Wahleen extends far to the east. I will write much and more of the cultured glories of Espal over the coming pages but I will also beguile you with tales of the warriors of Portant, who grind up acorns and pour them into their ears, believing that it grants them strength, or the wanton warrior women of Wahleen, who can make their hair come alive and strangle men.

Gloss: All these accounts of the Maenhu are heavily influenced by the fact that Telekrainas lived only in Espal. Some scholars believe his tale of ground acorns is a misunderstanding of the customs of Portantese mystics. I am not convinced it is a misunderstanding of anything."

- excerpt from The Annotated Travels of Telekrainas the Great

-

The journey became more difficult the deeper they traveled into the Sotunn Mountains, yet though Slaten struggled with the climb, he knew he fared better than many. Two of the injured Bloodskins, including the one whose ribs he had broken, fell and no longer rose.

To Slaten's surprise, they were simply abandoned by the other raiders, and later the others referred to the fallen as weak children. He had noted that the men who died after the battle had been treated strangely, struck with blades and spit upon, yet the actions felt more ritual than scorn. It was difficult to understand exactly why they did any of it while he reflected on the fact that one of the fallen had been the one he struck.

His name had been Badobu. Slaten wasn't sure whether or not he carried the man's blood, but it didn't matter.

It seemed a strange practice to call someone weak for succumbing to an injury, yet that was clearly their way. Slaten noticed that though Laeri didn't assist any of the Bloodskins, those that lived healed remarkably well. One man he had cut several times no longer had any scars, as if his body had entirely forgotten the injuries.

Clearly, the Bloodskin clan possessed a remarkable sein technique that healed them: working out its details was the real question. Tani was certain that they all fought on animal instinct and that there was nothing to learn, but Slaten wasn't convinced. The Bloodskins did seem more similar to one another than most groups of warriors that he'd met, but there were other explanations. They might be hiding their secrets, or he might fundamentally misunderstand their teaching methods.

So far, the only one to make any true progress was Melal. Veron grew steadily more frustrated with the warriors, Laeri was too frightened to talk to anyone, and Tani had given up on them. Even Melal's connection was limited, focused mostly on arguing and drinking in the evenings. The Bloodskins were beginning to respect him, but they still held back.

Slaten had been focusing on his sein while they marched for some time, but reached his limits for effective training. Returning his focus to the world around him, he discovered that it was the same forested mountain as before. He noticed that Tani and Veron were talking to each other in low voices, so instead he went to find the others.

Near the head of the group, he found Laeri walking, leaning heavily on her staff. Their pace had grown quicker since they joined the Bloodskins, so despite the easier path, she was struggling. Worse, she had two Bloodskin raiders on either side of her.

"If you've only been with lowlander men," one of them was saying, "you've never known a real man."

Laeri blushed and tried to turn away, but there was only another raider on the other side. He didn't move any closer, just leered. "Just wait until we get to the clan village. You'll never want to go back."

Should he take action? Slaten knew that the Bloodskins were on average somewhat stronger than him, though violence wouldn't have been effective in any case. They were clearly bothering Laeri, but they weren't touching her and getting involved could make things worse.

"Oh, don't tease Laeri!" Melal moved down the path in the opposite direction, waving the two of them away. "She'll just blush and stammer anyway."

One of the raiders didn't move aside, instead stopping less than a pace from Melal and staring him down. "Why should I? Is she your woman?"

"Are you questioning me?" Melal put his hand on the hilt of his sword, a single breath from shedding blood. Then, without any apparent reason, the hard light in his gaze faded. He reached out and grabbed Laeri around the waist, pulling her against his side. "Keep your hands off."

"Lucky bastard." One of the Bloodskins moved away, but the second stayed, shaking his head.

"I never thought the Hero could be a lowlander..." With that statement, the second raider loped into the woods toward the front of the line.

That left Melal just standing there, still gripping the fiercely blushing Laeri. He glared after the Bloodskins warriors for a time, then turned back to the healer. "Are you alright, Laeri?"

"I... I'm fine, Melal. You can let go of me now."

"Nonsense! Your feet are getting all worn out on these paths... I need you fresh to heal me!" That declared, he scooped her up into his arms. Laeri yelped and flailed a bit, but she clung to him instead of struggling as he carried her forward along the trail.

Slaten watched the entire encounter and wondered what it should mean to him. He'd learned a little about how the Bloodskins thought. Laeri was safe for the time being. Perhaps that was all that mattered and no action had been necessary on his part.

Since he didn't want to pay attention to Laeri and Melal acting like that, Slaten receded back into himself. As he focused on the flow of his sein, part of him wanted to expand it in a meaningful way. Surely there was some way he could become more than he was.

Yet traveling with the Bloodskins was essentially the perfect experience to keep him on the same path. He could learn arts of strength and skill from them, but the art of casting force he'd learned from Graenin could not be found in their ideas of hot and cold sein. Among them, he couldn't improve his Futhik or learn any noncombat skills. For them, there seemed to be only one path.

He'd accomplished nothing but training when he heard calls and whoops. His hand automatically moved to the sword at his side before he realized it wasn't an attack: the Bloodskin scouts had found something. Several rushed to Gatoda at the head of the group, conversing in low tones, then the leader turned and called to the others.

"We've found the Deathspawn! From here, we need to strike like the night, so warriors only."

"We will join you." Melal stepped up beside him and Gatoda didn't challenge him. "You may know much of raiding, but I am master of killing Deathspawn."

"Just don't make so much noise they run from us!" Gatoda slapped him on the back, then gestured to all the others to form up and head into the mountains.

The Bloodskins' behavior changed, loud celebrations falling away as they prepared to hunt. Though they favored brutal weapons in direct combat, all carried two spears as well. There was some confusion where Veron and Tani were refused, but when they followed anyway the Bloodskins eventually stopped resisting.

Slaten drifted along with them, unsure about what was to take place. Clearly, they would sneak to this caravan and then kill the travelers. Though Slaten wondered who they were, he knew that he couldn't stop Melal and the Bloodskins. Probably not either alone, and certainly not united in one purpose. He could only hope that the caravan was a hostile mansthein force, though that was only an ineffective salve for his conscience.

Instead of running with sein flowing through their bodies, the Bloodskins seemed to throw themselves forward with simple physical force. Not only was it effective, they moved without rousing his awareness of sein. He felt certain that he missed a central piece of that puzzle, yet if it existed, it likely sat locked away with Oken elders.

They maintained their pace for some time and Slaten kept up, though his muscles burned. Eventually they reached the edge of a broad mountain pass and crept into position. Lacking a spear, Slaten wasn't sure how to participate, so he focused on keeping himself hidden as the caravan approached.

Eventually it came into sight, several wagons and a contingent of soldiers moving over the rough road. Slaten felt cool relief as he saw that all appeared to be combatants. Canvas covered the wagons, so it was difficult to know what they contained. Most were rough wains, yet in the center... it was less a wagon than an ornate box on wheels, large enough to contain people and with doors that suggested it was a form of transportation.

None of the Bloodskins seemed to find it worthy of note, they simply attacked. Their first volley of spears struck true, dropping many of the mansthein soldiers. Instead of panicking, the group pulled back, several raising shields in a unified formation. The second volley of spears mostly broke off against it, though one was thrown with such force that it sent the shield-bearer sprawling.

"Attack!" Melal was the one who called the command, though it was unnecessary: the Bloodskins were already rushing down at the caravan, letting out war cries.

The Bloodskins hit the shield wall before Slaten could properly follow. For a moment they struggled against it, several of them struck by spears thrust between the shields. Yet those injuries failed to stop them, and they pressed forward with raw strength. Against better trained opponents, Slaten thought that their charge might have failed, but they were warriors fighting against soldiers with little knowledge of sein.

Even so, two of the mansthein nearly turned the tide. One thrust his shield forward so forcefully that he pushed back the assault. The second caught a Bloodskin weapon with his shield, a complex flow of sein somehow binding the weapon in place. That left its wielder open, and the mansthein lunged forward, taking out an eye with a well-placed thrust.

At that moment Melal hit the group, shearing directly through a shield with an impossible blow. Added to the ferocity of Gatoda, their attack completely destroyed the group's discipline. From there it was a rout, some of the mansthein attempting to flee, others fighting and being cut down.

Slaten had drawn his sword and done nothing. Not because of the speed of the battle, but because he hadn't made a choice.

Though the Bloodskins had been deadly serious during the attack, once their opposition was crushed, their attitude changed. Some went after the remaining mansthein soldiers, laughing as they cut them apart. Others tore aside the canvas to loot the wagons, calling out to one another as they found valuable items. Gatoda and another raider went directly toward the box-like wagon, and Slaten followed them on instinct.

The door appeared to be locked, but after rattling the handle a few times, Gatoda simply tore it off its hinges. He barked out a laugh, reached into the wagon, and hurled a small figure to the ground.

"I've never seen a Deathspawn this small! Is it even a man or a woman?"

To Slaten's eyes, it looked like a terrified boy. He realized that he was moving forward with his sword still in hand but couldn't stop himself.

"Please..." When he spoke, the boy was even more obviously a child. His eyes darted between the raiders in terror. "My father will p-pay for my return. What... whatever you want..."

"We don't make deals with your kind." One of the other raiders reached out and grabbed the boy's arm, twisting it around behind him with a painful crack. The boy let out a cry and struggled, useless against the Bloodskin's superior strength.

"Wait." Slaten reached the group and spoke louder than he intended, immediately drawing their attention. "Don't kill him."

Gatoda stepped into his path, formless murder in his eyes. The Bloodskin man wasn't taller than Slaten, but his body was much thicker. "Why not? Why shouldn't we have a bit of fun with Deathspawn filth?"

"This child was carried in a special wagon and guarded by a large group of Deathspawn. I don't know who his father is, but that's proof that he's someone important. Killing him earns us nothing, but we might be able to learn something useful if we keep him alive."

Silence closed around them, the laughter and calls from the other raiders distant in his ears. Most of the Bloodskins looked surprised. The boy stared at him with a flicker of desperate hope. Gatoda took a step closer, their faces almost touching, and then bared his teeth in a smile.

"That's your idea of what to do with him." Gatoda shoved him in the chest, knocking him a step back. "But we can do what we want with him because we're stronger. You don't get to decide unless you have the stones to stake your claim."

There was no other choice. Slaten raised his sword-

He saw Gatoda move, but not fast enough to avoid the fist that struck his upper arm. Slaten felt the shock of fracturing pain before the force knocked him to the side, colliding with a rocky cliff face.

For an instant he was stunned, his face pressed against the jagged rock. Yet his instincts told him that the Bloodskin might be coming after him, so Slaten forced himself back. His right arm was definitely broken, so he raised his sword in his left and pointed it toward the group.

Gatoda stared at him, then took a lunging step and let out a piercing war cry. Slaten refused to flinch, even though he knew that he couldn't win the fight. To his surprise, instead of attacking, Gatoda instead stepped back and let out another laugh.

"You have some stones after all! Maybe you have a point. I won't deal with Deathspawn, but we could have some fun torturing information out of the boy first. Maybe he can lead us to even more treasure, eh?"

Though Gatoda turned to the other Bloodskins and they seemed to accept this conclusion, Slaten realized too late that it didn't matter. Melal had noticed the conflict and now approached, his eyes flashing angrily.

"These Deathspawn are only distractions, not our true enemy!" Before anyone could stop him, he sank his sword into the boy's chest. The child stared down at it, less in pain and more in shock as if he couldn't believe that the sword had impaled him. "You can meet your father in hell."

Melal twisted his sword, finally drawing loud cries of pain as the boy died. Some of the Bloodskins laughed and mocked his high-pitched voice, while Slaten found himself frozen. He didn't want to watch, but the boy's pained expression was already etched in his mind.

After that, it was essentially over. There was the killing of the injured soldiers and the looting of the wagons, but Slaten could barely focus on any of it. He simply stood with his broken arm hanging at his side, his sword still drawn and useless. When someone drew him aside, he didn't resist.

Only when they passed into the forest beside the path did he return to himself. It was only Tani, so his numb mind hadn't been concerned, but now he saw the expression on her face. Her eyes met his just briefly, instead sliding over the scene of victory in clear distaste.

"These people are savages." Tani pronounced her judgment with grim certainty. "Did you see how they enjoyed torturing the defeated?"

"I saw."

"This isn't acceptable. We had little choice but to work with the Coran resistance, but these raiders are worse. And this time we do have a choice."

Slaten only stared at her, wishing he felt more than numb. "What choice?"

"We can leave. Melal will survive and no doubt he'll be leading them soon enough. But the rest of us can go to Mount Tmil on our own and learn what the Sage knows. It wouldn't be easy, but with Veron and Laeri it would be possible. It would be better than participating in this butchery."

"I'm not sure," Slaten said. He hadn't been able to express his doubt even to himself until he spoke. "They'll go on butchering whether or not we're here."

Tani cast him an incredulous look. "I admit we can't stop them ourselves, but how can you stand by and let it happen?"

"I tried." Slaten gestured to his arm and saw Tani's expression immediately soften. Her anger still burned hot within her, however, so he did his best to explain further. "Do you want to leave Melal with them? Yes, they may accept him as the Hero. But what influence will they have on him?"

"That..." She trailed off, clearly accepting his argument though she didn't want to. "I will admit that a Hero who thought like these savages would be worse. But do you honestly think that you can influence them at all?"

"I don't know. It seems that they might respect my strength where they won't acknowledge yours. And at least Melal would have some connection to us. It's possible that they will change his mind and he'll go astray from Mount Tmil."

"Lately he's seemed much more driven, but... you may be right." Tani closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Then we split up. Hopefully we can all meet again at Mount Tmil."

Slaten worried for the three of them traveling in the mountains, given the evident strength of the raiding clans, yet didn't know how to put his concern into words. "Don't go if Veron doesn't agree."

"I'm not a fool, Slaten. I understand that we need strength to survive here, and Veron is the only one of us who has enough. But I think I can convince her if-"

"Don't bother." Veron emerged from the woods beside them, one side of her mouth slouching in a grimace. "I thought this might be like being a bandit again, but these Bloodskins... they're not going to really accept us. This is just going to get worse, so we might as well leave."

"Then let's go before they finish!" Tani smiled broadly at Veron, while the older woman just winced and took a long drink. Her eyes seemed to be wandering toward Melal, then jerking away again, but Slaten thought that her resolve wouldn't break.

Since Tani pulled on his healthy arm, Slaten went with her as they approached the victorious raiders. Some had dropped into small circles, eating and drinking the spoils from the wagons, while others were binding supplies in large canvas bundles for transport. Partway across the group, Laeri nervously hovered near Melal, though she turned when Tani called.

"Laeri! Can you see to Slaten's arm?"

"Oh!" Laeri hurried toward them, but Tani drew them away, forcing her to follow until they were further from the Bloodskins. Eventually Laeri pushed him down to sit and began to press her fingers against his arm, so gently that he didn't feel any pain.

"The bone is broken, but it's a minor fracture. Your defensive arts will make this easier to heal." Laeri smiled at him as she set to work, waves of warm sein passing into his arm. "I'm glad to be able to help. I offered with the raiders, but they all refused! Do you know why they'd do that? Why would they seem so insulted when I just wanted to help?"

Though Slaten opened his mouth to answer, Tani stepped in first. "I wanted you to heal Slaten's arm, Laeri, but I also wanted to talk to you. Veron and I are leaving. We'll reach the Sage first and meet up with Melal there."

"Oh my!" Laeri managed to keep her voice down, but just barely, her large eyes staring at Tani in surprise. "But... but isn't it safest to stay with them? Melal thinks they can help us get through the mountains. If we ran into an even worse group when we were alone..."

"Alone, we'll be able to travel faster and lighter." Tani leaned in, putting a hand on Laeri's arm. "Do you really feel safer here, Laeri? They won't accept your healing and they could..."

"No!" Laeri swung her head back and forth as if to cast off the idea. "Melal will protect me. They haven't bothered me since he... he's the Hero, Tani. I want to help him, even if it's only a little!"

"But will you be able to help him, here?"

"If he's mortally injured I might be the only one who could save him. I... I'll fight off all the raiders and force the healing on him if I have to!"

Both Slaten and Tani hesitated in the face of Laeri's surprising intensity. Part of Slaten had expected Tani to pressure the other woman into going, but it seemed that Laeri had found her spine at the wrong time. That left Tani with a group of only two. Judging from the grim set of her face, she considered the risk, but it didn't change her determination.

"Are you sure, Tani?" He had to ask the question, even if he couldn't argue with her. She nodded toward the mountains.

"It's the same dilemma we've spoken about before. This is too far for me. If I just follow the Hero now, I won't be doing anything to stop him." She managed a smile as she looked back at him, but it struggled to remain on her face. "We'll go ahead to Mount Tmil and see if there's a way to make the Legend work for us instead of against us. You can keep track of Melal and try to keep him from..."

She trailed off, so Slaten nodded. "I will do what I can."

"Thank you, Slaten. I hope to see you again soon."

Both of them knew how little that hope was worth. Slaten watched Tani as she met up with Veron and the two of them vanished into the trees. Beside him, Laeri had halted in her healing, watching after them with glistening eyes but managing to contain her emotions. Only after they had vanished did she return her attention to him.

"Slaten... this is the right path, isn't it? If we don't help the Hero, the war will just go on and on, and the Deathspawn will kill everyone... we need to stay with Melal, right?"

"I..." He knew that he should offer some comfort, but instead only shook his head. "All we can do is the best we can."

"You're right! I'll heal your arm, and I'll help Melal if I can! We can't give up!"

Somehow his hollow words encouraged Laeri. She left his arm hurting much worse than before, but he could move it without injuring himself. According to her, she would do the rest of the healing in careful stages as they continued their journey. Though Slaten would have preferred an immediate healing, regardless of the consequences, doing her work properly seemed to matter a great deal to her.

The newly smaller group gathered together and prepared to march again after they'd had their fun. To Slaten's surprise, they didn't take the wagons. Instead most of the useful supplies were repackaged into massive bundles which the Bloodskin warriors managed to balance on their backs. Gatoda tore off the most ornate part of the box-like wagon, filled it with unusual items, and hefted it on one shoulder as they returned.

As they began traveling again, Slaten ran over the events in his mind repeatedly. There were no answers and he often found himself remembering the pain on the boy's face as he died. Even the deaths of the soldiers likely meant nothing in the scheme of the overall war.

What could he have done? There were no words that he could have spoken to reach the Bloodskins. If he carried the Legend with him like the Hero, perhaps he could have influenced them, but he was only a man. His meager skills in other arts could not possibly have stopped the raw acts of violence. As before, he had only one thing to offer...

"Now, we head back to the Bloodskin village!" Melal leapt onto a rock ahead of the group and thrust his sword to the east. "We journey to your home, then to Mount Tmil! Onward, into the Legend!"

A chorus of cheers went up from the crowd. As he silently marched on, Slaten gripped the hilt of his sword with his broken arm.

Chapter 7

-

"Text: North of the three Maenhu nations lie frozen frontiers of fascination where even I could travel for only a few years before dire necessity forced me to turn back. There can be found humans who have only two more legs instead of arms, trees that bear fruit of human heads, palaces carved from snowflakes the size of mountains, and far more! Dear reader, please await the second volume of my travels in which I will reveal these mysteries and much and more!

Gloss: The borders of the Maenhu are defined by the Sotunn mountains and where each of the three nations meets the world's northernmost sea, beyond which there is little except in the imagination of Telekrainas. The inhospitable Chilgaan Islands do lie north of Portant and Wahleen, but they did not suit his narratives. Telekrainas was arrested attempting another scam in Nol Ulcense before he could write his second volume and spent the rest of his life attempting to escape from prison."

- excerpt from The Annotated Travels of Telekrainas the Great

-

Below, the camp buzzed with excitement. Above, almost complete silence. Though that was the plan, Celivia still found it unnerving. Her life was unlikely to be at stake during the upcoming battle, but if it failed, all the blame would be placed on her head. She was almost completely new to this region and still struggled to believe she had managed to arrange it.

Of course, as a mere band leader there was no chance that she would be allowed to lead the attempt. Captain Raghin was in charge and he had lieutenants to govern every other aspect of the process. She felt a bit of pride that they seemed to have essentially stuck to her original plan, but beyond that, she had no control.

She wandered around the edges of the lower camp, unsure as to her exact role. In her mind, everything should have been more organized, though she had to admit that she knew nothing about organizing an entire cohort of men. Perhaps she should be glad if it worked at all.

Her confusion was finally interrupted by Lieutenant Tamanin, who marched up to her with an odd expression. "When I sent you out there, Nin, I didn't expect for you to come back with so much trouble."

"I'm sorry, Kaen." She turned fully to him and gave a respectful bow. "I only hoped that we could be rid of the Redbranches once and for all."

"Maybe. Or maybe this will be a debacle that will make Captain Raghin regret giving it his attention, much less so many soldiers. If this fails, it will be your ass on the line, not mine."

Celivia lowered her eyes as if humbled, though she was inwardly pleased. That hadn't been even vaguely part of her plan, but in retrospect she should have anticipated that someone like Lieutenant Tamanin would avoid responsibility. If this plan failed, it would likely ruin her military career. But remaining in a position like this for an extended period of time would ruin her career just as surely.

"That being said..." Having vented his nervousness, Tamanin straightened his uniform and looked over at her. "The reason I'm here is that you need to make sure your band is in order, but you also need to be part of the hammer. We'll begin to move soon, so you should hurry."

"I understand, Kaen. I'll begin immediately."

"I wish you luck, band leader."

With that, he moved away, no doubt to coordinate the other groups. Since he hadn't given an exact time frame, Celivia assumed that she should hurry as he'd said. Her band had set up on one edge of the overall war camp, so she headed toward them.

The fort did not have a substantial number of soldiers by overall standards, and she had seen multiple cohorts arrayed to do battle on Orphos. Still, standing next to an entire cohort preparing was no small thing. Over seven hundred soldiers spoke to one another, sharpened weapons, and fastened on armor. She looked carefully as she walked and didn't see any other women, though she hoped that was a sign that they held higher positions.

Soon she found her band, fully equipped and ready. For several days after their return to the fort, they had been rather surly, then for several days they had been drunk. But it seemed that they had recovered in the time it took her to coordinate with her superiors, because now they sat ready. Splinters scowled and left when she arrived, but the others greeted her.

"Your orders, Kaen?" Ghasfik rose and put a fist to his chest, stiffer than usual. Given that they were beginning a major military operation, that seemed appropriate, so she formally gestured for him to be at ease.

"I've just been told that I won't be able to fight with you in the battle, so these will be my final orders until after we've won. For the most part, your orders will come from a company leader. But my orders are for you to fight cautiously until the hammer arrives."

They nodded at that, and Fijn spoke up. "Where are they going to set up the command tent?"

"The command tent?" She wanted to seem entirely in control, but the question baffled her. Fijn reflected her surprise right back at her.

"You said that you'd be with the other commanders, right?"

"No, I will be fighting with the Catai in the hammer." Celivia had welcomed that order, since she thought it would help to have her band associate her with Catai. To her surprise, the group seemed uncomfortable with the fact, though no one said anything.

Keeping her face neutral, Celivia gestured for Ghasfik to follow her a short distance away, then merely glanced her question at him. He didn't understand immediately, though he eventually caught her meaning. "Kaen Celivia, did you expect to fight with the Catai?"

"I may not have that rank, but why wouldn't I fight with the hammer?"

"It may be that way where you come from, Kaen, but not here." Ghasfik hesitated for a time, but when she gestured at him to speak, he hurried on. "Dangerous positions in combat are sought by those seeking warrior, first class... those who seek to command rarely take such roles, even if they can fight. The fact that you were sent with them was meant to be a reprimand, if not to expose you to risk as a punishment."

"Ah. I understand." And she did see the logic, it was simply irrelevant to her. Earning command promotions was only a stepping stone toward the promotions she truly needed. Better to join the risky part of the fight and learn something than to receive more honor in the command tent.

"Is there anything else, Kaen?"

"No, that will be all. Keep them as safe as you can, Ghasfik."

He simply nodded in response, leaving her to look over her band one last time, then ascend the wooded hills toward the upper camp.

That group was smaller, more disciplined, and far more powerful. Celivia spotted no less than three Towd Catai towering over the others. She recognized a familiar social dynamic, where warriors crowded around them, flattering the Catai in an attempt to draw closer to their own rebirths. Though she felt superior for a moment, Celivia had to admit that many of the warriors possessed strength similar to her own. She still had a long path to tread.

None of them were likely to want to speak to her, so she sought a place to wait without disturbing anyone. As she did, however, she noticed someone out of place. A man with ornate shoulder armor attempting to swallow his head sat at the edge of one clearing, apparently meditating. She frowned and approached him carefully.

As she drew closer, her skin began to tingle, then she felt a familiar sensation as if her flesh was splitting apart. She had long sensed sein in that manner, but it was rare that someone registered to her via the sensation of touch. When she took another step closer, he opened his eyes sharply.

"What do you want?"

"Unless I miss my guess," Celivia said carefully, "you are not one of the local warriors here."

"No. And neither are you." The man rose to his feet smoothly, crossing the distance between them with troubling speed. Fortunately, he also smiled. "My name is Zeriin, and I am here on behalf of the First Northern Legion."

"The one stationed in Wahleen? I thought this was a small operation."

"It is, but nothing of significance has happened here in some time. When there was a request for an operation that might change the balance, even against a small tribe, it attracted attention. Someone noticed that you had come to this region highly commended and thought it was worth investigating."

Celivia did her best not to let any discomfort show in her smile. "I see. I hope that our success meets your expectations."

"There are more dangerous tribes north of the Sotunns, but not many are addressing them. If you survive this, you might be moved. Not a promotion, you understand, but in the north there would be... more significant opportunities."

"Thank you for your attention."

"Oh, don't thank me. I'm here on orders." Zeriin shrugged and gestured northward. "You haven't ever visited the far north of Breilin, have you?"

"No, not yet."

"You will find the mansthein armies there a strange collection of fiefdoms. Zeitai Kreue, powerful though he may be, is not interested in running an organized campaign. That is why all three human nations have persisted for so long."

Though it distracted her from the critical upcoming conflict, inside information about the north was rare enough that Celivia had to focus on it. "Is that why the campaign out here is so disorganized?"

"Exactly so. Regardless of one's formal rank, what matters here is how close they are to the Zeitai and his court in Castle Wahles. All authority filters down from him through lesser circles of influence, until far off matters might as well not exist to him. You are fortunate that some of us from those circles took notice of your... aggressive request."

"And just what circle do you occupy?"

"Not so close. I have strength, but not influence." Zeriin gave an exaggerated sigh. "I am here to ensure the success of this operation, not your personal success. But if I have one word of advice for you, it is that in the north all that matters is who you know. If you seek a Catai rebirth, keep that in mind."

"I will, Kaen. Thank you."

That drew an odd smile from him. "You can thank me with a plan that ends this operation quickly, so that I can get back to civilization." Without another word, he returned to meditating in his place.

She no longer had any control, so Celivia could only hope her plan was executed properly. And that none of the many pieces ruined it. And that it had been a good plan in the first place. All that saved her from descending into worry was the fact that the operation started before she had a chance.

The lower camp set off first, forming a formidable guard around a small set of locked wagons. They contained nothing but rocks for weight, but that was not what had been leaked to local villages allied with the Redbranches. Allegedly important and valuable cargo now made its way directly through the heart of Redbranch territory.

What she hoped was the critical stroke of her plan was that the real bait - the army - was real. A cohort of soldiers without its warriors was a considerable force that few raiders would attack idly. Yet the fact that there were no Catai and only soldiers had been sent out was just arrogant enough to insult the Redbranches. If all went well, they would come in force to take advantage of their enemy's weakness and seize the wagons.

If things went wrong, they would wander through the wilderness for no reason and all the blame would fall on her.

Though it would have been useful to observe the movements from the sky, Celivia instead crawled through a small path staring at bushes and rocks. Occasionally a scout whispered that the main group had advanced to a certain position, but she was completely blind.

Had she been in the command tent, her circumstances would have been exactly the same. If this was what it meant to command an army, she disliked it. Fighting someone in person was a straightforward conflict of wills, one body of sein against another, but this was blind hoping while many soldiers lived or died based on choices made long ago. Yet she could no more stop it than she could stop an avalanche.

They were especially blind because they needed to avoid any detection by Redbranch scouts. By the time they reached their position, she could see nothing at all. Too nervous to talk or fight, Celivia merely waited in place, trying to consider it an exercise of raw willpower.

But when she heard that some were going to watch, she couldn't stop herself.

Their group hid on the other side of a local peak, where they now peered over the edge. Below, the cohort moved through the valley around the wagons. They looked nervous, and Celivia worried that they would be taken as obvious bait, but she told herself that any real group would be worried about moving through raider territory.

Chilling war cries echoed through the valley and Celivia breathed a sigh of relief. Spears rained down on the army and the Redbranches rushed down from the heights in force.

She had expected the strike order to be given almost immediately, yet no one in the upper camp moved. Soldiers were fighting and dying below, yet they waited. They had managed well enough against the spears, since they had been prepared, but as the raiders struck their lines, the humans' superior sein led to rapid casualties. It seemed wasteful to her, but she had to assume that it was a strategic decision.

Then a deep horn sounded and the hammer swept down from the heights.

The Redbranch forces were still turning in confusion when the three Catai smashed into them. Celivia rushed after them as quickly as she could, but she couldn't run straight down a cliff as recklessly, even if she could keep up. That gave her precious moments to see her plan come together from above.

Cheered by the sight of their elites, the main body of soldiers dug in and raised their shields, forming the anvil. The Redbranches tried to fight against the Catai, but broke apart against the incoming hammer. Lacking discipline, they scattered, some of them falling into the main army and being mobbed by soldiers while others scrambled in other directions.

Many spilled out from around the Catai, who had encountered warriors capable of stopping them, but that was when the body of the hammer caught up. She had hoped that they would have enough powerful warriors to execute a maneuver such as the Hammer of Orphos, but it seemed unnecessary. The Redbranches might have been able to fight against the warriors under normal circumstances... resisting while disoriented and fleeing was another matter.

Then she reached the lines herself and all thought of strategy dissolved into pure chaos.

Though Celivia tried to exert every scrap of strength she possessed, the melee was nothing like real combat. She lashed out with her whip against one opponent who caught it with a contemptuous look, but just as she began to prepare for a difficult fight, he was bowled over by a charging Catai. She tried to buy time to get her whip back by stabbing at the nearest raider and was shocked when her strike punched straight into his heart. Once she nearly struck one of her own allies, despite how easy it was to tell mansthein from human.

Celivia had planned her behavior during the battle, but those plans became irrelevant immediately. She treated every brief encounter as if it was her last, gaining whatever advantage she could in those flickering moments. An axe struck her in the back and sent her into the ground, though her skin managed to hold against the attack.

When she struggled back to her feet, she found that the battle was nearly over. Whoever had struck her was already gone. Almost all the humans she saw were either dead, surrounded, or fleeing. According to the plan the mansthein were supposed to stay in formation and pen in the remaining humans, but she saw how that was impossible in the chaos of battle.

For the most part, it didn't matter, but it meant that one Catai was chasing down fleeing warriors while the other two struggled against one of the last Redbranches. The man was truly enormous and absolutely covered in hair. What was most remarkable was that he seemed to be trading blows with one Catai even as he prevented the other from flanking him.

Her instincts told her to enter the battle, but she held herself back. Her true motivation wasn't to help, just to gain glory for herself. She had already done enough, and she saw the corpses of several other warriors around them.

When one of the Catai went down, one arm nearly severed, Celivia reconsidered stepping in. But at that moment Zeriin slid into the battle, stabbing a knife into the Redbranch leader's arm.

The human swung at him, yet Zeriin dropped down without slowing, sliding directly between his opponent's feet. Somehow in the process he left two knives in his opponent's legs.

Though the leader of the raiders displayed stamina that would put many Catai to shame, it didn't matter. Zeriin had already hopped up on the other side of him and put two more knives in his back. Somehow the Redbranch leader managed to keep fighting, even landing several blows on his opponent. Zeriin was clearly fast enough to fight him at his best, much less when weakened and injured.

As the last human fell, the watching soldiers and warriors started up a cheer. All eyes were on Zeriin, yet Celivia found that she wasn't even slightly jealous. She didn't even care much about her plan. Instead, all she felt was a simple relief that the chaos of the battle was over and that she was alive.

"The Redbranches are no more!" One of the Catai jumped up onto the first wagon and roared out the words. "We've destroyed their forces, but we need to tear them out, root and stem. It is time for Captain Zeriin's second command: we march to their village and eliminate these raiders once and for all!"

His words prompted another cheer from all the survivors. This was the first Celivia had heard of a second step to the plan and she wasn't clear on what it would entail. Still, she would assume that it was an improvement to her plan, perhaps eliminating weaker Redbranches who might try to train for revenge. What mattered was that both mansthein and humans in the Sotunn Mountains would be permanently free of the threat.

If the Redbranches were one of the weakest of the clans, however, she understood that the human raiders formed a real threat. Unusually, they seemed capable of fielding a large number of sein-trained warriors. But there would be time to consider all of that later. For the moment, she was still happy that her plan had come through.

Only some time later did she remember to think of her band, which she supposed made her a poor band leader. She discovered them at the edge of the forces that remained, sporting a few injuries but all intact. The amount of time it had taken her to remember them didn't seem to matter: they pumped their fists in the air when they saw her, and cheered when she saluted with a fist to her chest.

"The plan would have been a good one regardless of if it had worked." Zeriin appeared behind her, ghostly quiet. "But since most care only for results, you should be glad the attack was such a great success. I think that you and your band will soon be transferred to Wahleen."

She nodded in response, as if she could truly absorb such a change so easily. North to Wahleen, where warriors far more powerful than her played games of influence. Where a Zeitai had stepped out of the Legend to rule over the fate of mansthein.

- End of Part 1 -

Interlude

Every time Marikia closed her eyes, she saw it again. His body falling to the street, surrounded by agonizing light...

She had known then that watching Annemo die would cut itself into her mind forever, but she had been surprised by what haunted her most. Not the blade driving through his heart, his face going slack as he died, or his body hitting the ground. Each of those lay within her like shards of glass, but they didn't break her over and over again.

It was the sight of her husband's knives falling to the ground and his flames going out. The sein that she had known so intimately, disappearing from the world forever.

And the one who had been responsible...

A painful bite drew Marikia back to the present and her eyes wrenched themselves open. She realized that she had begun to drift off while breastfeeding Antio. She felt a surge of guilt to have neglected him, but she was just so exhausted. It had been more than enough work for two, and now she was alone.

Marikia stroked her son's head gently and mumbled the words of his favorite lullaby. Annemo's favorite lullaby. She could remember so clearly how often he had sung it to Kiriati, guiding her to sleep when Marikia couldn't bear to rise again. Those had been some of the only nights that she slept peacefully instead of succumbing to exhaustion.

Eventually Antio managed to latch on and begin to suckle again. Though she felt a warmth flow through her as he nestled against her chest, the exhaustion of reality followed. His little teeth were so cute, yet so sharp. Marikia was stronger than she had been with her first child, so her nipples no longer cracked painfully, but his tongue still felt like sandpaper against sand.

For a moment she embraced the pain and closed her eyes peacefully. And saw the flames die again.

On that fateful day, she had been so nauseous that she hadn't joined the call to battle. At the time, she hadn't realized that she had been pregnant after so many attempts. She had tracked the days back and realized that it had been the advice of the kind Seinan man who had visited them that finally convinced her to change the herbs she had been taking.

Because of that, her husband had left her with a final fragment of his life. A boy, just as they had wanted for their second child. She hadn't been emotional during her first pregnancy, but during her second, she held her growing stomach many times and wept.

When Antio finished feeding, his eyes began to drift closed. Marikia let her song slowly fade away as she took him to the nest of blankets at the edge of the bed. He fussed again, little fists balling, but she rearranged the blankets around him perfectly, crooning until he fell asleep.

It had always been worth it in those moments, but as her son fell asleep, Marikia remembered that there would be other moments. As much joy as she had found in motherhood, it reminded her of the traditions of Fein Karnak that would have her be nothing but a mother. At times, with so much of her self drained into motherhood, she experienced a dissatisfaction and guilt that she struggled to explain. With her children clinging to her all day, she felt as though her body was no longer truly hers. As if she would never be a sexual woman again, only a mother.

Once, she had stolen a few moments with Annemo and proven herself wrong. Now that he was gone forever, the thought sat dull in her mind. As her body healed, she ached for him.

Marikia caressed the side of her son's head one more time, then left him lying peacefully asleep.

She dropped to the floor of their room and let her weight settle on her hands, then lowered herself to the ground. It was only simple strength conditioning, yet she needed it. Her body felt stronger after the pregnancy, but that strength held a natural clumsiness, not the blade she had forged through her training. But as the vestigial pouches at her sides faded, she could feel her other self returning.

It was growing too easy. She pushed herself upright to balance on her hands, then let herself down until her face nearly touched the floor. Though it would not have been possible without her sein, it responded naturally to the balanced movement. As she pressed herself up again, she realized that she was leaking, but ignored it.

Before their first child, she had been concerned about everything she had heard about children changing her sein. She had discovered that they had been more right than she'd imagined, but that she had been wrong to be afraid. So much of herself had changed in the wash of new emotions and experiences and she had reemerged stronger.

Yet the love and grief she felt now were too gentle. They might strengthen her, but they could not serve as a weapon. For that, she turned to hatred and intentionally took herself back to that vision of dying flames.

When she wasn't filled with sorrow, her soul overflowed with nothing but hatred for those who had taken her husband. The Hero, yes, but he had been an unthinking monster. Annemo would never have been killed if not for the girl.

The girl. Weakening him, removing his knives, distracting him from the threat. The Hero might have been the blade, but the Rhen girl had been the hand holding it. From her helpless vantage point, Marikia had been unable to see the human's face, but she had done nothing as Annemo died. Though Marikia had longed to kill her then, the streets had become a nightmare and she had retreated to protect Kiriati.

Hatred reaching its peak, Marikia sprang back to her feet and grabbed her dueling glaive. She began to trace through her old exercises, making her blade soundless through the air so as not to wake the baby. So much hatred overflowed from her that at times she was shocked that it didn't leak out when she was feeding her son and make him cry.

As if in response, he began to wail only half-way through her exercises. Marikia sighed as she set down her glaive and returned to him, trying to sing him back to sleep. She had thought that after one child, she would have mastered this as she had sein arts, yet the two children had been completely different. Kiriati had wailed like a banshee and struggled with her blankets, but when she finally fell asleep, she would remain that way for precious hours. Antio drifted off easily enough but awoke for no reason at all.

Just as he finally fell asleep, Marikia heard small footsteps outside her door. She managed to throw off her weariness before Kiriati ran into the room. That day she wore a crown of the golden grasses of the Expanse and carried a bean stalk scepter.

"Oma! Oma I-"

"Ssh, Antio is sleeping." Marikia gently put a finger to her lips, but fortunately her son remained asleep. She guided her daughter from the room and closed the door as quietly as possible. Then she bent down and encouraged Kiriati to tell her everything.

As the girl eagerly explained about her day, Marikia could not help but smile sadly. Despite the horror of the battle, the Chorhan Expanse had become more peaceful. Perhaps it was the disappearance of one of the human kings, the death of Aryabaus, or the new negotiations with the Rhen. She tried to tell herself that Annemo's sacrifice had been part of earning that peace, but it rang as a lie even in her own mind.

Whatever the reason, it was now safe for her daughter to travel between their home and the school alone, without fear of humans butchering her. She had shown great promise in her studies and even early signs of understanding her own sein, though Marikia wasn't sure if she wanted their daughter following in their footsteps.

"Can we visit Daddy?" Without warning, Kiriati stopped talking about her day and drove the question into her heart. Somehow Marikia smiled again.

"Of course we can." She took her daughter's hand and led her down the hall to the shrine.

She had been gentle, but she had hidden none of the truth from Kiriati. Given the life the girl faced, and the even more horrible possibility that she would one day lose her mother, the girl needed to harden her teeth. In her childlike way she had understood, but she clung to tradition with a fervor that Marikia never felt.

Yet as she reached the simple shrine, she did feel something stir in her. Even if she knew that the Zeitai were only men who had transcended strength, there was something comforting about the ritual of it. Her daughter picked up the crude wooden statue of Zeitai Teirsan and murmured to it, messages for him to take to their father's spirit. She said that it was because he had a kind face and Marikia chose not to tell her that these statues likely bore no resemblance to the real people.

Allegedly Teirsan was one of the fairest and kindest Zeitai, but her eyes wandered higher, to the Dark Lord behind them. If he existed, he never oppressed anyone, or bickered in council meetings, or amassed wealth. Some were bitter about his absence, but she had always been comforted by the idea of someone standing above all other conflicts.

Above everything, one could be pure. In her case, pure wrath. Marikia closed her eyes and begged for the strength she needed to take revenge.

A small hand touched her arm. "Daddy is worried about you." Kiriati looked up at her with large eyes and Marikia could barely smile back at her.

"Is he now?"

"Yes. He thinks you're too tired and need to sleep." The girl nodded very seriously. "I know that baby Antio keeps crying but can't we think of a way to make him sleep? I can take care of him, really I can."

"Maybe you can." Marikia pulled her daughter to her fiercely and held her close. She squeezed her until the little girl struggled and then released her. In a flash, the girl was cheerful again, skipping back into the house to find one of her toys.

Her mother lingered, reaching behind the statues of the Zeitai to the symbol of the Dark Mother. Some claimed that she had once been a Zeitai, while others believed she was something more. Most Feinans declared her as a female heresy, while to Seinans she was the patron of all women.

Marikia didn't know what the truth was and she didn't care. What mattered to her was not the gentle Dark Mother statue she held, but her other aspect. The first smiled lovingly, but she clearly remembered the other statue deep in the pits, that mouth split open in a bloody grin that promised vengeance. More than any of the others, she honored the Red Mother.

Once Marikia had found her focus, she set the statue back down. She could already hear her son crying again, but once he was asleep, she would return to training. Tired as she was, she would force herself on until she had finished breastfeeding her son and found a safe place for both their children.

Then those dying flames in her memory would kindle into bloody fire.

Part 2

Savage Nobility

Chapter 8

-

"This is not the survey you requested. By the time you read this, copies of this survey will have already been distributed across the Maenhu. Wahleen, Espal, and Portant in equal measure. This detailed information on the raiding clans across the Sotunn Mountains is only possible through the cooperation of scholars across the Maenhu, despite being explicitly forbidden from such. For that reason, we collectively sign this survey with another name."

- Scholars of the Blue Mask

-

It took them longer than Slaten had expected to reach the Bloodskin village, but allegedly it lay past the next valley. The distance itself was not so far, as he estimated it, and the raiders knew how to traverse the mountains easily. Instead of taking a direct path, they made frequent stops to hunt and they detoured to strike another caravan.

Having seen how they behaved, he suspected that they simply ranged over their territory in the hopes of taking advantage of travelers, instead of targeting specific groups. If they ran into a human caravan, they would no doubt attack it just as viciously. In that case, Slaten would hope that Melal would be able to prevent a slaughter, because he knew he couldn't.

At last, their wandering had nearly reached its end. As they had traveled east, the forested mountains had given way to rocky peaks. It seemed to Slaten that trees struggled to grow the higher they climbed. There were still some hardy breeds that clung to the rocks, and the Bloodskins said they had plenty of wood near their village, but higher...

Stopping atop a local peak, Slaten stared out over the mountains, quiet with awe. Seeing the world stretch out before him was familiar on the Chorhan Expanse, but if the horizon here was smaller, there was a greater sense of depth. Looking over the valley, the mountains extended far in either direction. Beyond them, he could see yet higher peaks crowned with ice, extending until the mist claimed them.

"Stop dawdling, Slaten!" Melal appeared beside him with a broad grin. "We're almost there!"

"Almost to their village." Though Slaten hadn't spoken to Melal often during the journey, he realized that they were mostly alone and that they needed to take this chance. "I have been asking about the lay of the land, and they say that Mount Tmil lies much further east. Look at the mountains we can see from here... I don't think we can climb those easily."

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that." Melal folded his arms and stared out past the snowy peaks. "The Sage lives atop a fearsome mountain, surrounded by hostile raider clans. Even if we could sneak past them, that is not the way of the Legend. I was thinking that it would be a waste to leave so many mighty warriors behind."

"Wait, do you mean...?"

"The Bloodskins should fight on the side of humanity in the great battle yet to come. They may not all believe in me yet, but I know they speak of the Legend. Given time, they will all see the truth, and I will forge them into a new army to wield against the Deathspawn."

Almost exactly what Slaten had feared. Yet now, in a moment when words might matter, he struggled to find any. "Are you sure we should delay speaking to the Sage? What if the path he lays out is urgent, or requires us to leave the mountains immediately?"

"This isn't the time for your doubts, Slaten. I can feel that this is the right path. Follow me and trust in the Legend." With that, Melal clapped him on the shoulder and turned away. The Bloodskins had caught up to their position, so there was no more time for discussion in any case. Nothing remained but the final walk to the village.

Animated by thoughts of home, the Bloodskins were unusually boisterous, and they left Slaten completely alone. That suited him well. Though he seemed to have some measure of respect from them, they regarded him awkwardly for reasons he hadn't entirely understood. Better to listen quietly and learn about what they most wanted from home.

The answer was brief: food and women. Slaten tried to keep listening, but there wasn't much substance to their conversation aside from local references that meant nothing to him.

Slaten didn't realize they were close until other Bloodskin warriors came over a ridge. They met in a flurry of violent greetings, the other raiders simply ignoring the lowlanders as they slammed into their comrades. That set off another round of loud conversation, some of it so thickly accented that Slaten had trouble understanding their Coran.

When the newly assembled group went over the same rise, they finally found the Bloodskin village. It squatted rudimentary and crude against the majesty of the mountains. Most of the buildings were formed with rough mud bricks that would have been shameful in a Coran village, with layers of thatch stuck on haphazardly. Slaten tried to avoid judgment and noted that the buildings did look very warm, including heavy doors with the edges lined with some sort of fur.

At the end of the village there was one impressive structure: a massive home built entirely of wood, the top beam still resembling the tree that had been felled to form the backbone. It looked less warm, but shouts and laughter burst from the windows. Currently the two large doors stood open, though from their angle it was difficult to see more than some of the wooden interior.

As they entered, the warriors hurled down their packs near the entrance to the village. A number of men emerged to take the stolen goods. Slaten saw a few greet the returning warriors cheerfully, and one Bloodskin affectionately gripped the head of a young man who might be his son. For the most part, the new men were ignored, and one who got in the way was shoved to the side so hard that he collapsed against the wall of another house.

The village climbed up the side of the hill, so the eye was drawn to the largest building, but Slaten found himself looking back at the other men. Most were younger than the warriors, though not all. His first theory regarding a hierarchy of age seemed to be incorrect. Looking closer, he saw that none of the men in the village appeared to be warriors.

"This way!" Gatoda wrapped his arm around Melal's shoulders and pulled him upward. "We must introduce you to Chief Bufogu in the grand hall!"

They hiked up the central street of the village, passing numerous houses. Slaten looked for markets, stores, or other specialized buildings, but saw only a few storerooms. He hadn't expected a group of raiders to have a thriving community, but he was surprised there were no smithies. Then again, he had noted that their weapons were a strange mixture of styles, so perhaps they stole all their equipment.

So far he had seen no women at all, but when they neared the large hall a small crowd of them emerged. Slaten hesitated, his instincts making his hand wander toward his sword, though that instinct was completely wrong. What troubled him was that unlike the joyous warriors, or even the non-warrior men, most did not look happy to see the returning raiders.

They shuffled forward as a group, many of them taking cloaks or weapons from the warriors. One young woman leapt into the arms of a young warrior, and another Bloodskin pulled a woman into a kiss, grabbing her backside tightly. Overall, however, they looked quiet and withdrawn. Though they wore many ragged layers, similar to the men, they wore darker colors of rougher fabric.

"The two of you, come!" Gatoda stopped before the open doors and gestured for Slaten to join Melal. "You must go before the chief and show yourselves to be men!"

When Slaten stepped forward, Laeri moved with him, trying to grasp Melal's arm. She looked excited but disoriented in the new location, until the moment when Gatoda roughly slapped her hands away.

"No women in the grand hall. Let her go with the others."

"Melal..." Laeri tried to touch his arm again. "I don't know anyone here..."

"Don't worry, Laeri, I'll be fine." Melal turned and gave her a reassuring grin. "Just go with them while I show everyone who I am."

Laeri didn't look happy, but she obeyed, backing into the group of women while still watching them. Though the somber Bloodskin women still gave Slaten the sense that something was wrong, he didn't think Laeri was in any danger. Later he would have to ask her what she thought of the local women, though he found himself wishing he had Tani's insight instead.

Finally they entered the grand hall. Massive as it loomed, the interior was simply furnished: a rough wooden table filled most of the floor, while the walls were covered by a chaotic collection of stolen banners. Above he saw only the rafters, though several Catai skulls had been hung from them as trophies.

Only one man sat at the table, seated on an ornate throne. It was made from a silvery wood with golden trim, by far the finest object Slaten had seen in the village. The man atop it could not have been more different, cast from the same mold as the other raiders, just far larger. His clothes were brilliantly scarlet, and when he stood he revealed a powerful body that was half a head taller than Slaten.

"Gatoda!" The man, presumably Chief Bufogu, spread his arms wide. "I have heard that you sank your teeth into two rich caravans and returned with great riches!"

"Chief Bufogu." Though Gatoda didn't bow, exactly, he lowered his head in the first gesture of deference Slaten had seen among the Bloodskins. "They were hard fought battles, but not so hard as those we fought against our new friends! They may be lowlanders, but hot blood flows in their veins!"

A shove from behind Slaten propelled him forward, just managing to stay on his feet. He ended up beside Melal, who had stepped forward as if expecting to be praised. Both of them stood across the table from Chief Bufogu, whose smile waned as he stared at them.

"And just who are these two, to bring them into our hall?"

"I am the Hero!" Melal stepped forward and started to draw his sword, but before he could finish the movement, Bufogu leapt up onto the table and kicked him in the chest. He went flying back into one of the walls, bringing a gale of laughter from the others.

"We have enough Bloodskins," Bufogu said flatly, glaring down Gatoda. "We don't need any more mouths to feed."

Gatoda grimaced to hide a flinch and stepped forward. "Chief, you should have seen how the two of them fought. They may be what we need to overcome the Deathspawn at the passes."

"We shall see." The Chief of the Bloodskins turned to stare down at Slaten, who tasted blood in his mouth and realized just how overwhelming this opponent would be. "And who are you, lowlander?"

"I am..." Slaten hesitated, drawing a careful breath, "...not the Hero."

To his surprise, that brought laughter from the other warriors. Bufogu did not smile, and it looked as though he contemplated striking out again. Before the chief could decide, Melal clambered back to his feet. Despite the blow he had just taken, his eyes still shone brightly.

"You're strong!" Melal thumped his chest and stepped back up to the table. "But that doesn't change who I am." All eyes fell on him now, many of the warriors murmuring. Chief Bufogu remained unaffected, leaping down from the table to stand in front of the shorter man.

"You're really the Hero? The one destined to destroy all his enemies, steal the greatest of treasures, and extend his clan over the entire world?" Though he spoke with derision, Melal didn't budge.

"Watch and see."

This response got a chorus of approval from the warriors, enough that Bufogu laughed and clapped Melal on the back. But Slaten was watching the Chief's eyes, and the laughter never reached them. The Chief of the Bloodskins might be a brutal fighter, but he was no fool. He had seen that his warriors approved and decided not to cause a confrontation. Far from being taken in by the Hero's light, he saw it as a threat and denied it.

"Prove yourself a man, first, then maybe you can prove yourself a hero." Bufogu turned back toward the table, speaking loudly enough that he recaptured the attention from Melal. "There was meant to be a feast to celebrate your raid, but as you can see, our table lies empty. Where is that worthless boy?"

A man standing several steps away from the crowd of warriors now flinched. He took a step forward and began to say something, though it earned him only a cuff to the face.

"Bring the food and wine, boy! Give the men their due!"

As the man nodded desperately and rushed away, Slaten watched him carefully. Despite the word boy, he was perhaps thirty years old. Combined with all that he had heard, Slaten decided that the Bloodskins treated all those who were untrained as children. That would be difficult in an ordinary society, given how few trained effectively with sein, yet the Bloodskins seemed to have an unusually high number of warriors.

They sat down at the table and groused, as it seemed the food was not ready. Instead Chief Bufogu called for drink, which came in the form of many scattered mugs, from clay to pewter to iron. The trays were carried by women, walking in the great hall despite what had been said earlier. Did they not count?

A woman brought Slaten a clay mug and filled it with wine. He tried to make eye contact with her, but she completely avoided his gaze. The wine itself tasted bitter and unwatered.

That mattered less than the way the chief had reacted to Melal, and even now sparred with him as they spoke. So many were taken in by the Hero, yet not him. The leaders of the Coran resistance had also seemed immune, at least for a time.

Canny though Bufogu might be, Slaten doubted that he had any great wisdom or complex mental arts such as Tani had taught them. His sein seemed to burn with raw strength and nothing else... could that alone resist the Legend? It seemed impossible, though he remembered how easily the Zeitai had killed the Hero when they fought him. The mystery was no closer to being resolved than before. If anything, the Chief seemed armored by his utter certainty in himself, lacking doubts for the Legend to cover over with answers. Despite what he'd learned from Tani, Slaten could never eliminate those weaknesses in himself.

His meandering thoughts were interrupted when Bufogu slammed a large drinking horn down on the table. "Let it be so! If you wish to fight with us, prove yourselves men. You have drawn blood on a raid, but you have not proven yourselves here."

"Fight with you?" Melal drew himself up. "You will fight w-"

"Are you backing down from the challenge?" Bufogu rose as well, again looming over Melal. The shorter man didn't back down, but Slaten could see that he had already been drawn in.

"Never! Show me your little challenge!"

Chief Bufogu grinned, a glint in his eye. "Then let it be so! If the women and children are not ready for us to feast, then let us bring back more food for them. I'm hungry for... knifegale eggs."

A shout went up among the warriors, many of whom rose to their feet or rushed to finish their drinks. Though Slaten didn't understand what exactly the challenge meant, he was still swept up in their movement. The whole group began trampling the ground outside the great hall, letting out shouts similar to their war cries.

Over his shoulder, Slaten noticed several men and women approaching the great hall with trays of food. They saw the group, sighed, and turned around. If the Bloodskins conducted challenges like this on a whim, at least this was normal and not some pretext for execution. A number of younger men from the clan came with them, made to carry bundles of spears.

They marched further than he expected, the warriors chanting and joking with one another. There seemed to be little space for questions, and Slaten suspected that they would be considered weak in any case. Melal marched beside Bufogu, the two of them glaring at each other so consistently that it was almost comical, if not for the violence underneath.

Eventually they reached a strange hill, void of most of the small trees and bushes common to the area. Instead several massive trees jutted upward, their gnarled roots clutching the rocks around them as if they drew strength by crushing stone.

Slaten let his eyes slide from tree to tree, each standing apart, wondering what they had to do with the knifegale eggs. The most likely answer made him glance upward. Though he saw nothing at first, eventually he spotted a large gray hawk perched on a branch, staring down at them. If that was a knifegale, then the challenge was starting to become clear.

"Boys!" Chief Bufogu let out a bellow and struck one of the younger men on the shoulder. "These lowlanders want to become men before you. Will you let that happen?"

The young men let out a wordless shout, though the hatred in their eyes spoke enough. They then began moving out across the hill, still carrying the spears. That suggested that the challenge might be more dangerous than Slaten had expected, but there was no time to watch them, because the Chief was rounding on him, grabbing his shoulder and tugging him from the group.

"I know lowlanders do not know our ways, so I will explain. Boys who wish to eat at our table must prove themselves by running to these great trees, climbing them, and stealing an egg from the nests above. It is an act that proves your blood... and the eggs are good eating."

"And the boys with spears?" Slaten asked. Bufogu glanced at him briefly and just laughed.

"We couldn't make it too easy, could we?"

It seemed there would be no more preparations, the challenge would simply begin. As all the Bloodskin warriors pulled back, Slaten found himself standing alongside Melal at the base of the hill. Ahead of them lay the steep slope filled with armed men, then the trees with the eggs at the top. Allegedly. From what Slaten knew of birds, he did not think they kept eggs throughout the year, and he wasn't confident that the Bloodskins cared about such details.

"One of you, go!" Gatoda called out from behind them, so Slaten looked over at Melal. The other man shrugged, then pushed him forward. Of course Melal would make him go first.

Seeing no alternative, Slaten advanced carefully. One of the men hurled a spear at him almost immediately, but the boy barely understood his sein and Slaten easily stepped aside. As he moved up the hill, most of the others simply watched and waited with their spears ready. Other than one wild throw that sailed over his head, they waited until he reached the tree.

Slaten set his hand on one of the lower branches, but instead of lifting himself up, he drew all his sein into his legs and leapt. He lacked Tani's familiarity with arts of leaping, but he could jump far enough to instead grasp a large branch further up the tree.

Several spears struck the wood below. Now the challenge had begun.

Though he hadn't climbed a tree since he was a child, the bark was thick and it was easy to dig his fingers into it. As he climbed higher, more spears were hurled at him, but he was surprised at how little they threatened him. It would have been easiest and fastest to dodge aside, but he suspected that the Bloodskins would not respect that. So instead he wasted time striking the spears out of the air. As he climbed higher, still untouched, he heard appreciative shouts from the gathered warriors.

By the time he neared the top of the tree, most of the spears fell short. That was fortunate, because the thinning trunk made it more difficult to climb. At least he could see a large nest ahead, hopefully containing an egg.

Just as he reached it, a flurry of gray struck his face. The bird moved with surprising speed, lashing out at his face with its claws. He felt stinging pain... but no blood. His defensive arts might not hold against a direct blow from a weapon, but the knifegale's claws were too weak to cut his flesh.

It was fast and agile, however, even compared to his sein-trained speed. So Slaten simply ignored it as he pulled himself the rest of the way up. There he found the nest, which indeed contained several large eggs, gray with flecks of black. He reached out to grasp one, weathering scratches at his hand, and then began to lower himself back down.

Though it would have been most impressive to drop the rest of the way, Slaten wasn't sure his sein could survive such a fall. Without that support, his legs would definitely snap. The Bloodskins had scorned him enough during the time when his arm had been broken, so he didn't want to see how they would treat him if he broke his legs.

Climbing down with the egg in one hand was slightly more difficult, but not much. When he got closer to the ground, he gripped the egg carefully so it wouldn't break, then dropped the rest of the way. He crouched there, on his guard for more spears.

Instead he heard only cheers from the warriors and curses from the young men. It seemed that the trial was over and he needed only to bring back the egg.

When he walked up and placed it in the hands of Bufogu, he saw a measure of respect in the Chief's eyes. "Perhaps you aren't boys after all. But your friend the mighty hero must prove himself as well."

"You think I can't?" Melal stepped forward onto the hill. "I allowed Slaten to go first to show you that we are men. Now I'll show you that I'm the Hero."

With that declaration, he launched himself forward at a dead sprint. The young men with the spears seemed surprised and only two attempted a throw. They readied themselves as Melal reached the tree... and smashed directly into it.

The impact shook the entire tree, sending several knifegales flapping away. All of the spear throwers shrank back in surprise, unable to move as Melal drew his sword and began hacking at the tree. Each mighty blow shone in the sun, even from a distance, and soon the tree began falling to the side with a thunderous rumble.

Melal rushed along with the falling trunk, then leapt into the air. All the Bloodskin warriors witnessed as he plucked the nest out of the air, several eggs still inside. The ground trembled as the tree shook, but all eyes were on Melal as he landed smoothly, then presented the nest to Chief Bufogu.

"You wanted some eggs?"

The result was uproarious laughter and cheering. Bufogu joined them, though his eyes remained hard. Slaten couldn't find the humor in it. Perhaps Melal's solution was valid, but it struck him as contrary to the challenge. Climbing the tree while defending against spears required a strong practical knowledge of sein, so reaching the top demonstrated the raw strength that all Bloodskin warriors possessed. Knocking down the tree demonstrated strength of a different sort, of course.

Two of the warriors hefted Melal up onto their shoulders and carried him that way as they returned to the village. They moved at a far faster pace, leaving the young men behind. When last Slaten saw them, he saw more than a few glares, though also a troubling number in awe of Melal.

As they ran, Slaten matched pace with Gatoda. "Does that make us Bloodskin men?"

"Not really." Gatoda frowned, for a moment falling from the rapturous celebrations surrounding Melal. "Normally boys retrieve an egg, then kill an enemy, then endure the blood ritual to become men. You have done everything out of order."

"The blood ritual?"

"It is nothing to concern yourselves with." Gatoda shook off the question and just grinned at him. "You have proven that you are not boys and are welcome at our table. Eat! Eat and celebrate!"

When they returned to the village, they were ushered into the great hall, where a feast had now been laid out on the table. Almost all the attention fell on Melal, but Slaten preferred that, as he struggled to match the enthusiasm of the event.

The food was simple, a mix of local game, dark bread, and random delicacies that must have been stolen from caravans. Had Tani been present, he suspected that she could have found joy in it. Certainly the Bloodskins seemed to, eagerly tearing into their food and making toasts. Slaten couldn't find any of that in him.

Instead he merely ate. Not to celebrate, but to prepare.

Chapter 9

-

"Though the Sotunnese raiders refer to themselves as clans, they have no great heritage and in many cases little shared kinship. As near as we can determine, they are a mixture of mercenaries driven out of the Maenhu, peoples from south of the mountains, and those few native inhabitants of the region. Clans vary considerably in size, some possessing villages the size of towns."

- Scholars of the Blue Mask

-

The journey north to Wahleen had been good for Celivia's band, but bad for her personally. She had expected a trial that would temper them, but instead they traveled along a well-defended path that cut directly north. Yet their previous combat seemed to be enough of a base to strengthen the band's ties, and having faced real death they were more vigilant about their nightly guard duty.

Despite the long period of time spent with her band, she had yet to fully relax around them. They might respect her to a limited degree, but Big Ragh still made thoughtless statements, Brifik deferred to Ghasfik instead of her, and Splinters hated her with every fiber of his being.

Combined with the constant threat of human attack, Celivia hadn't been able to train to exhaustion or in any way that might risk injury. Instead she had fully focused on her sein, and though she'd increased her capacity considerably, mere volume would never lead her to a breakthrough. She told herself it might be useful if she applied for a Catai rebirth again, though that presumed that her meetings in the north went well.

"We're almost there!" Krafan appeared from atop the next rise, waving his arms. "Come on, you can see everything from the peak!"

After so long traveling through the mountains, most of her band rushed forward to finally see their destination. Celivia was curious as well, but followed at a more sedate pace. For her, this position was only the first step in a longer journey. Her band might fight from the outpost, but she herself needed to answer the summons to Castle Wahles itself.

When she reached the top of the hill, she did take a moment to stare over the landscape. The mountains had been receding for days, but this was the first time she had been able to look forward and see a stretch of land not ruled by peaks.

At the base of the trail sat a fortress and what appeared to be a small town, but it was of standard mansthein construction and she mostly ignored it. The location bridged the gap between their mountain trail and the beginning of the Santiid river, which traveled north from the mountains before allegedly swerving west into Portant. From her vantage point, it seemed to veer east, and it was hard to match the modest river to the thick line on her map.

Outside the strip of life around the river, she saw nothing but the Sotunn Desert. It swallowed the horizon, Wahleen entirely invisible in the distance. Technically those sands were claimed by Wahleen, but they only cared about rights to the mountain pass and the river. The desert was hostile enough that few traveled the shortest path northeast, instead following the river west and then backtracking to reach Wahleen.

"Is that Sangaad?" Little Ragh asked, pointing down at the fortress. Fijn shot him a mocking look.

"Did you guess that because Sangaad is the only city you know in Wahleen?"

"That's not true! I know Castle Wahles. And, uh, Throne Wahles."

Fijn just rolled his eyes, while Ghasfik spoke up to the band. "Sangaad lies far to the north, near the border. This is a purely mansthein outpost, but it's where we'll most likely be stationed. Unless you've received orders, band leader...?"

"Nothing new." Celivia shook her head, but decided that this was as good a time as any to address her band. "They won't tell me our next assignment until I've spoken with the generals at Castle Wahles. So all of you will remain here until they give me our next task."

"You don't need an aide to go with you?" Krafan asked. Celivia could only shake her head again.

"I'm supposed to go via Voidwalker, and they have harsh limits on how many people they can transport. There aren't many here - this is the southernmost point in Wahleen that they ever travel to."

Big Ragh grabbed Splinters around the shoulders, shaking him good-naturedly. "Yo, Splinters! You reckon you'll run into anyone you know?" The shorter man looked like he wanted to stab Big Ragh, but at least his venom turned away from her for a while.

Huthur blinked at both of them. "What's this about?"

"Splinters here went to Voidwalker training, but he failed out! Guess you couldn't hack it, huh?"

"It's a difficult discipline." Splinters finally extricated himself and stood at a distance, glaring at both of them. Though Celivia felt a touch of pleasure to see the others mock him, she decided that this was not the time to open new wounds.

"I failed out of the Voidwalker training too," she said. "They're selective in who they accept, and even then they graduate less than one in a hundred."

The others nodded as if this was to be understood and Celivia wondered how many of them had even seen a Voidwalker. Splinters' only thanks was to glower at her again, but he never did anything else. Not having pinned her hopes on any change, Celivia headed down the mountain trail toward the outpost.

Though Sotfaal was the closest they'd come to civilization in a long time, it didn't strike her as a particularly welcoming sight. The fortress itself was more of a house for soldiers than a true defensive fortification. It seemed that a small town had grown up around it, but she had visited soldier towns before and had never been comfortable in them. Fortunately, she would not be staying long.

When they reached the outer wall, the guards waved them on through. She barely even needed to show identification: the guards existed to keep out humans, not to interrogate mansthein - after all, who would come this far from civilization if not with the military? It occurred to her that this was a security flaw, as it could be exploited by rival factions or mansthein who ran smuggling operations.

Within the dusty little town, she spent more time examining the inhabitants than the drab buildings. Only mansthein, with not a human in sight, yet their presence wasn't entirely familiar. Most had reddish mottling that was unknown to her, and they wore more armor than standard regulation. Those not in armor wore thick clothes with animal furs sewn into them, and even some of the soldiers had furs as well.

To her surprise, she noted that there were a reasonable number of women, many dressed rather well. Wahleen had no reputation regarding women that she knew of, but she had expected worse. Almost all of them wore brightly colored turbans matching their skin tone, which struck her as unusual. It occurred to her belatedly that they might wear turbans to prevent the sun from burning their heads. She hadn't worried about such things for years, but the light red coloration might be vulnerable to burning.

"Booze!" Big Ragh dropped down to his knees in front of what appeared to be a tavern, dramatically raising his hands to the air. "Praise the Dark Lord, there's booze!"

"On your feet, soldier." Ghasfik struck him with the butt of his spear. "No recreation until we've taken our places here."

"Come on, Ghasfik." Brifik wheedled him from the other side. "We haven't had anything to drink since we ran out... how many days ago was that?"

"That's no excuse for lacking discipline. You want to shame us before the garrison here?"

No one seemed to be paying them much attention, but Celivia decided to cut off the conversation with a simpler observation: "None of you have any money. Unless you keep it together long enough to receive your pay, you can't afford anything."

This argument got their attention immediately and they quickly fell into line. The town sprawled over the hills without any planning, but simple practicality ensured that the path from the entrance to the fortress wasn't very long. At the gate they met further security, including two armored women, who barred their way.

"Name and rank?"

"Band leader Celivia." She gave them a polite nod. "We should be expected."

"You and several other bands." One of the guards gave a lazy shrug as they stood down. "Seems like they're scaling up for something here in the south."

"I was told we'd receive back pay and supplies."

"Aye, head on in and talk to the quartermaster. Oh, but just you and your second. The others will have to remain outside."

"Fine." Celivia turned back and clapped Fijn on the shoulder. "Keep these idiots from drinking each others blood until we come back with their money."

He delivered an unnecessarily sharp salute in response. Celivia turned away and followed the guards into the fortress itself. The interior of Sotfaal fortress proved as unremarkable as she had expected: it must have been built in the early Wahleen campaigns, and the army did solid work, but years of grime and heavy use had rendered all the cramped rooms dingy.

The guards swiftly brought them to a small office, filled with so many partially opened boxes that it was difficult to see if it contained a desk at all. A woman sat doing paperwork on a large box, wearing regulation armor and a dark red turban. When she saw them, she set down her quill and sighed.

"I'm going to tell you the same thing I told the other bands: we don't have enough. The trouble with Portant caused our last shipment to get delayed, and no, they can't bring anything in via Voidwalker. So you'll get what you get, and bitching to me won't do anything."

"Trouble with Portant?" Ghasfik spoke up for her so she could save herself for what mattered. "Humans took a shipment?"

"The Portantese took a shipment." The quartermaster sat back and gave them both a harsh look. "I don't know where you're from, but if you're like the other bands, you came straight in from Orphos. This is Wahleen, and it's not like what you're used to."

"We aren't bringing any demands, we were simply told to come here." Celivia tried to smile as she spoke, without smiling too much. "My name is Celivia. I take it you're the quartermaster for Sotfaal?"

"Name's Fuleen." The other woman sat back, looking slightly less irate. She reached into an apparently random box of wax tablets, but after only a short time found the one she needed. "You're owed pay for eight soldiers, plus a band leader's salary. Unless you lost some on your assignment?"

"We're still a full band."

"Shit. Would have made it easier, because we don't have enough. I'll give you what we set aside for you, you can divide it how you want, and you can argue about the remainder with the damn Zeitai if you want."

Ghasfik cleared his throat. "We should also receive new equipment. Our band started out with minimum equipment and our first assignment in the Sotunn Mountains took a toll."

"Tough. All you're getting is this." Fuleen reached into a different box by her feet and handed Celivia a small square of paper. It was better stock than average, but the text was Reili and nearly illegible to her. "That chit will get you some equipment if you can find someone who has any to spare. Not a full resupply, and certainly not any real Maenhu steel, but it's what we have."

For a time Celivia stared at the paper, wondering if this could be a trick. While it was entirely believable that the outpost's supply chain had partially failed, she could just as easily believe that Fuleen made such claims in order to skim off the top. Quartermasters might be tightly regulated in some legions, but in places like this, they could be highly lucrative positions.

"I will be traveling to Castle Wahles soon," Celivia said as she tucked away the chit. "I'm sure they will be able to smooth over any irregularities there."

"Going all the way north, huh?" Fuleen didn't even blink at the implicit threat, just looked back to her tablet. "Ah, I see it now. I'll need you to stay close and ready. The Voidwalkers come in on top of the fortress, and this is not a popular destination for them, so they don't like to wait. Since you're going to the Zeitai's court, they'll have to, but they won't be happy about it and I'm the one who will have to deal with their shit. Understand me?"

"Am I to understand that they don't come in at regularly scheduled times?"

"It just depends. Now let me sort out what pay you're getting and you can get out of my office until then."

Fuleen took them to one of the supply rooms and ordered the release of funds. To her surprise, Celivia found herself the sudden owner of a small crate of money. It appeared to be entirely silver alloy from Orphos, so she could quickly estimate the value of the crate. Not nearly enough to pay everyone... but she realized that if she omitted her own pay, the numbers came much closer.

"Ghasfik, I'll trust you to distribute this to the men. Divide it evenly among you." As she latched the lid back on the crate, she made eye contact. "You don't need to tell them that I'm not taking my pay, but if anyone complains about not getting enough..."

"I understand, Kaen." Ghasfik nodded and then grunted as he hefted the crate. As they walked out, she found herself wondering just how precisely he would convey her intent. He had been a good second so far, but she couldn't say that she truly knew him. For a moment she considered asking later to find out if he took a larger portion for himself, but decided that she had bigger problems.

Over the next several days, she and her band remained near the fort and waited. Celivia tried to engage Fuleen and some of the others in conversation to learn more about the state of Wahleen, with limited success. The main thing she learned was that mansthein had been living in the nation for much longer than she had thought - multiple generations. There seemed to be some tension between the native population and the new forces under Zeitai Kreue, though that was difficult to parse since no one fully trusted her.

Meanwhile, her band did their best to drink their way through their pay. Most of them visited the local whorehouses and Celivia made certain to respond in no way whatsoever. She did observe one herself and saw that they seemed to treat their workers well enough. A small part of herself considered staying with her band, even considered the effect on her reputation, but the women she saw there looked too tired.

Most of the band stayed close when not drinking or whoring. She noted that Huthur disappeared without explanation on some nights and she guessed that a town the size of Sotfaal likely had arrangements for what he wanted. Though she wanted to ask him out of curiosity, she decided that he would likely not appreciate the attention.

After several days, the men began to occasionally play games or drink with other soldiers. In addition to the garrison itself, it seemed that many soldiers were temporarily stationed until they were assigned, or on leave in between assignments in the mountains. As per usual, discipline did not seem to be anyone's priority.

Not wanting the band to decay without her, Celivia worked with Ghasfik to devise a schedule of drilling and sein training. She wasn't sure if it would be followed, but hoped that it would be better than nothing. Once her trip to the far north was complete, she would likely return to face a truly challenging assignment.

One day she sat just inside the fortress, meditating, when a messenger ran up to her. He panted out something about the Voidwalker, so Celivia hurried to find the narrow stair. It bent around the corner of the fortress to reach a side that had no exterior windows. The stair seemed to exist solely to reach an isolated part of the roof, but there she found an inscribed circle and a weary-looking Voidwalker.

"You're Seinan Celivia?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "Of course you must be. Why the hell would a Seinan woman be here if not for a command assignment?"

"You're the one who will take me to Castle Wahles?" She spoke sharply, not wanting to be drawn into his concerns. He noted it and straightened with a crisp salute.

"That's correct, Kaen. Forgive me, this is my last trip of the day. If you would step near me..."

She did so, closer than she would have normally in case his control weakened. In a flash the world twisted, folding in on her as they leapt across space. The void surrounded them for only a blink before they stood in a room with simple stone walls, empty to absorb the winds that swept out from them.

Her Voidwalker escort immediately headed for the small door, only seeming to remember her as he touched the handle. "I took you into our quarters because it's easier on me, but it's also closer to your destination. You won't go to the castle itself today, but present yourself at the outer gates and they'll tell you what you need to know."

"Thank you, Naen." She gave him a polite nod, since it always paid to be on good terms with the local Voidwalkers, and made her way out.

The transport rooms stood beside the Voidwalker quarters, which was the standard formation. Celivia saw little of note from her glimpses within as she passed... until she spotted a silvery-blue head. She was nearly certain that it was Unila, a woman she had known a very long time ago in Zeitai Teirsan's training program. Though the woman was not part of her closest circle, Celivia would have been interested to speak with her.

She never looked up, however, and Celivia knew that it would be better to focus for now. It sounded as though she might spend ac the settlement around Castle Wahles, so she would have other opportunities. Best to start with a good impression and learn what she could of her assignment.

When she stepped out of the building, the familiar surroundings of military quarters fell away. She realized that she had been expecting Castle Wahles to be similar to the great buildings of Ith Silvaros, or perhaps the squat fortresses of Fein Karnak. Instead, she found something entirely new.

Everything had been paved over with rough cobblestone, leaving no glimpse of the natural world except the occasional small garden. Nearly every building in sight was built from large, heavy stones and rose at least two stories. Though not as high as the mountains she'd just crossed, she felt a sense of vertigo to be immediately surrounded by stone walls with only a smaller glimpse of sky overhead.

As she moved further from the Voidwalker quarters, she did find more open space. A broad circle paved with fine stone was open to the sky, with a fountain in the center. A statue stood with a raised sword that spouted water from the tip, managed by some trick of engineering she didn't know. The figure wore heavy armor and she realized that she couldn't tell if it was mansthein or human.

Everyone she saw wore armor or a formal uniform. If she made eye contact, they nodded with a respectful "Kaen" or "Seinan". Though she knew she had stepped across leagues, this fact brought home to her that she no longer scrabbled at the edges of civilization. Strangely, however, she saw fewer women than back in Sotfaal.

Forcing herself to focus, Celivia asked for directions and headed down a major street toward Castle Wahles proper. Several times she had to step aside for carriages pulled by large beasts that she presumed must be behemoths, though she had only read about them. But soon all thoughts of such minor sights fell away.

Castle Wahles might be a thriving city, but the eponymous castle stood apart from the rest. A great wall separated it, yet the castle rose overhead like a mountain itself. She wasn't sure if it was taller than the greatest buildings in Ith Silvaros, yet knew that it must be much heavier, like a stone fist thrust to the heavens. At the highest points it flew large flags of pure red with no sigil.

She was almost glad that she wasn't going to the castle that day. When she reached the gate, the guard nodded as soon as she gave her name.

"The Voidwalkers informed us of your scheduled arrival, Kaen Celivia. You will be given lodging here in Castle Wahles until the time that your audience can occur. Please avail yourself of what the city has to offer."

"I didn't expect that I would need to wait long." She frowned, trying to see if there was some slight in the guard's words, but he seemed perfectly polite. "Surely it is in the general's best interests to send me on my way quickly?"

"You won't be meeting with the general, Kaen. Your audience must be delayed because the Zeitai is a very busy man."

Chapter 10

-

"Contrary to rumor, the Sotunnese raiders are not so strong that they have adapted to conditions in the mountains. Typically they inhabit rings around the greatest peaks, where they have access to trees and limited terraced farming. They can endure brief journeys through higher elevations, but not survive in such conditions for long. The dangerous exceptions will be listed later in the survey."

- Scholars of the Blue Mask

-

Though their journey through the Sotunn Mountains should have been fraught with tension, evading dangerous raiding clans, none of those threats could overcome monotony. Tani had briefly entertained herself with the improvement of her running over such difficult terrain, yet as she began to master that, her mind was left free to simply contemplate the mountains.

Beside her, Veron ran on tirelessly. It seemed as though there wasn't a thought in her head except to keep moving, though Tani knew that such a thing couldn't be true. There had been less conversation than she had hoped, however, and not because they needed to be silent.

After so long without words, Tani neared the limits of her patience. She waited until they reached a more forested valley, then spoke. "Veron, why are you traveling with us? With your strength, you could do many things... so why follow the Hero?"

"Why are you following him?"

"Don't turn the question back on me. I could give you many answers and you don't want to hear them. I want to understand you better."

Veron eyed her darkly, then shrugged. "Are you sure that there is a reason? You've seen how the Hero draws people to him, whether they like it or not. Maybe I'm just another seinshocked warrior."

"I don't think that's true." Tani stopped speaking as they carefully leapt across a large chasm, though less carefully in Veron's case, then continued on the other side. "When the first Hero died, you stayed, and you seemed to have reasons then. I've wondered if... you might want to be the Hero."

"That would be nice, wouldn't it? The way I see it, the Hero is essentially the greatest bandit the world has ever seen. Ya see, the thing about banditry is that you show up in someone's life and tell them the way it's going to be. Whatever they were doing doesn't matter, you just take what you want and leave them with what you decide. The Hero steals the meanings people place on their lives instead of gold, but it's the same."

It was one of the longest speeches Tani had ever heard Veron give about herself, yet it didn't quite fit. "Maybe you thought that at first, but we've seen several different Heroes. If that was your only reason, I think you would have left. So why are we going to Mount Tmil to be part of the Legend?"

For a time Veron stared at her, then she began to speed up. Tani followed her, mostly able to keep up with the other woman's speed since the mountains limited them. It grew more difficult as Veron proceeded increasingly recklessly, but Tani persisted. Eventually the other woman spoke without looking back.

"I grew up in a little Coran city you'd wouldn't know. Maybe nice for some, but for us it was a shithole. Growing up in a tribe like you did, you don't know what it's like to have nothing. There was a man who would give us work sometimes, but he also beat us. And as he was beating me, he would say, 'Veron, you're never going to be part of the Legend. Someday an obnoxious little girl is going to ask you questions and you're going to answer them honestly.' "

"Veron, if y-"

The older woman grinned back at her. "Proved him wrong, didn't I?"

Tani sighed. "If you didn't want to answer, you could have simply said as much."

"Now, ask yourself, why would I want to do that?"

"I won't ask you such questions, then. But how did you become such a powerful warrior?"

"Oh, that's easy." Veron said it carelessly, yet took some time to continue. "Everyone uses force in the gutters. If you realize you have a talent for real power, you don't ignore it. But as soon as you start beating up people bigger than you, even bigger people come, so you have to figure out what you're doing quick or you'll die."

That had the ring of truth to it, so Tani smiled encouragingly. It didn't seem to matter to Veron. After some silence, Tani decided to risk a different question. "Why haven't you chosen to gain more power, then? Your strength is unbalanced, so y-"

"I could kill you, you little shit."

"That's true, but Veron, you could be much stronger than me if you trained differently. The amount of sein you can bear in a single strike still amazes me, and you're very fast. If you had other arts to support those..."

"That thing I said about bigger people coming to find you? It just keeps happening." Veron slowed to a halt and unhooked a jug from her waist to take a long drink. After she wiped her mouth, she stared down at Tani grimly. "I'm happy where I am, much stronger than you'd expect a bandit to be. If you start getting too strong, then... well, then you run into the real monsters."

"And yet you're following the Hero."

"Aye." Veron took another long drink. "Life is a shitty mess sometimes. By which I mean all of the time."

Tani took a deep breath. "Veron, if the Bloodskin clan had been more welcoming, would y-"

A rock tumbled down a slope overhead and both of them immediately turned toward it, drawing their weapons. Tani heard a muffled curse from above, then a man stepped out from behind a low tree. His face and hair looked similar to the Bloodskins, and he wore similar strips of cloth, yet the dark headband around his head was unfamiliar. Whoever he was, he held a spear, relaxed but prepared to throw.

"We weren't going to confront you until we'd seen more, but... there are too many rocks in these parts." The man seemed to be watching with more caution than arrogance, though Tani noted others in the hills surrounding them. A trap? "But perhaps we can talk. You should know, there are more of us, with spears ready. Keep your hands away from your weapons."

Though not about to let go of any of her knives, Tani did lower her hands. That position would look less aggressive, though she could easily throw her knives underhanded and she thought she could raise her sickle knife in time to deflect a spear. Veron showed no sign that she'd even heard.

"You see," the raider went on, "we don't want to fight you. We do want to rob whatever caravan you're scouting for. If you cooperate, we'll let you go."

"It's just us." Veron answered with great confidence, prompting Tani to look over at her. Surely telling them that they had no support was unwise? But the raider seemed surprised by her tone and lowered his spear a bit more.

"Two women, traveling alone through the Sotunn Mountains?"

"I've seen what the men are like here. The mountains seem to be mostly women anyway."

Something rustled from behind them and Tani turned just in time to see another raider emerge. "You want a man, bitch?" At the last word, he hurled his spear down toward them.

Veron caught it with one hand, then flung it back at him. Only as it struck did Tani realize that she had thrown it with the blunt end first, so it merely knocked the raider over instead of impaling him through the chest. For a moment, everyone was still, several spears glinting from the heights, and Tani prepared to fight. But Veron simply brushed off her hands scornfully.

"So many men concerned about the size of their spears, but so few know how to use them."

To Tani's shock, the leader of the raiders laughed. Several others joined him, and when the one who had been struck leapt back to his feet, one of the others punched him good-naturedly. All around them, spear points lowered significantly. Though Tani was astonished that Veron's brand of diplomacy had worked, she put away her sickle knife, instead keeping one throwing knife hidden by her wrist.

"This one has hot blood in her veins!" The leader jumped down toward them and landed several paces away, leaning on his spear. "If there is no caravan, then what are you doing here? You must know that many clans include powerful warriors. No matter how tough you are, you can't fight them all."

Tani narrowed her eyes at him, hesitant to extend trust. "You believe women can be warriors, then?"

"We all know that some men have cold blood in their veins, so why can't some women burn hot?" The raider shrugged as if he didn't particularly care, but barely looked at her, instead focusing on Veron. "Come now, at least answer my question."

"I was just in Bloodskin territory," Veron said, "but they couldn't understand that. Bit of a hard-headed lot, aren't they?"

It struck Tani as a terrible risk, but most of the raiders laughed in response. Their leader only chuckled. "A strong clan, but stubborn bastards. You now walk between their territory and Earthbreaker hills. We could use a warrior with some stones."

"We might just be interested. Killing boys is getting tedious."

"Ha, you have a man's heart!" When the raider next turned toward Tani, his gaze was not what she expected, but it still made her flinch. "Who's this one, then? Your woman?"

Tani's fingers closed around the handle of her knife. "That is utter-"

"-ly true." Veron interrupted her, cutting Tani off with a hand around her waist. "She's a feisty little thing herself, but we keep warm at night."

Though Tani very nearly stabbed her in the arm, she saw that Veron was actually succeeding. All the raiders had come down from the hills now, and her boisterous attitude was clearly winning them over. So, despite herself, she let herself be pulled against the other woman's side. It was infuriating, but she suspected that to all of them it just looked like she was blushing.

"If you know where the Bloodskins have been," the leader was saying, "then we would pay well for that knowledge. They are almost as large a thorn in our sides as those cursed Earthsmashers."

Veron raised an eyebrow. "That's not you?"

"We are the Earthbreakers! Those arrogant fools stole our name!"

As the group left the path, Tani learned more raiding clan history than she had ever wanted to know. It seemed to her that the Earthbreakers and Earthsmashers had once been one clan, splitting less than a generation ago. Both lay claim to being the original clan, yet even in the words of one side, the conflict sounded like a meaningless mess.

The entire time they spoke, Veron kept toying with her, touching the small of her back or even putting an arm around her waist again when they walked on level ground. Though the playful touches didn't make Tani's stomach churn or dislodge any painful memories, she became progressively more annoyed as it continued.

When they finally came to a halt, Tani hissed at Veron to talk. To her irritation, Veron took that as an opportunity to sweep her off her feet and into the trees, much to the laughter of all the Earthbreaker men. Once they were out of sight, however, Tani was finally free to release her irritation.

"What are you doing, Veron?"

"Come on, Tani, you're a smart girl. If this clan will accept women who act like men, then I'll play the part."

"Have you no pride?"

Veron snorted. "Say that again when you've figured out how to eat or drink pride. All that matters is that this will make things better for me."

"But not for me." Tani folded her arms and did her best to glower despite the other woman's grin. "If you expect to take this deception any further..."

"Calm down. Once we plant the idea in their heads, we can ease off." Veron put a hand against the tree behind Tani, trying to pin her against it, but Tani sidestepped away. "Are you telling me that I'm unattractive, Tani? I'm hurt."

"I don't think you even desire women."

"Now what does that mean?"

Tani frowned at that question. She'd encountered Corans who didn't understand the concept before, but that didn't make it easier to explain. "Everyone has more than one desire within them. Some are stronger and some are weaker, b-"

"Maybe that's how the Rhen see the world. It's always seemed a lot messier to me." Veron raised both her eyebrows suggestively. "So which desires do you carry, Tani?"

"At the moment, none, because you continue acting like a beast!"

"If it bothers you that much, I'll stop teasing. But you have to bear with it for now. Without some support, it won't be possible to survive the mountains."

Though Tani nodded, she found herself asking whether that was actually true.

Chapter 11

-

"Notably, there are a few groups that survive the raiders by living higher yet and possessing little of value. We have determined that they survive in part by raising livestock the likes of which we do not have in the north, but how they survive the winters with so little access to wood is an open question. This would be a worthwhile matter of study, in a more peaceful time."

- Scholars of the Blue Mask

-

Wandering through the mountains carrying a bear, Slaten wondered if he would have believed that this would be his life even a year ago.

Though the Bloodskins unquestionably thought of themselves as raiders, raiding constantly was simply a logical impossibility. As much as they relied on stolen goods, they could feed themselves with hunting. Slaten suspected that what farming the women managed on the weak soil was also essential, though the warriors never acknowledged that.

Since only small groups of scouts had left the village, instead of another raiding party, Slaten was trapped. Though he valued the time to train, he had volunteered to hunt for multiple reasons. It let him exercise without Bloodskins watching him, the journeys taught him the landscape, and it seemed to increase his respect within the clan.

When he returned to the village, he received a few nods from the warriors on guard. There were always several watching, though there seemed to be almost no movement this far into the mountains. Slaten suspected that this choice was not idle, but hadn't determined the reason yet.

Further in, he stood holding his bear corpse until one of the younger men approached him. Though part of Slaten wanted to accept their designation as "boys", his mind refused to accept the title, so he just nodded to the young man.

"Do you know where I should take this?"

"The house in back," the Bloodskin told him, gesturing over his shoulder. "I'll show you. The boys need to skin it, but the women will deal with the meat."

"I haven't seen anyone wearing furs. Do you trade them?"

"Sometimes the women wear them." The scorn in his tone made it clear what he thought of that. "And they make for soft beds. Do you not have one?"

"I only have a few sheets." Melal had been given some sort of private room in the back of the great hall, while Slaten used a partitioned room in one of the smaller buildings. Since the Bloodskins were not exactly social, at least with him, he knew very little about how the others lived their lives.

"Then I'll bring this fur to you once it's prepared. A man should have a good fur."

"Ah... thank you." The young man didn't quite smile, but he grunted and nodded in a way that Slaten interpreted as friendly. Though the younger Bloodskins still felt some anger directed toward him, the fact that Slaten hadn't demanded most of the privileges that warriors of the tribe normally took seemed to have had an effect. At least the villagers no longer scowled when they thought his back was turned.

Reaching the end of the main path, Slaten dropped the bear down between two buildings. Male and female Bloodskins never stayed in the same homes, except for purposes of sex, and they didn't work together either. Several women looked toward the bear, but they waited as the young men came out and began to work on it with knives.

No longer necessary, Slaten wandered toward the village's central street. Running into the bear had been a stroke of good luck, so he was uncertain what he should do for the rest of the day.

His eyes wandered toward the great hall. Melal currently sat at the corner of the table, engaged in some sort of game with a Bloodskin warrior. As far as Slaten could tell, the game involved headbutting each other repeatedly. Most days he found Melal still there, eating and drinking with the other warriors.

And yet Melal's reputation only increased. Slaten didn't even think the Legend could be blamed, at least not entirely. Bloodskin culture valued strength and violence, but they still played a social game where respect among warriors mattered most of all. It reminded him of the social intricacies of Oken culture that had always slipped past him. As simple as the Bloodskin village appeared from the outside, he couldn't effectively play that game.

What cultural game could he play? One based solely on strength, perhaps, but he didn't see how any such society could function.

Just then he spotted Laeri and a group of women moving between buildings. The women spoke to one another in a far more animated fashion than when he had first entered the village, but Laeri shuffled in the middle of them, clearly unhappy. This would be a good chance to speak with her.

When he approached the Bloodskin women moved to evade him, but Laeri hopped forward with a smile. "Hello, Slaten. Are you doing well? Do you need any healing?"

"I'm fine, Laeri. I just wanted to speak with you."

"That would be nice... but I don't think we should do it out here where so many people could see. They might get ideas, you know? Let's go over here..." She led him into a narrow alley between two buildings. That struck Slaten as potentially even more suspicious, but Laeri beamed up at him. "I know that we aren't the best of friends but I'm just happy to talk to someone else. The women here are strange."

"Strange how?"

"That's... hard to say, you know? I think it wouldn't be right to tell men that sort of thing. It took a long time for them to trust me even a little."

Then bringing it up was pointless, but Slaten kept his mouth shut until he'd reconsidered his approach. "I'm concerned about leaving you here alone so often, and if the Bloodskins decide to go raiding, I don't think they'll allow you to join us. Will you be safe here?"

"It isn't so bad. This village is a harsh place, but... Melal said I was his and the warriors all seem to respect him, so I don't think they would try anything. Mostly everyone just leaves me alone."

"What about the men who stay here in the village?"

"The boys?" Laeri shook her head rapidly. "Oh, they'd never! You probably haven't heard, Slaten, but they've told me all kinds of stories. You won't tell the other Bloodskins?"

"Of course I won't."

"Well..." She leaned closer to whisper. "The boys aren't supposed to touch any women, but of course sometimes people fall in love. So things happen behind the warriors' backs when they leave, you know? But the punishment for breaking the rule is losing an arm! They might die and even if they lived they'd probably never become a warrior. The boys here all want that, but without true sein healing it's risky..."

"Hmm." Slaten leaned back against the side of the house and considered. "So the women have it better here than I expected. I should have known not to assume too quickly."

"I wouldn't... it's not exactly like that." Laeri looked around furtively and then stepped closer, even though she was already speaking more than quietly enough. "The warriors do whatever they want, unless someone is already claimed. I... the warriors say that healing is womanly so they won't let me, but the women appreciate my arts. I'm actually able to learn a little by-"

"Laeri, what have you seen?"

She lowered her head and he thought she might not answer, but eventually the words dribbled out. "Bruises. Awful bruises, Slaten. Most warriors with great sein... their instincts make them be gentle with untrained people. But the Bloodskins don't. And some of the injuries... they could only have been done intentionally."

"I see." Slaten closed his eyes and thought futilely. It was the same problem, just in another form. He wasn't naive enough to think that worse things didn't happen elsewhere in the world, but this was the problem in front of him.

"Umm, Slaten... has Melal... taken any women with him?"

"I don't think so."

"Oh, good." Laeri let out a loud sigh of relief. "Some of the women have been talking about you two, and it made me worried that he..."

"So far I've always slept alone." Slaten didn't want to pursue that line of thought anyway. Compared to the rough or tense interactions elsewhere, this was the most interesting conversation he'd had in days, so he hoped to linger with Laeri. "I know the Bloodskins say that women only have 'cold blood' but I find it difficult to believe that their women don't have any sein arts."

Laeri immediately brightened. "Oh, but they do! The warriors don't know and I think in some cases they don't care, but they do! Not fighting arts, but little useful things. And healing, Slaten! It may not be able to take care of injuries like Estronese healing, but it has distinctions, you know?"

"I don't know."

"Well, for example, they almost never lose a mother or a baby in childbirth! It's truly remarkable, better than I've seen even in Estronn. But their understanding is all intuitive and trying to talk to them about sunlight sein is like nonsense to them. I have a theory th-"

"You there!" The voice roared from the side, making them spring apart automatically, though they didn't have far to go. Slaten turned and saw Gatoda standing on the path outside, his arms folded over his chest. "You want it so bad that you have to go after the Hero's woman, is that it?"

"It's not that at all!" Laeri looked as though she wanted to flee, but there was no escape. Afraid that she might end up grabbing him, Slaten just stepped out from between the buildings to face Gatoda. He didn't see any real anger in the older Bloodskin's eyes. If anything, there was a bit of amusement.

"We were discussing our journey here," Slaten said. Gatoda merely chuckled.

"That may be, but you're still a man." Gatoda wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him into the village as he continued speaking. "We can't have you bothering our women, and normally a man of your strength would have one already. I'll arrange something, eh?"

Slaten nodded habitually, as he didn't expect any other response to go well. When he looked over his shoulder, however, he saw Laeri behind him, fiercely shaking her head back and forth.

Arguing with the Bloodskins was usually pointless, so Slaten simply told Gatoda that he wanted to focus on training and left when possible. Troubled by the encounters, he did actually leave to train, finding a quiet corner of the village and sitting down to meditate.

Though he kept his sein flowing within him, his mind wandered. He had been observing the Bloodskin warriors closely during his time in the village, trying to determine the secret of their strength. Though their training was nothing like any Oken path, it was wrong to think that they didn't train. Men fought one another in jest and tested their strength against stones. There was also a common tendency to flex that he had first thought was arrogant and now suspected was a physical technique.

Recognizing it was one thing, duplicating it another. He thought he had a basic understanding of how their sein flowed: it was just a raw gush of power. That had little to teach him, so he simply focused on unlocking more of the sein already within him. Their physical strength, in particular their unnatural endurance, was nearly impossible to decipher from the outside.

As far as he could tell, the young men of the village weren't formally trained, so he wasn't sure how they became warriors. Slaten fell back into memories of them... and to his surprise something new leapt out at him. He had seen one of the warriors taking his son out into the wilderness, and they had returned exhausted. At the time he had assumed they were hunting, but perhaps warriors trained their kin individually.

Even though the knowledge did him little good, improving his understanding of the village lightened Slaten's mood. He realized that a surprising amount of time had passed while he was meditating, the sun already impaling itself on the surrounding mountain peaks. Not many remained out in the village, so he had a quiet walk back to his partition his assigned room.

A woman sat waiting for him.

Slaten stared down at her. She stared back at him. As his mind started to engage he realized that she was vaguely familiar, one of the women who worked near Laeri, though he couldn't remember her name or role. Instead of the usual panoply of cloths, she wore only a dark robe that didn't fully cover her legs.

"Gatoda sent you?" he asked. She nodded but said nothing, dark eyes watching him carefully. "What's your name?"

"Bihuna." Her voice was quiet. Resigned. At that moment Slaten thought of Laeri shaking her head and realized that it couldn't happen.

"Well, Bihuna... I didn't ask for this. I just want to sleep."

"Do I displease you?"

"I would not say you displease me, I..." Slaten rubbed his eyes roughly and realized he was still blocking the door. When he shifted to the side, she didn't move, only watched him.

"You don't want this?"

The truth was that he did. In his youth Slaten had realized that his desires didn't burn as hot as some young men, but they still existed. He was uncomfortably aware of the curves of Bihuna's body and the fact that she was in his room for one purpose only. Compared to the Bloodskin warriors who left bruises, even selfishly using her would be gentle. She might even be grateful.

What stopped him was not any moral stance. Instead he found himself thinking back to an old memory, a former Hero leaving with his arms around two women. In some dark corner of his mind, Slaten knew that he would refuse because accepting was what Efeinas would have done. He couldn't claim any morality but spite.

"Thank you, but I wish to sleep alone." He gestured to the door, and to his surprise Bihuna's eyes hardened.

"If you send me away, Laeri will need to tend to me tomorrow."

Slaten winced, the thought killing his desire and leaving only frustration. He latched the door and then sat down on the opposite side of the blanket. "Then stay, just leave me alone."

Normally he removed more of his clothes to sleep comfortably, but he refused to do so with her in the room. After throwing aside his sword and boots, Slaten lay down on his side and pulled one blanket over himself. She could take the other one and ignore him.

He heard her lay down, but doubted she was asleep. Certainly he wasn't, far too aware of her presence in the small room. As if to mock him, from one of the other partitioned sections of the same room he began hearing a man grunting and a woman moaning. The moans sounded like pleasure, but they were close enough to pain that he found himself twisting the blanket tightly in one fist.

Once Bihuna reached out toward his back, but he flinched away. Slaten never grew drowsy, he merely fell into unconsciousness.

~ ~ ~

Each time Slaten struck the cliff with his fist, his sein recoiled on himself and lines of blood formed all over his body. He was pushing himself too far, but he didn't care. Returning to Celivia's training exercise provided him with a rush of pain that let him release at least some of his frustration.

When his body was covered in blood, he forced himself to stop. It wasn't enough. Slaten picked up his sword and began practicing his finely honed slash and thrust. The familiar movements soothed slightly, but only for a time.

He'd woken up several times the previous night, his body always twisted into knots. Several times he had heard Bihuna in the room, then eventually her absence. At that time he could see the morning light through the crack in the door, and the chill it let in made his room even less comfortable than before. His eyes were orbs of sand and he felt as though he hadn't slept at all, but he made himself get up and left the Bloodskin village as soon as possible.

Now he trained mindlessly, or at least wished he could be mindless instead of stewing over his thoughts. If he had someone else to talk to, he might have been able to sort through them. Tani would have been helpful, but he found himself thinking of Celivia instead, as little sense as that made. Given what she had implied about mansthein women, she might have had an opinion.

His thoughts refused to remain there. If Celivia had been in his room, it wouldn't have been because she had been forced. Her skin would have ached with the same lines of blood, but he'd gently run his hands over them...

Slaten's blade failed to stop short, instead hacking off a chunk of rock.

That brought him out of his training trance. He pulled his sword back, examining the edge. The sein within him allowed his sword to cut rock, but it did not transform the steel into some mystical material that was impervious to reckless use. Though the damage to the edge wasn't as bad as he expected, it would be difficult to repair.

He felt more than heard someone approaching his position. The Bloodskin warriors ran quietly, but after time in the village, Slaten had begun to recognize their movements. Still, he only turned just in time to see a warrior emerge in the clearing where he trained.

"What are you doing, lowlander?"

Slaten recognized the man, a warrior named Denugo. He was an important figure in the clan: beneath Chief Bufogu, but one of three warriors roughly equal to Gatoda. It was always easy to recognize him because he wore a bright purple belt and gauntlets shaped like birds. At the moment he also wore a glower, only briefly put off by the slight of Slaten covered in blood.

"Bihuna isn't good enough for you? What's wrong with my sister?"

That had not been what he expected, so Slaten at first only blinked at the Bloodskin man. Denugo did not seem inclined to wait, however, taking an aggressive step forward.

"What game are you playing here? Do you think you're better than us?"

"This is a misunderstanding." Slaten wished that he could put away his sword, but he had left the sheath on the ground with his mantle, so he just held it downward. "I wanted to be alone, so I told her to simply sleep."

Denugo's glower slid into a sneer. "Bihuna said you were weak."

All Slaten could do was stare back, his understanding of the situation suddenly flipping over itself. All the frustration that he had thought he worked out came boiling back up, joining a new anger. He had suffered to do the right thing, but to have it thrown back in his face...

"Are all lowlanders such pathetic boys? Would you know what to do wi-"

Slaten swung at him with all his strength.

His sword screeched against the other man's armored gauntlet, the edge only a hand-span from his face. Though Denugo was more than fast enough to deflect such a strike, he looked shocked that he had been attacked at all. Slaten was almost as surprised. He had struck to kill, the violence surging out of him without any conscious thought.

Then Denugo let out a chuckle. He pushed aside the blade and laughed as if the strike had been a joke instead of attempted murder. Slaten drew back, staying on his guard in case the Bloodskin man decided to kill him after all. Victory might be impossible, but he could defend or escape even if outmatched.

"You are a strange man, lowlander." Denugo shook his head, still chuckling slightly. "Your blood burns both hot and cold. Perhaps you have drawn cold blood from women after all, to be so strange. Maybe a strange man prefers a strange woman?"

"That..." The unexpected turn left Slaten unsure what to say, and Denugo had already made his decision.

"Tonight we will send Natala instead. Maybe she will be the woman for you. Or maybe it will be punishment for rejecting Bihuna!" Denugo laughed and bounded away, leaving Slaten standing in the clearing with his sword still in hand.

Just what awaited him now?

As he returned to training, Slaten strongly considered not returning to the village. Let them try to interpret that. But he immediately realized that he would be retreating from the conflict instead of advancing. Clearly, by refusing to participate in Bloodskin culture, he made himself a target. Given their violent hierarchy, that could prove fatal, and it would certainly prevent him from serving as any kind of check on Melal's behavior.

He wasn't sure if he had done the right thing with Bihuna. Certainly it had been right according to Laeri, and he wanted no one who did not want him. The troubling thing was that he was certain there had been hints of fear and anger in Bihuna's attitude. Her turning on him had been the last thing he expected, but perhaps she contained her own contradictions he could never understand.

Once he finished training, he returned to the village to eat his fill and rest, just in case the conflict somehow devolved into another fight. He thought that he would ask about this "Natala" when he received food, but the serving woman rushed away before he could ask. When he searched for Laeri, he found that she slept within the women's compound, where he wasn't permitted to go.

So, at the end of the day, he found himself returning to his room with no idea what he would find.

The woman, presumably Natala, waited for him from one corner of his partition. Physically she was similar to the other Bloodskins, dark hair falling over pale skin. Yet there was something different in her posture and in the way she regarded him. Denugo had implied that the other Bloodskin warriors disliked her... perhaps that was a positive indicator.

"You don't really want to join the Bloodskin clan, do you?" She had a soft, silky voice with a striking amount of confidence compared to the other Bloodskin women he'd met. Her question was an unusual start to the conversation, simultaneously disarming his immediate concerns and setting him on edge.

"I... mean no disrespect to your people."

To his surprise, she laughed. "I wasn't offended. But many of us wonder: you fight like a man and hunt like a man, but do you not want to be a man?"

Slaten tilted his head to the side as he examined her. "In this village, those words have a great deal more weight than I give them. In my home, a man is simply what I am, regardless of what I do. Whether or not someone can fight, whether they are weak or strong... it really doesn't matter."

"You really don't care, do you?" Her eyes widened, then her smile broadened. Natala shifted back against the wall and patted the blanket on the floor. "Come and sit. I would like to speak to you."

"I admit, this is not what I expected." Slaten removed his sword and set it nearby before he sat down opposite her. "You don't seem afraid of me."

"To tell you the truth, I asked Laeri about you before I came here. The others have asked her many questions, of course, but they can only see within the bounds of the village. I tried to ask better questions."

He found himself smiling. "The more I travel, the more questions I ask. I admit, I wanted to ask about you, but I didn't get a chance. Denugo implied that sending you would be a punishment."

Natala laughed freely, though too softly to penetrate the thin partition walls. "You have seen what kind of women our men prefer. I find that I cannot stop asking questions, no matter how many times they punish me for it. Soon they grew so tired of me that even hurting me grew dull, and now I am mostly left alone."

"Well, I don't mind questions. Please, ask freely."

"Why didn't you fuck Bihuna?"

The question came so quickly and directly that it took him off guard. Slaten stared back at Natala, though the woman was maddeningly difficult to read. He thought that her casual posture was slightly affected, hiding real concerns. Given how she had spoken... "That is difficult to explain."

"Where you come from, men do not act as the Bloodskins do?"

"Some do. Not most. Young men and women are given partners chosen by their families, though many disobey the customs and find one another in secret before then. They would all be just as surprised by your village as your people are surprised by me."

As he spoke, Natala leaned forward, her eyes alight. "I have never traveled further than the nearest trading point, but I had wondered if such was the case. From what we have seen of other clans, it seemed to me that some facts change while others are true for everyone."

"The more I travel, the smaller I feel the second category is."

"As much as I would like to ask you more questions, I am afraid others are rather more necessary." She settled back, again watching him, caution in her dark brown eyes. "Do you intend to make use of me?"

Such cold phrasing answered that question for him, so Slaten closed his eyes as he spoke. "Only if you want me, and I do not believe that you do. But I understand that you would be punished if you were thrown out, and the warriors will cause trouble for me if I do not play their games."

"You propose something else?"

"Stay the night and let them think what they want. Say whatever is needed for you to return again. Then I can avoid their gaze and you need not sleep with anyone if you do not wish it."

Natala tilted her head to the side, her hair partially over her face. The eye he could see watched him quietly for a time, then he saw a subtle smile play across her lips. "Then it is agreed, Slaten. My people seal agreements with food, drink, and women. I do not think that will work here."

"For mine, an agreement can be sealed simply by clasping wrists." Slaten extended a hand toward her and was glad that she did not flinch. She first tried to take his hand, but when he shifted to wrap his fingers around her wrist, she understood and mirrored the movement.

Her skin felt very smooth. All of him was aware of the slender curve of her arm. Slaten pulled his hand away as quickly as possible without seeming abrupt. Meanwhile, Natala didn't seem to notice his tension, instead leaning back against the wall with a relaxed smile.

"I will say little, but enough that you will be respected as a Bloodskin man. This is a better resolution than I had imagined when I came here tonight. The others had suspected that you might not be interested in women, which would not be good for your reputation here."

"Such men are hated?"

"A hatred born of fear, I think. I believe you have come to understand that our world is a cliff, with nothing between the ground above and the ground below. One side fights and the other side fears. On the furs, one side gives and the other receives. If a man enters another man, he threatens to cast him off the side of that cliff."

Slaten frowned at the unfamiliar thought. "Are you sure of this? I find it difficult to imagine Denugo speaking those words."

"It is a conclusion of my own, not something I was told." Natala gave him a sly smile. "We are not as ignorant as we might appear, Slaten. While the men are off raiding, the women and boys sometimes meet with other villages at trading points. We also trade stories. There are other tribes, like the Earthsmashers, where they freely acknowledge that some men prefer other men. Those they fuck are forever boys, of course, and that is something the Bloodskin clan would not accept."

"I see." Slaten sat back and examined her again, understanding why Natala had a bad reputation in the village.

"You said I was allowed to ask any question?"

"Of course."

"What do you want?" Natala leaned forward, eyes fixed on his. "I do not mean at this moment or this year. If you had all the power in the world, what would you possess?"

"That is... a difficult question."

"I don't believe that it is. Bloodskin women would want a gentle partner, many children, and a prosperous village. Bloodskin men want as much wealth and respect as they can get, assuming women come along with that. Do not all desires come to such things in the end?"

"I'm not sure that all of them do." Slaten sat back and stared toward the ceiling. "Tani - one of our traveling companions who took another path - has always wanted more. She seeks peace, between humans and with the Deathspawn. If she has a selfish desire, I think it is to be an example to others of the virtues she believes in."

"Do you agree with her?"

"I think they are beautiful ideals, and I admire that she can seek them so purely."

Natala smiled in wonderment, though something in her expression struck him as strange. "I have never considered such things, Slaten. I do not know if such ideals are possible, but I hope that they are. But you haven't answered my question... what is it that you want?"

"I don't know." He stared upward for a time, but Natala did not rush to fill the silence, so eventually he found himself speaking again. "I think I might be as simple as your warriors. In the end, I want companions I respect, a partner I love, and freedom to pursue what I desire. The trouble is that I could never be at peace while the world is under threat."

That was not even close to the true problem: the fact that his vision of the future didn't include him doing anything. He knew he would never be content to sit in a village hall, suck his gums, and gossip like many Oken elders. Yet he could not imagine himself becoming a potter, a smith, or a baker. An ever-widening gap yawned in the heart of his future.

"That is a lovely vision, but..." Natala's smile faded to a somber mask. "You cannot rest because you still seek something. You want to help the Hero take his place in the Legend."

"I..." For the first time, Slaten felt a gap between them as well. Natala watched him curiously before speaking again.

"We tell of the Legend here as well, though I wonder if it is the same story all over the world. In our village, the Hero is the greatest of Bloodskin warriors, defeating the greatest of enemies and claiming everything for himself. From what you have said, I imagine that distant lands tell different stories."

"Different, but no less terrible." The words escaped him before he could reconsider, but Natala merely absorbed his statement quietly. Slaten knew that he should say something to prevent the conversation from tumbling further, yet found he had no words.

"Are we going to talk every night?" Natala clapped her hands together as if to banish the previous conversations. "I don't mind, but I hoped that we might try something else. You may have seen the men play a game on a strange spiraling board, and I have always wanted to play."

"I don't believe I've seen it."

"Truly? I suppose many of them prefer to fight and drink. But I know that Patule and some of the other warriors do play on some nights. There is a wooden board with a number of pieces. Please try to bring a set back, if you can."

For the first time that night, Slaten truly smiled. "I'll see if I can do that."

Much later that night, they slept in the furs, not touching one another. Natala smiled at him one last time before she turned on her side and went to sleep. He soon followed her and slept like the dead.

Chapter 12

-

"We will leave questions of the raiding clans' military capacity to the concluding section, research conducted along with errants. For now, we will merely note matters of organization. Though it is dull to say that raiders have no respect, we can support that statement by confirming that they do not carry out any formal challenges and seem to have no compunctions about ambushes, unequal battles, or betrayals."

- Scholars of the Blue Mask

-

Despite her better judgment, Tani had come to know the Earthbreaker clan somewhat better as they traveled. Though it was true that they might not be as frustrating as the Bloodskins, that did not make them easy for her to stomach. They accepted Veron, who was happy to drink and squabble with them every night, but Tani had no place in their clan and thus was generally ignored.

At the head of the group, Veron and the leader of the Earthbreaker band mocked each other good-naturedly. Tani had reluctantly learned that the man was named Guyuru and that he was one of the foremost men in their clan. She far preferred Nelee villages, where many masters were esteemed for many different capacities, but it seemed the raider clans preferred to divide their warriors into ranks based on pure strength.

Though Tani retained constant awareness of the location of all the raiders around her, after several days she had accepted that the alliance was likely to hold. That awareness made her extremely conscious of the raider moving up behind her and she kept a knife in her palm.

"Ah, hello." His voice was surprisingly high-pitched, and when she turned to him she found a gangly young man with only wisps of a beard. Given his clear nervousness, Tani reeled in her hostile expression.

"What is it?"

"My name's Yebawo." He waited expectantly, eyes on her.

"I am Tani of the Nelee."

"Oh. I'm... of the Earthbreaker clan. But you already know that."

Since he had done nothing but furtively glance over her face, Tani decided that she might as well take a more friendly approach and gave him a smile. "Can I help you with something, Yebawo?"

"I wanted to ask you some questions. Is it true that outside the mountains, there are many women whose blood runs hot?"

"You could say that." Tani glanced toward Veron, wondering what tales she'd already spun. The assumptions in his question irritated her, but she didn't want to start a true confrontation, so she turned to a milder route. "You should know that elsewhere, we do not speak of power in the way you do. Our understanding of sein is rather different."

"Are hot-blooded women interested only in cold women? Or men as well?"

Tani looked more carefully and noticed how Yebawo stared at Veron as she walked ahead of them. So this had never been about her, or truly about questions. He was only interested in Veron, and Tani could understand why some men would be, though the bandit's constant irreverence turned aside Tani's interest. In any case, this actually made Yebawo less frustrating for her.

"That question," Tani said carefully, "is one better suited for Veron."

"But she's so... so strong, and..." Yebawo shook his head as if he couldn't understand it. "I've never seen anyone like her. She might be as strong as Guyuru. Probably not as strong as the Chief, but I'd like to see them fight. If she joined us, the Earthbreaker clan could grow so much..."

"Tell me, Yebawo, what exactly does your clan want?"

Over the course of the afternoon, Tani learned as much as she could from the young raider. It seemed that the clans had some agriculture and trade but were heavily dependent on stealing goods from merchants passing through the caravans. Each held a territory that was less exact ground than fragments of different passes.

Despite their bravado, she realized that the raiders lived in fear. If they camped at one pass and captured every merchant, they would incite retaliation that would overwhelm them, though Yebawo was unclear on the exact form. Yet if they did not take enough, their lives would slowly fall apart. At any moment they could be overrun by a more powerful clan, or encounter a merchant who had been able to hire a truly powerful warrior.

Perhaps their bluster was because of their fear, not despite it.

Yebawo himself she struggled to classify due to his simplicity. By most standards, she might consider him a good man. He wanted respect from his people and to bring honor to his clan. Yes, he was preoccupied with finding sexual partners, but his desires seemed harmless and Tani would never judge someone for such.

Yet he was a raider. His stories brushed past untrained people as if they did not matter, yet she discerned that he had killed at least one unarmed merchant and thought nothing of it. Though he was not violent by nature, she worried that the other raiders would lead him to satisfy his desires by force. She found it easy to smile at this Yebawo, yet she wondered how she would feel about the Yebawo of ten years in the future.

If he had been born Nelee, he would have been no different from many other young men she knew. Yet he had not, and he would take a different path without being a different person. This led her to hesitate every time she thought of him as a brutish raider, true though it might be.

Though he seemed deeply incurious about the world beyond his own desires, and knew little that would be useful to her, Yebawo attached himself to her for many days. He tried to pry information about Veron from her and she resisted, leading him to believe that some sort of jealousy was at play. That frustrated her, yet she considered it an acceptable frustration, at least for the time.

One day he spent so much time ogling Veron that she couldn't take it anymore. Anything to shift his thinking elsewhere. "Yebawo, why is your clan called the Earthbreakers?"

"Oh, because of our Fist of Earthbreaking." He struck a fist into a palm and grinned. It was not the most creative name, but she could accept that discussion over many others.

"This is a sein art of your clan? Or... a skill that uses hot blood?"

"I'll not reveal the secrets to you, but yes. Chief and the others can shatter a boulder with a single blow. I cannot yet perform such feats, but I can strike with the Fist of Earthbreaking." Yebawo swelled up with pride. "I am one of the youngest men ever to gain the Fist."

"Then you must be important in your clan?"

"That is... not so. I was just a boy not so long ago and many of the men do not respect me. If we could raid the right caravans, I could prove my worth, but fate has turned itself against me."

"What d-" Tani cut off as she smelled mint. Though not as strong as many moments in her life, it clouded around her in a strange way. She'd only just drawn her sickle knife when several raiders rushed back along the line, panic clear in their eyes.

"Run! Stormpeaks!" Those were all the words she captured before Veron sprinted after them, her sword at her side.

"Stop panicking, idiots! They're herding us!" Veron stopped shouting, ignored, and instead hissed to Tani. "Stronger clan ambushing us. Only good way out is jumping northeast, but I don't know how many can. Get there, I'll bring whoever will listen."

Trusting Veron in this, Tani immediately rushed northeast. The ground was rough, but she easily leapt over the crags. Yebawo managed to keep up with her, though he seemed to leap with brute force alone and struggled with the more difficult jumps.

Behind her, she heard only shouting and panic, little combat. Until a scream of pain that went abruptly silent.

Despite the danger, she found herself thinking about how the raiders so regularly slipped into ambush positions. Given how the Earthbreakers themselves had been ambushed, it seemed they had no defense against the technique, so perhaps it was merely a result of their "hot blood" perspective of sein. She needed a better understanding of her tribe's sensory techniques, though those had long been neglected in favor of her combat skills.

Eventually they reached a sheer cliff wall. Tani did not know the capabilities of these Stormpeak raiders, but she would hope that reaching the top would provide some defense. She could jump, however...

"Do you need me to carry you up?" Yebawo asked. She was momentarily startled, then simply shook her head.

"Thank you, but I can jump. You should start climbing."

That made him frown, but after a worried look back, he did start the climb. Tani attempted to set the danger out of mind to make the leap.

For the most part, she had drawn the art of the Soaring Feet into herself. She leapt as naturally as she breathed, the complex flow of sein through her legs having long ago become second nature. This cliff, however, was much taller than she normally leapt and required a nearly vertical jump.

As she gathered up the sein, drawing the sky down to her, she found her flow faltering. For so long, her view of the sky had been fixed as the endless horizon of the Chorhan Expanse. Here in the mountains, the sky meant something different, and she had slowly absorbed that awareness into herself. She took a deep breath, trying to encompass both her old understanding and the sight of the sky from atop a mountain...

When she leapt, she was startled to find that she cleared the top by several paces and landed hard. Though she hadn't found a new sense for her sein, her understanding had deepened. That would be something to explore, when she was not in imminent danger.

"I'll keep watch," she called down to Yebawo, "but hurry."

"How did you..." He stared up the cliff at her, having only climbed about his own height and struggling with the sheer surface.

"Don't talk, hurry!" Her eyes moved past him, to the forest below, where she saw several movements but no clear battles.

Then two warriors burst from the trees toward the cliff. Instead of mint, Tani felt them as great weights, as if twin mountains rushed toward her. Their overwhelming power made her panic and she hurled three knives toward the first of them.

No, only two. The last slipped from her hand, falling past her absent smallest finger. Her old combat instincts returned in the moments when she most needed to remember what she had lost.

Both of her knives were deflected by one of the Stormpeak raiders. Since her surprise attack had failed, Tani could not help but analyze them more carefully. Both looked similar to the other clans, though they wore dark blue cloths. What struck her most was that one of them was a woman, running alongside her companion without any sign of being viewed as lesser.

Tani found herself stepping closer, wondering what she should believe of the many tales she had been told of the Stormpeaks. But at that moment, the man moved.

He hurled a thin rope with some sort of spike Tani couldn't glimpse before it dug itself into Yebawo's back. The young Earthbreaker cried out and almost fell even before his opponent jerked him off the side of the cliff as if flicking an insect. When he crashed to the ground, Yebawo struggled to his knees.

"Please! Please d-don't... don't kill me..."

Tani stepped closer to the edge of the cliff. She'd picked up her fallen blade and drawn her sickle knife, yet she hoped that she wouldn't have to use them. "Are you the Stormpeaks?" she asked. Both of them shifted to look at her without speaking, the man eyeing the cliff as if considering how to scale it. "Do we need to be enemies? We are-"

"Weak." The Stormpeak woman grinned broadly, revealing that something had stained her teeth bright blue. Then she moved.

In a step as quick as any warrior Tani had ever seen, the woman crossed the distance to Yebawo. Jagged metal claws had been mounted around each of her arms and one of these now stabbed deep into Yebawo's stomach. He let out a cry of pain as she effortlessly raised him overhead with strength born of terrifyingly deep sein.

Then the Stormpeak raider stabbed her other claw into his stomach and wrenched both, creating a cascade of blood over her. Through the blood, her teeth still gleamed blue.

Tani fled. Later she told herself that it was a logical retreat, since there was nothing she could do to help Yebawo and the Stormpeaks would no doubt have arts that could take them to the top of the cliff. She thought she heard them chasing her, but she had too much of a head start and found a hiding spot within a hollow tree.

Though she should have feared for her own life, she found herself thinking of Yebawo. His Fist of Earthbreaking hadn't helped him in the end and whatever he might have become had been snuffed out.

As she waited, Tani tried to focus fully on her senses and join the mountain forests. Though she had grasped the basics of the art, she wasn't confident in her ability to blend into this unfamiliar place. Even if she had grown up in the mountains, she would not be confident that her feeble camouflage would stand against the Stormpeaks.

Against her will, her mind wandered back to Master Balunel. The strange old man had been a wonderful teacher to her, with a clever subtlety that had worked within her own arts. If he was here, no doubt he could have given her a trick to hide herself... yet he had died in battle while she fled, just like Yebawo. What was the point of being a warrior if she couldn't defend what was good and true?

Her inability to see began to grate on her. Tani cautiously opened her pack and slipped out the mirror she had received from Eraes. She had used it mostly to remember the other woman and examine herself in the mornings, but now she carefully slid it in front of her to reflect the world outside. It was a risk, but it let her see out, while no one would see her reflection except at very precise angles.

No one ever appeared in her mirror or in her senses, and eventually she emerged. Though she worried that she might have gone far off the intended path, it wasn't long before she spotted Veron. The other woman immediately grabbed her in a tight embrace, but this one Tani allowed.

"Good." That was all Veron said, but Tani accepted it. After a time, she pulled back.

"What happened to the raiders?"

"Ran off after they killed a few of us."

Tani felt a moment of confusion before she realized that Veron was speaking of the Stormpeaks, whereas Tani had been asking about the Earthbreakers. That realization nudged her toward the conclusion growing in the back of her mind, but she set it aside. "And the Earthbreakers?"

"We lost four or five, but most are alive. Guyuru has a good head on his shoulders and I saved some more of them." The tight relief on Veron's face turned to disgust. "Do you know the worst part? There were four of them. Fucking four."

"Four Stormpeaks?" Tani found herself simply nodding, having seen the strength of two of them. "It seems they deserve their reputation. Do you think they are as superior to the average raider as Coran master knights are to lesser warriors in the Expanse?"

"I think that we should stay the fuck away. Come on, let's get back to the others."

"I'm not going." The words hurt to speak, yet she felt more confident in them once they left her lips. Veron stared back at her.

"What? You've seen what it's like out there. We need to stay in a group."

"The group didn't do us any good this time. I'm better off trying to slip through on my own." She left unsaid that she didn't want to travel with the Earthbreakers looking down on her, considering her nothing but Veron's kept woman.

"Where the hell are you going to go, Tani?"

She took a deep breath, acknowledging the difficulty of what she intended. "I was hoping you could help with that. You've been talking to them about the surrounding mountains. What are the other paths I could take to Mount Tmil?"

Though Veron looked as if she wanted to argue, when Tani refused to back down, she eventually cursed under her breath and answered. "If you keep going northeast there's a group of villages that don't have raiding clans. The Earthbreakers think they're soft, but apparently they're important for trade. If you go too far, you'll encounter a clan called the Steelbones. They're supposed to be different, but dangerous."

"Thank you, Veron." Tani stepped in to embrace the other woman again, but Veron stopped her with a hand directly to the face.

"This is the kind of stupid shit I'd expect Melal to try. You'd better not be dead when I see you again, kid."

From Veron, that was the best she could get. Tani smiled at her, then carefully retraced her steps to retrieve her knives. She only managed to find one, but she was glad to have it as she headed into the mountains to the northeast.

As she went, she found that her hands were trembling. Not from the experience she'd just survived, but another very different attack. Her mind could not help but show her what might happen if she was captured by another group of raiders. Perhaps they might kill her, but it could be worse. Though she told herself that she had recovered from the experience, the fear knifing through her stomach proved that to be a lie.

None of it stopped her from walking.

Chapter 13

-

"The total population of the clans is impossible to estimate. We believe that it is beyond what the mountains can sustain, particularly with reduced trade, which will likely lead to increased desperation. Their behavior is limited only by routes guarded by powerful errants or, in certain cases, mansthein forces. We cannot speak to the wisdom of any mansthein proposals, only beg that all options be considered in order to efficiently curtail this threat."

- Scholars of the Blue Mask

-

As Slaten returned to the village, the knifegale bodies bounced from the string around their necks. Aside from their eggs being a delicacy for the Bloodskins, their feathers were valued for trade and the women used their nearly metallic claws as hooks. More importantly, struggling to catch them had been an interesting test of his speed and reaction time.

Now, however, he was ready to return to his room. There was still light in the day, but most likely Natala would see him and intercept. He was looking forward to it so much that when Melal stepped into his path, Slaten frowned.

"Cheer up, Slaten! We're going to discuss our journey east!"

"East? To Mount Tmil?"

"That's right! The small raids came back with news, so all the men are meeting. I convinced them to discuss our path instead of the usual feast, so we're meeting outside the village." Melal grabbed him by the upper arm and pulled for him to follow. "Let's go!"

As Slaten followed, he felt a stab of shame. All he had wanted was to go back to Natala, but this time Melal was fully focused on their objective. Despite his ambivalence about reaching the Sage, Slaten remembered that Tani and Veron were currently traveling a more dangerous path. Not doing what he could to reunite with them would be simply irresponsible.

They avoided the entrance to the village and instead traveled further east. Their path seemed unremarkable at first, ranging far from the village but avoiding the hunting grounds.

Eventually they reached an unexpected grotto: water cascaded down the face of a cliff in a small waterfall, forming a clear pool that soon became a stream. The trees grew larger around it and for once the grass was lush, though far shorter than in the Chorhan Expanse. It could have been a peaceful place.

At the moment, multiple Bloodskin raiders filled the area, preventing any potential silence. Though over a dozen were present, Slaten's attention immediately focused on the most powerful: Chief Bufogu, Gatoda, and a lean man bearing an over-sized Catai's axe. Slaten didn't know the last well, just knew that his name was Hogowo and that he was somehow involved in testing young Bloodskin men.

"Finally." Bufogu greeted them before he turned around to make eye contact. "I still think this is foolish, but you and Gatoda have been very insistent. We can go to Mount Tmil... if we can overcome the two major problems."

"What problems?" Melal stepped up to him and struck a fist into his palm. "They'll be nothing but steps in the path of the Legend."

"The bigger problem is that we need to cross enemy territory to reach Mount Tmil. I would have said it was impossible, but the situation has changed. If you can prove yourself by taking care of the rest, one way or another, then we might be able to make the journey." Bufogu turned away again and folded his arms, but the explanation was continued by Gatoda, who stepped up with a smile.

"Many clans threaten our path, but two of them have become less of an issue. The Coldsteps have been moving west of their normal positions, apparently because the Deathspawn in the north are causing more trouble than usual. For reasons unknown, the Earthbreakers and the Earthsmashers have finally made their feud into a war, and the result is a clearer path. A lucky turn, eh?"

"It isn't luck," Melal said confidently. "Who are the others who stand in our way?"

"There are several small clans, but they would not dare fight us. But the Stormpeaks sometimes range in that area, and they... they would be a good fight."

Slaten had only heard the Bloodskins say that about a few enemies, including the Zeitai's forces north of the mountains. Based on what he knew of the relative armies, he thought that was their way of saving face when talking about opponents that would crush them. No one dared take on the Stormpeaks.

"But I have a plan!" Gatoda gestured to the southeast, further south than the tallest snow-capped mountains. "If we travel far outside our normal territory, we could raid a Deathspawn caravan between Bonewalker and Stormpeak territory. Done right, the two of them will fight one another and open a path. But first, we'll be able to harvest a richer bounty than here in the west!"

"I like this plan." Melal looked over the group, nodding to himself. "I knew I was right to return to your village."

Gatoda clapped him on the back and it seemed possible that the two of them would continue to jovially compliment one another indefinitely. Slaten decided that it was past time to speak up. "What about the second obstacle to the journey?"

To his surprise, Chief Bufogu was the one who answered. "Right now, you are too weak to make the journey. Even without any enemies in the path, the mountains themselves will defeat you. That is why Hogowo is here."

"That's right." Hogowo stepped forward and set his axe down on the ground, leaning his hands on the pommel. "When men climb high in the mountains, the air itself fights against them. Idiot boys who attempt to climb the tallest peaks die, one way or another. But for men with hot enough blood, even the greatest heights are no challenge."

All of that was unfamiliar to Slaten, but in this he assumed the Bloodskins knew what they were talking about. Furthermore, he was interested to learn a sein art directly from the warriors. Melal stepped forward to go first, insisting they teach it quickly. Hogowo brought him over to the edge of the pool... and then grabbed the back of his neck, forcing his head underwater.

Bubbles exploded around Melal's head before he struck back, knocking Hogowo away and jerking himself free of the water, spluttering. "What are you doing, you fool?"

"Do you want to grow stronger or not?" Hogowo jabbed a finger at the pool. "To prepare yourself for the assault of the mountain air, it is best to start with water."

"But you didn't want to explain anything? You just forced my head underwater!"

"Your blood will be hot enough or it won't. What is the point of talking?"

Glowering, Melal returned and dunked his own head underwater as if to prove a point, though Slaten doubted that he knew what point. The entire exercise left Slaten uncertain. He hadn't expected the Bloodskins to be interested in complex workings of sein, but this was much more instinctual than he had anticipated. No matter how many times you nearly drowned an Oken warrior, they would never gain breathing arts. Unless this was an elaborate jest, it must be different for the Bloodskin clan.

Since Melal was determined to master the exercise, no one tried to drown Slaten and he had time to look around more carefully. He saw that all the other warriors practiced as well, some choking one another and some dropping into the pool. This must be the group that would make the journey, or at least those who needed further preparation.

Chief Bufogu stood at the edge of the pool, staring at the water but not watching any of the preparations. Slaten stepped up beside him, not making eye contact, and spoke quietly. "Being able to breathe in the highest mountains may be necessary, but we'll have to fight as well. If you want us to prepare, it would be better to teach us your defensive arts."

"You would enjoy that, wouldn't you?" Bufogu turned to look at him with a chilling smile. "You may live with us, but you don't have the spirit of a Bloodskin. No, if anything, you remind me of those bloodless Stillmarrow bastards."

"So you won't teach us."

"Go drown yourself, lowlander. Your blood is not suited to our strength."

Seeing that it was pointless to persist, Slaten stepped away. He didn't throw himself into the pool, however, instead carefully observing Melal and all the other warriors. Their practices might seem brutish, but they did offer specific advice. Often it took the form of demonstrations, but they attempted to teach something that could not be expressed in words.

Eventually Slaten made an attempt himself, forcing his head underwater until his lungs burned. He didn't try to imitate the Bloodskin efforts, instead letting his sein flow in similar patterns. It failed at first and he pulled his head back out, gasping. As he caught his breath, he realized that his hair desperately needed to be cut, currently plastered around his neck.

That experiment had taken him closer. He still failed to grasp the essence of their art, yet he felt that it was within sight. For now, that was sufficient. Working on his own would only prompt mockery from the Bloodskin warriors and he didn't think their teaching could help him much further.

Slaten stepped away from the pool and began to wring out his hair. Melal noticed him and trotted over with a frown, still dripping. "Leaving so soon, Slaten? Usually you're on the training grounds longer than anyone else."

"Today, I want to get back..." He realized the implication of his words too late to call them back.

"Ha! You can't get enough of her, can you?"

A nearby warrior struck Slaten in the shoulder with a laugh. "This one's blood burns hot once it starts burning! Don't wear her out this time!"

Slaten barely acknowledged their jesting and turned away, reminding himself that this was exactly the deception he had intended. He might dislike their view of him, but it made him more human in their eyes and it gave him time for what truly mattered. The final call made him wonder exactly what Natala had been saying about their nights, however.

When he returned to the village, the guards nodded to him in respect. Since he'd begun conforming to more of their expectations, they'd accepted him much more easily. It made him think back to his time in the Oken village and wonder if he had failed himself in some existential way, but at the moment he simply didn't care.

Instead he headed directly for his room. No sign of Natala yet, but she'd likely spotted him on the way in. He removed his equipment and then moved to the blankets, which had been joined by the bear fur that kept the nights much warmer. By the time he'd shifted all of them into a more comfortable position, he heard the door creak.

"You're back early." Natala slipped inside with a smile and then barred their partition behind her.

"Today was unusual in several ways." Slaten smiled in return and sat with his back against the wall. "Did you bring the Neyet board?"

"I did, but you should just keep it in your room. We play far more than anyone else." Natala revealed the board and box of pieces from underneath one of her layers of clothing. As she sat down and began setting them up, she glanced up at him. "What happened today?"

He explained about the training as they began to play, their conversation wandering into past events regarding the Legend. Mostly he told her everything, though certain events surrounding the Hero he still struggled to speak aloud. Natala asked penetrating questions and never seemed troubled by his conclusions, so speaking to her came naturally.

It was easy to play while speaking, because the game of Neyet was not a complex one. He'd been fascinated by the spiral-shaped board at first, but it proved simple. Each player moved pillar-like pieces from the outside to the middle until the center was filled. Since each movement was determined randomly by dropping a pair of crudely-crafted cubes, there were generally few viable choices, certainly not like playing Shiil or Yenith.

"In your stories, Melal sounds different from the other Heroes." Natala watched him closely. "Do you think that's true?"

"I'm not sure."

"It sounds as though he has been the Hero for longer than any of the others that you've known. So far, there have been no terrible events like the city you mentioned. Apologies, but I forget the name. Avoiding such violence is good, but the power is being wasted. Do you think Melal is the best choice for the Hero?"

"It isn't that simple." Slaten carelessly moved another piece to the center. "Every time I've seen the power used, it's turned against us in the end."

"But all versions of the Legend seem to end with the Deathspawn being destroyed. What other weapon do we have against them?"

"Their armies might be overwhelming, but they're not invincible. I just wish I knew more. There are stories of other continents where Deathspawn and humans fought to a standstill, or even coexist peacefully. Until I know the truth..."

Natala watched him as he trailed off, then spoke softly. "Wouldn't it be better if you had the power?"

Immediately Slaten's memory flickered to standing in the ancient city, surrounded by golden fire. He hadn't been able to utter a word of that and wasn't sure if he wanted to. She was waiting for an answer, however, so he struggled to speak. "If I had that power, I'm not sure I would still be myself. Besides, the Legend has never chosen me thus far, so I don't think it's likely."

"Well, I think it would be better if you were the Hero. Melal has not impressed us so far."

As Natala moved another piece to the center, Slaten realized that the game was over and he had won. He felt nothing in particular about that, since it had been mostly luck. The way Natala had spoken, however, caught his interest. Instead of setting up the pieces on the outer edge of the board again, he just watched her until she explained.

"Not long after you and I started spending nights together, Melal demanded women as well." Natala shrugged as if it was simply to be expected. "We talk, of course. I'm told that he's not a violent man, but particularly selfish on the furs. And the standards for selflessness here are not high."

"I hadn't known that." Slaten sat back and frowned. "Is Laeri...?"

"She wept for half a day. I did what I could to comfort her, because I don't think many of the others understood."

They sat with that, Slaten uncomfortable and Natala giving little indication of her thoughts. He didn't know what he could do about Laeri and he didn't want to talk about Melal anymore. Instead, he decided that it was time to reveal the idea that had him excited for that night.

"I've been thinking about Neyet." He set up the pieces around the board, putting his thoughts into words. "In my opinion, too much of it comes down to simple fate. There is some strategy in the decisions, but very little. Since the two of us will nearly always make the correct decisions, we might as well be casting the bones and seeing who has the higher number."

Natala regarded him with a strange look. "Always make the correct choice? Me?"

"Of course. I've seen some of the warriors overlook an obvious advantage, but you haven't. You're a remarkably intelligent woman, Natala."

"Thank you." She reached over the board and touched the back of his hand gently. "I take it that you have a proposal to change the rules?"

"Exactly. Instead of casting the bones, you can simply choose how many places to move a piece. Also, instead of only being able to move backwards with specific casts, you can choose to move backward or forward at will."

Natala clapped her hands and stared at the board with new fascination. "That is a wonderful idea! But won't we just move a piece to the center of the spiral and then use it to ward off the other player?"

"For that reason, I thought that you should only be able to move a smaller number of spaces backward. No piece could ever guard the center without being overtaken, but each piece still threatens a space around them. This way, the game will have some strategic choices involved."

They made an attempt at it, for once completely focused on the Neyet board. Natala understood the rules instantly and proved a challenge, though she was a bit too focused on moving individual pieces to the center and lost in the end. While playing Slaten realized that it would be easy for experienced players to become locked into stopping each other at the outside of the spiral. That was an obvious shortcoming, but he imagined that a game as elegant as Yenith hadn't been created in a day.

When they finished, they didn't start another game, just considering the board. After a time, Natala shifted over to sit against the wall beside him. She didn't touch him, but he became very aware of her warmth. Eventually she spoke, her hair falling to hide her face from him.

"I meant what I said earlier. I wish that you were the Hero, or at least that you had the power to enforce your beliefs on the world."

"Sometimes it seems that's the only way." Slaten sighed and stared down at the Neyet board. "I don't know if I should enforce anything I believe, but when I see something that's wrong... I wish that I had the power to act."

"Would you like more?"

Slaten turned to her sharply and caught a glimpse of a fiendish smile. "What do you mean?"

"Chief Bufogu wouldn't teach you the Bloodskin clan's techniques of the body, but I will." Natala moved the board aside and sat on her legs just in front of him, eyes alight. "They may believe that only men can fight, but the cold blood of women has its strengths as well. I'm not sure if they know, but many of us have mastered the same skill. Otherwise more of us would be killed by a careless strike in anger."

As grim as that reality was, Slaten focused on the central truth of what she said. "And you can teach me that art?"

"I can, because you've already taught me more than you know." Natala grinned at him again, then abruptly her expression became sheepish. "I will need your help regarding many aspects of sein, however. I believe that the Bloodskin way of speaking of hot and cold blood refers to two basic systems of what you call sein. Those systems are powerful, but they are limited."

"If you've grasped the basics, I feel certain that we could figure out the system between us. But... do you have an awareness of sein?"

"It is not exactly any of the senses you described. Instead of a flow through my body, I feel it pumping along with my heart. I cannot say if I smell or hear it, I only know that I am aware of its movement. Is that enough?"

Only a short time later, Slaten determined that it was. Natala's sein flowed subtly within her, and she was certainly no warrior, but she had a greater internal strength than he had expected. More importantly, she eagerly soaked up new concepts of sein. The more she understood, the better she could explain the Bloodskin arts to him.

With her explanations, it soon became clearer. Though they used sein, nearly all Bloodskin arts were focused on what his people would call a single point of the triangle. They developed their bodies so effectively that they had significant sein capacity as well, but they used it unconsciously based on instinct. It was an effective method in the end. Slaten was not sure how or if it related to the "soul" point of the Oken triangle, but he had never fully understood that aspect of his own tradition.

Eventually Natala had exhausted herself and Slaten wanted to contemplate his own sein. She remained there, not far from him, watching. After meeting his gaze and not turning away for a long time, she spoke.

"Please teach me how to fight."

"Natala..." Slaten took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I am not sure the world needs more warriors. But when I once tried to become something else, I broke and returned to the sword. If you teach me what you know of Bloodskin arts, I will teach you in turn."

"I don't want to be a warrior." Natala stared back at him unflinchingly. "But everything that I am... it could be snuffed out like a feeble candle in an instant. I need to know enough to defend myself."

After a time, Slaten nodded. Natala smiled and briefly embraced him before retreating to wrap herself up in one of the blankets. She had spent herself in their work and was clearly exhausted, so Slaten moved the bear skin on top of her as well.

When he lay down, he wanted to concentrate on all the new arts he had just learned. It took him longer than he'd expected to focus on them.

Chapter 14

-

"By our estimate, there are four clans that can field a significant military force. The most dangerous of these, according to both raider lore and our calculations, is unquestionably the Stormpeak clan. We do not wish to add to their legend, but specify: they alone among the major clans make use of resources such as true forging, sein arts, and female warriors. (See attached notes for possible exceptions.) For these reasons, their threat is not simply a magnified version of the others, but different in fundamental kind."

- Scholars of the Blue Mask

-

Though the meat tasted just as good on her tenth meal as on the first, and there were still many delicacies she had yet to try, Celivia found that she no longer held the same anticipation. She had always thought about other subjects while she waited, but now she found her thoughts tinged with boredom.

Her expenses were apparently paid while she waited on the Zeitai, so she focused on physical training and ate as well as she could. Beyond that, however, there was little productive she could do with her time. She'd discovered that her equipment chit would be honored by several army suppliers, but without a way to transport anything heavy back to her band, they were useless. That was only one symptom of a series of unwritten rules that she'd yet to understand.

This time she didn't need to wait long before a tray of the restaurant's best dishes was brought out to her. They could do interesting things with spicing boval meat, but she'd spent more time enjoying the many ways they could serve behemoth. It was delicious in large steaks, yet even better in various cubed dishes served with a steel skewer. On top of that, each plate had included some dishes that were completely new to her.

Just as she was about to begin, a voice interrupted her. "Excuse me, Nin, but are you dining alone?"

The voice belonged to a well-dressed Seinan man wearing a military uniform with a wolf pelt around his shoulders. She'd come to realize that the furs she'd seen in Sotfaal were only imitating the style in Castle Wahles, and this man's pelt was so flawless she struggled to believe it was real. Regardless, she wasn't interested in distractions. "Thank you, Nin, but I'm not looking for company."

"Suit yourself." He sniffed and moved away, more offended than she thought her polite refusal merited. Celivia had just bitten into one of her larger pieces of meat when a different voice interrupted her.

"You know, he wasn't propositioning you. Or maybe you don't?"

She should have wiped her mouth, but instead Celivia merely glanced over while continuing to eat. The woman who spoke had an immaculately kept face and hair with a Laenan tint of green, artfully styled behind her head with some locks still falling around her shoulders. Breaking with the local style, she didn't wear a fox or any other identifiable fur, but instead blue robes that hugged her figure.

Though she held the sein of a warrior, she didn't carry any weapon, forcing Celivia to reconsider. Her garments weren't suitable for a fight, but few would anticipate a fight in the heart of Castle Wahles. Strangely, she wore slanted shoes with long knife-like heels. They must have been the style, because to Celivia they looked completely impractical.

Overall, she didn't know what to make of the other woman, but saw no reason to turn her away. "Does a man asking to eat a meal with a woman have a different meaning here?"

"Not as such, but context is everything." The woman gave a chuckle low in her throat and slid down into the seat opposite her. "Among officers in the Zeitai's forces, such offers are a preliminary to an alliance, or at least an offer. I heard you have been turning aside all comers."

"Ah." Celivia set down her skewer, reconsidering the past several days. "You were right, I didn't understand. Have I caused offense?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. Indeed, you've cultivated quite an aura of mystique." The woman leaned forward with a sly smile. "Now, are you going to turn me away too? I was once new to Wahleen and uncertain of all the rules here, so I would like to help if I could."

"I... could use that. Thank you."

"Wonderful. My name is Jeraeli, by the way." Jeraeli casually raised a finger toward one of the servants in the restaurant, who responded without needing to be given any order. Though Celivia wanted to believe she had an ally in this place, she found herself somewhat skeptical about the entire arrangement.

"This may ruin my 'aura of mystique'," Celivia said, "but I am only a band leader. I can't imagine that rank attracts any great respect here, this close to a Zeitai."

"Oh, that's certainly not why anyone is paying attention. But you're an unknown who has an audience with the Zeitai. Most of his top warriors come and go, barely making appearances, and the others in his inner circle are nearly as difficult to approach. In you, everyone sees a potential ladder upwards, or perhaps someone they can turn into a step on their path."

Celivia kept a pleasant smile on her face and spoke mildly. "And which one am I for you?"

Jeraeli covered her mouth as she laughed. "I don't know who you are yet, so I cannot say. But I wonder if perhaps the two of us might not climb together. It seems that neither of us has a solid base of support here in Wahleen, and no connections with the Zeitai."

"Does Zeitai Kreue have many connections? A family or the like?"

"It's extremely difficult to get close to Kreue, but many have tried. He seems to have no living family and no history in the military that anyone can uncover. In the ascension competition where he became Zeitai, every other candidate was killed and so information is scarce. But since then he's formed his own legions, so his subordinates from that time remain closest to him."

"I see." Celivia sat back and considered, wondering if that mystery was by design or simply because of how bloody the Zeitai competitions could be. She knew almost nothing about the history of every other Zeitai, after all. "Well, we will not uncover such mysteries in a day. But I hope you will not be quite so mysterious."

Jeraeli paused as one of the servants brought a crystal goblet of wine. After taking a long sip, she set down the goblet and looked back to Celivia. "I'm a lieutenant and warrior, third class. I came here from Laen Karnak in the hope that it would be easier to earn a Catai rebirth. So far, that has proved more difficult than I expected."

"I understand completely." Celivia decided that she could work with Jeraeli and accordingly should be less rude. "My name is Celivia, recently promoted band leader and warrior, second class."

"Oh, then our ranks are just opposite! Trivial, but amusing."

"Do you want anything to eat? I can finish all this, but I would be happy to share."

"I'm quite fine." Jeraeli took another sip of wine and then held the goblet in her hands, watching her over it. "So, Celivia, just why did you come out of nowhere to receive an audience with the Zeitai?"

"I wish that I could tell you. No one has explained anything to me." She decided not to mention that she had seen two Zeitai in combat and worked directly with a third. Given how territorial the Zeitai could be, those facts might even work against her.

"How strange. If you stay for any length of time after your audience, you must understand that everyone will be curious. I hope that you would be so kind as to tell me first? Such gossip has value, in circles like these. I would be happy to help you as I can."

Celivia nodded, but took some time to eat and consider her questions. Best to start with a practical query to test the limits of the other woman's generosity. "I've been given an equipment chit, but no information about how to use it in any practical way. My band is far south by the mountains, so it feels like a false gift."

Jeraeli laughed. "Yes, everyone here loves to set such little traps in the paths of others. What they want is for you to make a mistake or admit your ignorance. Mostly petty games, but they all add up to something concrete in the end."

"What is the solution, then? To ignore it?"

"Simply proving yourself by solving problems is always acceptable, of course. But in this case I can help you at no cost to me whatsoever, so I'm happy to do so. What you need to do is go to the eastern armory and ask for an officer named Daekhan. Though far from the Zeitai's inner circle, he has connections to the Voidwalkers and can arrange logistical miracles."

"Thank you, Jeraeli." Celivia gave her a smile, ignoring the blood on her teeth. "I hope my gossip is worth your help."

"Oh, think nothing of it. Anything else?"

Though Celivia wanted to ask her comprehensive questions about the political balance across the three human nations, she doubted Jeraeli was interested in giving such remedial lectures. No, this offer of help was also a test to see if she was a worthwhile ally. After some thought, Celivia made her choice. "I haven't seen a single human since I came here, but I've heard they should be all over Wahleen. Do I need to understand their politics to understand the circles around Zeitai Kreue?"

"Once, perhaps." Jeraeli shrugged as if it did not matter, but she didn't scorn the question. "You may have seen, there are some mansthein who have been here for a long time, and they have connections to the human families. But now that the Zeitai has arrived, none of that matters anymore. Do you expect to be assigned further north?"

"I can't be sure, but it was implied that I would do more work in the south, against human raiders."

"Then the humans here matter not at all to you. From what I've seen, you need to understand which families are powerful enough that they cannot be fought and which can be pressured. There is a political game there as well, but if the Zeitai has his way, it won't matter for long."

That troubled Celivia, as she had heard that northern Breilin was mostly at peace. She kept those concerns off her face and merely nodded thankfully. "I will keep that in mind, thank you."

"As much as I would love to keep talking to you, if we talk for too long, everyone will suspect we are working together." Jeraeli rose to her feet, taking her mostly full goblet with her. "You can choose to meet whoever you want... but I would urge you to be cautious. Wait until you understand your position here."

Having delivered her warning, Jeraeli walked away. As she went, Celivia finally understood the purpose of the absurdly-heeled shoes: their strange angles forced Jeraeli's legs, hips, and back into very specific arcs. She could understand the appeal, though she was primarily distracted by the impracticality.

As she finished her meal, Celivia decided that any judgment would be foolish. She still remembered clearly how some of her former sisters had criticized her for taking on such a conventional Seinan appearance. Though she admired their intentionally monstrous forms in principle, if she had changed her body in the same way, she would not have felt herself. Jeraeli had clearly chosen to play another game and Celivia did not begrudge her that choice.

She located the eastern armory before the next bell chimed and thought she was well on her way. Yet the day ended without her finding this man named Daekhan. If not for how many different people knew of him, she would almost have suspected that Jeraeli had sent her on a fool's errand, some sort of jest played on new officers, like hunting for winged bovals.

Refusing to be put off, she asked more careful questions the next day. Eventually she was directed to an old hallway that appeared unused. Yet when she walked to the end, she finally found him.

Daekhan proved to be a Feinan man with the reddish coloring she'd come to think of as Wahleenese. He wore a black uniform with a large fur collar that she thought was well-fitted. It was difficult to tell, because he sat in his chair with his legs propped up on his desk. A meat skewer poked from his lips, though it looked too clean to have been used to eat recently. Actually, when she looked closer she suspected that it might be reinforced enough to use as a weapon.

"Naen Daekhan, I presume?" Celivia stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. "You've made yourself difficult to find."

"Most of the people who try to find me want to give me work to do." The skewer twitched in his mouth as he spoke, yet he managed to speak clearly without letting it fall.

"Your work ethic is truly admirable."

"I had one, but I got rid of it. Find it just makes people give you even more work."

His attitude seemed clearly affected, yet Celivia found herself torn between mild amusement and impatience. "If you're that adamant about avoiding work, then perhaps I should leave you alone."

"Band leader Celivia, warrior of the second class, leader of a band stationed at Sotfaal, recent recipient of a rare invitation." Daekhan removed the skewer from his mouth and held it still, watching her with eyes that no longer held any affected laziness. "I asked a few questions while you were trying to find me yesterday. I hope that you went to all this effort for a good reason."

"That will be up to you, won't it?" She set down the chit on the desk before him. "I've been told that my band is due repaired equipment, yet the bureaucracy here seems more interested in testing me than supplying me."

He leaned over in his chair just enough to skewer the chit, then pulled it back to his face. After the briefest of glimpses, he flicked it aside onto the floor. "Though I'm not quite sure what to make of you, playing such games is too much work for me. I'll supply you with your equipment and get it on a transport to the Sotfaal outpost."

"Thank you, Dae-"

"But there's one problem: this chit isn't worth the value of a full resupply. You may not have noticed, but metal is taken very seriously in the Maenhu, and the humans still control the majority of the mines. So you can get your band some new equipment, but not everything. What do they need most?"

Celivia frowned and folded her arms as she considered the question. It had been years since she had worn armor and she wasn't quite sure what to make of the matter. "To be perfectly honest with you, I don't know. All their equipment except their weapons is in poor shape, and they're lacking most secondary armor. Is the chit worth eight new breastplates?"

"Not many here will admit they don't know something." Daekhan fixed her with an odd smile while flipping his skewer between his fingers. "In my opinion, the most important piece of equipment you could get for your band is solid helmets."

"Helmets? But if a warrior strikes them there, the metal will just crumple into their skulls."

"You're a warrior of the second class. Is a breastplate going to stop you from killing someone?"

"No, not really. But if the helmets would do no better, why recommend them?"

"Because you're thinking like a warrior, not a soldier." Daekhan stuck his skewer back in his mouth and sent it twitching from side to side as he spoke. "I suspect you could fall off a cliff and your head would be just fine, but that's not true for your band. You'd be surprised how many soldiers seriously hurt themselves by hitting their heads on something. Or fights between warriors... you might not realize it, but they can send a lot of small rocks flying in all directions. A helmet might deflect some of those."

Convinced by his argument, Celivia arranged for him to send a set of helmets. Since she apparently had some credit left, she also requested a new pair of boots for each man in her band. She'd seen how difficult the mountains were on their boots, and Daekhan seemed to approve of her choice.

After she'd thanked him and went to leave, however, he called after her. "Just who told you to track me down?"

"It was a lieutenant named Jeraeli. I assume you know her?"

The only response was the switching of the skewer from one side of his mouth to the other. Daekhan's face wasn't just blank, it might as well have been a mask. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower. "Funny. Wouldn't have expected that."

"She met me in a restaurant to offer advice. Why do you ask?"

"I don't like to be bothered with work." Ignoring her question, Daekhan put his feet back up on his desk and leaned back further in his chair. "But you didn't waste my time, and I like that. Depending on how things go, maybe I can arrange some assistance for you."

Celivia nodded politely to him and got no response. Deciding that shouldn't surprise her, she turned to go. For one day, at least, she had been productive and accomplished something for her band. Now she could only return to training and waiting for the summons.

A scroll with a black seal arrived three days later.

~ ~ ~

As Celivia passed through the layers of security, from armed guards to nearly invisible threads of sein, she realized that she was only a guest. The people who actually lived in Castle Wahles were the true powers in the nation, whereas she only borrowed their importance for a brief moment. Everyone she had met wanted to enter those halls.

The halls themselves were relatively spare, which surprised her. She thought that Castle Wahles had been stolen from the humans within a generation and had been a seat of government, though not a great palace like Throne Wahles. As she walked, she saw more absences than presences: pale spaces on walls that might once have been portraits or alcoves that must once have showcased statues. They had removed everything but the floor, covered in tiles with beautiful etchings that she wished she could slow to enjoy.

All of it swept by her quickly before she found herself nearing the presence of Zeitai Kreue.

"One moment, Naena." A man in a functionary's uniform stood outside a large pair of doors, politely raising one hand in her way. She wanted to correct him, but he worked directly under the Zeitai. It was difficult to tell while he merely stood there, but she suspected he might be more powerful than her despite his role.

"Do I need to do something, Naen?"

"No, the Zeitai is merely concluding another meeting that has gone overlong." The functionary gave her a flat smile. "My name is Yelaan, and you would do well to listen. Zeitai Kreue will set the tone for your conversation. If he speaks, you will only listen. If he asks questions, you are never to speak unless spoken to. If he invites you to speak, you may do so freely. If he chooses to strike you down, the staff will hear nothing and then remove the body."

Charming. Celivia simply waited in silence until Yelaan abruptly cocked his head to the side, as if only he could hear a specific sound. Then he turned, gestured for her to enter, and pushed the great doors open with the strike of a single hand.

As Celivia stepped inside, she needed all her control not to flinch or stare. The vast room had been artfully crafted to draw the eye toward the throne on the raised dais at the end. It was where the lush carpet led and where the inclined ceiling pointed. Yet despite the immense sein at the end of the room, striking as less a stream and more a waterfall, her gaze refused to fix there.

Instead she found her eyes furtively glancing over the many figures who lounged on cushions along the walls and around the base of the throne. She saw the women first, wrapped in white silks like objects at a market. Yet there were men as well, reclining to present themselves. It was the first time she had ever seen men that way and it turned her stomach, because she struggled to believe that all of the figures in white had chosen this life.

With that sight nauseating her, the pull of the throne became inexorable. Celivia turned away to gaze upon Zeitai Kreue.

Most mansthein would have been dwarfed by the steel throne, yet the Zeitai was an enormous man. A head taller than most Catai, his body was rendered a series of rocky edges by a Greav rebirth. Unlike most Greav mansthein, his face appeared Seinan, only surrounded by armor-like plates around his neck. Within reach stood a surprising array of different weapons, yet her attention was pulled away to a different accessory.

A pale girl sat upon one of his legs, clad only in a short dress. Celivia knew she was staring and couldn't help herself. She had never seen a mansthein with such pale skin or hair and tried to tell herself that she might be underestimating an adult's age, yet she couldn't escape her first impression that it was a stomach-churningly young woman. One of Kreue's clawed hands curled around her waist in a manner that made her doubt she might be a daughter.

"Nin Celivia." The grating voice broke her from her horrified staring, though she knew it must only have been a moment. Celivia immediately dropped to one knee.

The functionary had told her not to speak unless asked a question, so she only lowered her head respectfully. As power descended around her, the very air of the chamber grew thick.

"I am Zeitai Kreue, the Searing Fire. I do not usually invite such young officers to meet with me. You should be honored."

"Thank you, Zeitainan." She struggled to keep her body motionless even as a shiver passed through her. When she met his eyes again, she saw boredom instead of undue interest, which was a relief. Though she would do a great many things to advance, if he had invited her to join this harem of lifeless bodies...

"The conflicts with the human raiders are more important than you might know. You see, we largely have control of the north of Wahleen, leaving the humans in the south. Though I have allowed full trade from Portant, the western trading routes have been choked off by recent tensions. So the southern trading routes are now critical, since if the humans begin to starve, they will break our alliance and march north."

This time she knew that she was not meant to speak, so she merely stayed on one knee with her eyes lowered. While she listened, she struggled to resist the thick fog constricting her with every breath. The Zeitai's power was overwhelming... yet not as unfathomable as what she had felt from Xetsu and Sepultus. Since her own development was not enough to make a difference, she could only conclude that Kreue was less powerful as a new Zeitai, or she had yet to feel his true might in combat.

"Some of our diplomats have promised the humans that we would do something about these raiders," Kreue continued. "Yet between Wahleenese to the south and Portantese to the west, we cannot afford to send large numbers of soldiers. I could take on the tedious task of dispatching them myself, but I must remain here in case the humans send their Steelmasters or Fools onto the field."

The titles meant nothing to her, but if they represented the few humans who could challenge a Zeitai, then she understood the fundamental politics. Both sides would hold their most powerful warriors in reserve, waiting for the moment when they could exploit their strength without risking such an asset. Much of the actual fighting would be done by lesser warriors, though usually it would fall to higher ranked Catai who stood between her and the true masters.

"Tell me, Nin, what did you do to eliminate an entire clan with such a small force? So many of our agents merely hold them back. Eradicating one is an admirable accomplishment."

"Thank you, Zeitainan." Celivia swallowed, considering how few words she should speak. "I observed that their tactics were simple, so I baited them into an ambush with a target they could not ignore."

"The reports suggest it was well done, and Zeriin spoke highly of you." Kreue leaned to one side, setting his head on a hand propped up on one armrest. "You are not the only officer to eliminate a lesser clan, of course. We have noted several who performed such a feat, and we intend to send all of you back in something of a contest. This time, you will eliminate a clan with a smaller force, a company or perhaps a band."

Despite all her control, Celivia's head twitched up to stare at him. It had taken an entire cohort to safely eliminate the Redbranches. Sending her against a clan with only a company, much less her tiny band, was a death sentence. Yet she could not contradict the Zeitai, so she could only hope that she misunderstood the true meaning of her assignment.

"Kreue..." The voice came from the girl, high and young. She squirmed on his knee and dropped her head against his chest. "I'm bored. This is boring."

Kreue chuckled and patted her on the head, leaving Celivia with more unpleasant bafflement. The girl did act like a bored child, not like someone who had been abused. Yet the way Kreue's hand returned to caress her hip made Celivia's skin crawl. Before she could come to any conclusion, the Zeitai sat forward and spoke directly to her.

"Let us be direct: we would not have summoned you to meet us for a minor accomplishment. Though we hope you prove yourself in the Sotunn mountains, you are here for one reason alone: why did Zeitai Teirsan show direct interest in you?"

"I..." Celivia had to lower her gaze from Kreue and the girl. "Zeitainan Teirsan trained me in his uplift program and then chose me for an assignment in the Chorhan Expanse. I had several objectives there, and upon completion, he spoke to me. Beyond that, we have no connection."

"The only objective that matters to me is this 'hero'. You saw him? You fought him?" Kreue leaned forward to stare at her, eyes burning crimson. He was a monstrous figure of stony spikes, marred only by the girl on his knee kicking her legs absentmindedly.

"I saw him but did not fight him, Zeitainan."

"Was he as powerful as me?"

"Much weaker, Zeitainan." She intended to leave it at that, yet the air pressed upon her ever more tightly. Perhaps honesty was a better path than flattery. "Yet I feel as though the Hero's threat does not lie in strength alone. In his presence, I felt his madness enter my mind. He also should not have been able to defeat the Korei commander of the region, yet he killed him, I believe without assistance."

"And this unnatural madness, could it be resisted with strength alone?"

Strangely, Celivia found herself thinking of the humans. She forced the thought aside and instead said what he wanted to hear. "My weak discipline was able to resist him. A master of your power, Zeitainan, should not be threatened."

"Good." Kreue sat back with a look of satisfaction. "There are reports that this 'hero' is moving north, toward my domain. If you encounter him and have critical intelligence - intelligence that Zeitai Teirsan would want to know - then you are to return. Otherwise, we do not wish to hear from you until you have destroyed a clan of human raiders."

"Zeitainan Kreue... forgive my blindness, but how am I to return across the Sotunn Desert and Wahleen?"

Kreue waved the question aside. "You will be given a voidlink among other supplies. Such concerns are not worth my time. But since you have wasted little of ours, you will be given one more token of my esteem. Tell me, how do you find all my toys?" His hand swept over the bodies arrayed around them.

"They are very beautiful, Zeitainan." Celivia clenched her jaw and tasted a trickle of her own blood.

"Our assistant will give you an invitation to a banquet to be held here in the castle. There, many will be made available to you, and you will have your pick of them. If you succeed in the south, that will be only a taste of the rewards of serving me."

Unable to thank him again, Celivia only lowered her head as if the honor was too much for her.

"Now go, Nin." With those words, the air around her constricted so tightly that she flinched as if struck. Celivia struggled to her feet, bowed one more time, and then quickly fled the chamber. She found that the massive doors had opened for her, though only just enough for her to slip through.

As soon as the doors closed behind her, Celivia dropped to her knees and retched. She had expected to empty the contents of her stomach, yet the oppressive fog of the chamber still filled her lungs and throat.

Worse than the overwhelming sein was what she had seen within. That callous debauchery was everything that she had always feared. Teirsan had set her expectations for the Zeitai, with his generous programs to give opportunity to those who suffered most. She had known others were worse, yet she had been encouraged when she heard that Sepultus worked alone and never exploited his power, or that Xetsu cared only for those who possessed strength.

But this...

She realized that some naive part of herself had expected Zeitai Kreue to listen to her. Her words would somehow reach him with pure logic and reason, lead him to turn away from war and toward the society she wanted. But that would never happen, not even if she spoke ten times as eloquently.

All that mattered was power. Just as she'd always known, she needed to become a Zeitai.

Then she would carry her own overwhelming aura, though she would never turn it against those beneath her. Instead she would forge a place for herself where Feinan would work along Seinan, women could pursue any talent, and no group of mansthein would be cast out. She would find those humans who would listen and unite their strength with hers, writing a statement in words that could not be denied.

Many steps stood between her and ascending, but it was not impossible. If she managed it, she knew that Teirsan would support her in many of her aims. Perhaps if she acquired enough strength, Xetsu might stand with her as well. With such an alliance, all would have to acknowledge them. And then...

And then.

All her fantasies fell apart against memories of the Hero's pale madness. Alongside it, the incomprehensible dictates of a Dark Lord she had never met and wasn't sure existed. She realized that it was idle foolishness to even dream of such things. Not when she had been sent away on a suicidal task.

"He's overwhelming, isn't he?"

The words pulled her from her thoughts. Celivia realized that Yelaan stood nearby, smiling down with false understanding. She had no idea what her face had looked like, but apparently he had been able to interpret it as awe.

"Don't worry, Naena, you're not the only one to be overcome. You did better than most. I've seen grown men piss themselves and warriors pass out the moment they stepped from the throne room. I felt his presence from here, and he wasn't holding back... there must be something special about you, which explains why he gave you this."

As Celivia struggled to her feet, Yelaan handed her a square of paper. It was artfully inlaid with silver in a similar style to her chit, except the words were in Futhik. Her eyes flickered over it and she realized that it was the invitation.

Before she returned to the mountains, she might face something worse. Celivia walked back carrying the paper as if it was a poisonous serpent.

Chapter 15

-

"The Bonewalker clan is often neglected when considering the most powerful clans, as they raid primarily south of the Sotunns. However, it must be noted that they appear to be the most organized, with a formal hierarchy and division of roles unlike the extemporaneous systems of many clans. More information about the warriors of the Chorhan Expanse would be helpful in determining whether or not the Bonewalker clan is militarily engaged or could become a threat further north."

- Scholars of the Blue Mask

-

When the time finally came for the raid on the mansthein, Slaten was more annoyed than impatient. During the days he trained himself and he spent his nights with Natala. He thought that he understood the core of the Bloodskin art, though of course he couldn't match those who had spent a lifetime using it on their bodies. At least not yet.

"A toast to the lowlander Hero!" Denugo was incredibly drunk, which made him surprisingly jovial. He wrapped an arm around Melal's neck and shook him fiercely. "The Deathspawn will fear our blades across the entire world!"

Some answered the toast with raised mugs, though Slaten wondered if some of them wouldn't have answered a toast to anything. Not that they needed an excuse to drink, with the clan's grand table filled to bursting with food and alcohol. It seemed that since they planned to begin a raid the next day, they were eating all their supplies first.

"To the Legend!"

Melal wrestled free of Denugo's cheerful grasp and stood. Slaten noticed that he held a large drinking horn like the chief, which he hadn't possessed before. His simple toast got a much louder chorus of responses, and after everyone drank, there was a moment of silence in which Melal spoke up again.

"Tomorrow, we will go to mock your enemies, slay Deathspawn, and plunder their goods. But this is only the beginning! Once we forge a way to Mount Tmil and find the true path of the Legend, you will have so many riches that these will look like children's toys!"

Nearly everyone cheered in response, though it was unclear which part they cheered. For some, it didn't really matter.

Instead Slaten watched those few who didn't cheer, which included Chief Bufogu and Patule. The latter merely sat back with reserve, but the Chieftain of the Bloodskins watched grimly. Slaten realized that there was an odd similarity between him and Natala, both of them always watching with dark brown eyes that absorbed everything.

As usual, Slaten didn't participate in the toasts, but everyone was accustomed to that by now. He fulfilled Bloodskin expectations simply by eating as much as he possibly could. He wasn't even sure about the nature of many of the meats set before him, but he ate them all. Since he'd begun training in Bloodskin arts, he found himself ravenously hungry at all times.

Eventually the feast had progressed far enough. Several men remained, loudly singing off key, but others began to disperse. So long as he wasn't the first to leave, Slaten thought that no one would care, so he rose to his feet.

"That one has the right of it." Denugo gestured at Slaten while stumbling to his feet and rearranging his pants. "This is the last night we'll have warm beds and women to cool off our blood! We shouldn't let any time go to waste."

"Aye, you're right." Melal got up beside him, copying his movements. "I'll be sure to show Bihuna a good time."

Surprisingly, Denugo burst into laughter. "Fuck her good, Hero! Plant a strong son in her belly!"

As the two of them staggered out, Slaten wondered if that was possible. From Natala he'd learned that the Bloodskin women ate several herbs to discourage childbirth, though Laeri seemed concerned about the practice potentially being harmful. There was a chance that Bihuna had been taken in by the Hero, however, and would stop taking them.

Pushing such things out of his mind, Slaten emerged from the great hall to return to his own room. He might not be returning for the same reasons, but he was just as eager. If this would be his last chance to speak to Natala, he wanted to make the most of it.

First, however, he saw a pale figure in Melal's path. Laeri clutched her staff tightly as she tried to stay close to Melal while keeping her distance from Denugo. "Melal... if you're leaving tomorrow, may I come with you? The journey sounds so difficult..."

"Stay here, Laeri." Melal tried to put a hand on her shoulder but ended up shoving her a step. "This one won't be safe."

"But I want to help. I... I can help..."

"She still wants you!" Denugo burst out laughing, pulling Melal away from her. "You'd better not push away my Bihuna for some lowlander girl!"

The two of them went off, still laughing, and Laeri stared after them. Slaten came to stand beside her, but from her gaze he immediately realized that she didn't want to speak to him. He couldn't provide the type of comfort that she wanted.

"This is only a short journey," Slaten said eventually. "They estimate as many as forty days, though it may be as few as twenty if the dangerous clans aren't nearby. When we leave for Mount Tmil, you'll definitely come with us."

"Are you sure? What if Melal... what if he...?"

"It won't be only his decision, Laeri. When we leave the Bloodskin village, we'll meet Tani and Veron again. They'll need you too."

She nodded slowly, thoughts of the others leaving her slightly less sad. Slaten noticed that Laeri wasn't sniffling the way he would have expected. Her time in the Bloodskin village seemed to have hardened her somewhat, though he wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

Perhaps he could have done more to help her, perhaps not. Either way, Slaten left her to go to his own room, abruptly tired of everyone. All he wanted was to spend the night talking with Natala. It was truly remarkable how perfectly she matched him, providing everything he couldn't get from the Bloodskin warriors. He hoped to invite her to leave with them, once they journeyed to Mount Tmil.

As usual, he found Natala waiting for him. She had the Neyet board with her, but the pieces remained in their box in one corner. Judging from her quiet smile, she was well aware that this was their last night before the raid.

"How dangerous do you think this raid will be?"

Slaten sighed and sat down on the fur opposite her. He'd hoped for a conversation that would range from random philosophy to jests, but couldn't blame her for her concern. "More than most. All the village's strongest warriors will join us, but we have no specific target and the Deathspawn we find might have Catai with them. If we actually meet Stormpeaks in any great numbers, that will go poorly for us as well. The plan is to avoid them, but..."

"I worry. If you die, I don't know what I'll do..."

"I won't feed you any false promises, but I intend to stay alive. Thanks to your help with Bloodskin arts, I'm in less danger than I would have been before." A different thought occurred to Slaten and he frowned. "Will everyone here be safe, with most of the warriors gone?"

"If another clan learned we were vulnerable, it might go poorly for us, but they should have no reason to know of this raid." Natala shook her head and shifted to sit beside him. "I'm more concerned about you. The men deny it, but the Bloodskins are far from the most powerful clan in the mountains. I've seen so many men not return from raids..."

"Focusing on it won't help. Instead, let's go over what we've learned of sein one more time. I will have time on our journey to practice, so I need to gain the clearest possible understanding first."

Usually Slaten found that offering practical solutions to mental concerns wasn't appreciated, but it seemed to help Natala. He thought he saw her brush away a tear, but then she eagerly helped him. She had developed as well, the natural defensive arts she already possessed strengthening as she applied her new understandings to them.

When they finished the training, Natala remained beside him. She let out a deep breath, then shifted to lean against his side, her hand on his knee. Slaten froze, both because her touch shot through his body and for a reason he struggled to identify. Natala had always been vulnerable, but she seemed even more so that night.

"Slaten... I have never known a man quite like you." She looked up at him and he sank into her dark brown eyes. "At first, I feared all that you could take from me, but instead you've given me so much. I... for the first time, I want..."

"Natala..." He breathed her name and her face moved so close that he could easily have kissed her. Her hand slid along his thigh, not far from his aching manhood. She seemed to be waiting for him, but... "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Of course it is, Slaten." She leaned in, brushing her body against his, her lips whispering against his jaw. "I've been trapped here my entire life, but you can free me from this hell. We can live free of them and you can be my chief, my savior..."

A cold spike of understanding speared through his mind. Despite the parts of him that screamed to accept her offer, something deeper grimly realized that the whisper of discomfort was founded on something. Natala had never been so desperate before. He wanted to believe that she was merely concerned about the raid, yet now that his mind had engaged, it refused to let go.

"Slaten? What's wrong?" There were glimmers of tears in her eyes now and he desperately wanted to kiss them away.

"After everything you've seen from Bloodskin chiefs, do you really want another one? We should be able to live without warriors ruling by strength."

"I didn't mean it that way, Slaten." Natala drew back slightly, attempting to smile but with tears fully formed in the corners of her eyes. "I've been a Bloodskin woman all my life. As much as you've taught me, as beautiful as those visions seem, I need more time. I want to be with you so that you can teach me gentleness and pleasure..."

Moments ago, he might have accepted her words, but now it was the wrong thing to say. Slaten found himself fixing his attention on every minute detail of her expression even though she reacted with obvious pain. "Natala, why are you trying to manipulate me? If you wanted to sleep with me, all you would have needed to do was ask."

"I'm not!" She shuddered in a barely suppressed sob and shifted back, wiping away a tear. "I just... I just wanted you to know how much you mean to me! I wanted this night to be special, so that you wouldn't leave me here."

"You lived in this village for your entire life without being this helpless. You've seen men and women who are in love. Why are you flattering me?" Now that he was looking, he felt certain that she was acting. She was good, somehow managing to summon authentic tears, but her emotions were crafted for Bloodskin men, not the subtle interactions of Oken culture.

"Slaten, why are you doing this? Why w-"

"Natala." He spoke her name sharply, louder than he intended. She shrank back in fear... and then her face went blank.

Utterly blank. Natala stared at him without expression, and when she wiped away the tears with one hand it was as if the emotion had never been. He stared back, for a moment horrified, then saw in truth. She watched him with the cold spark of intelligence he had always seen in her eyes, everything else stripped away. Her eyes slid between his posture and his face, dispassionately analyzing.

"Did someone send you to test me?" He hated the question as soon as he spoke it, but pressed on. "Have we misunderstood the Bloodskin clan entirely?"

She let out a snort, almost exactly like the one that preceded her old laugh. All his mind could do was wonder if that was another false emotion as she answered. "No. Don't be absurd. We're a band of savages leeching off real clans."

"Then what is this? What are you trying to accomplish?"

"Are you going to harm me? Cast me out or punish me for the deception?" She cocked her head as she looked at him and he realized for the first time that it was an exact mirror of his own movements. From the beginning, she had taken what he showed her and fed it back to him. And he thought they had shared something true.

Anger surged through him, but it left nothing behind. Slaten answered in a flat voice. "I have no reason to do that. But I need you to be honest with me. All these nights, what have you been doing?"

"You're the first real chance I've had to leave this village. I needed you to value me enough that you'd take me when you left." Natala shifted and he saw a flicker of annoyance on her face. Or perhaps merely the semblance of annoyance, mimicked to manipulate him. "Most of our men are simple creatures. You were more complex, but it seems I wasn't careful enough."

"But why go to all this trouble? Why manipulate me like this?"

"Because you could kill me in a heartbeat." The abrupt response made him rock back, staring at her with new eyes. He saw no overt emotional fear in her face, but her gaze held a grim calculation.

"I wouldn't hurt you."

She waved the statement aside as if it was a child's babbling. "You could. You have more strength in one hand than I do in my entire body. You could swing your sword through my neck before I noticed you were moving. Those facts hang over every conversation between us, regardless of what you say."

Slaten took a deep breath, coming to grips with the truth of her. Though a hot core of anger still burned within him, he accepted the reality of what she said. If her entire life had been lived within the Bloodskin village, she had very limited examples of how people interacted. From that perspective part of him could understand, yet another part remained fixated on the deception.

"You're frustrated because you believe you're a good man and I'm not giving you credit for it." When Natala spoke up, he realized that she was speaking much more quickly than before, no longer including any pauses awaiting his words. "You might be. But when you noticed, I wondered if you wouldn't cut me down because of my deception. You should understand that: you've seen good men do terrible things."

"Very well, I understand. But why try to sleep with me now?"

"You should have figured that part out, Slaten. Men grow attached to things they can fuck. I'll grant you that you never wanted to force yourself on me. I saw that it wouldn't work to throw myself at you, so I let us grow closer first."

"But that would have been enough. We were close, or at least I thought we were. You didn't need to do that."

"I do not believe you." Her statement hit all the worse for the utter lack of hesitation, in her words or in her eyes.

There was nothing he could say to that, so Slaten merely stared at her for a time. She stared back, though now he thought he saw a bit of her old curiosity in her expression. Faked just as effectively as before. "You've done nothing but lie to me since the moment I walked in that door, haven't you? From the very beginning, you saw how I acted and what I wanted and you mimicked it."

"Slaten, I..." He saw pain in her face and struggled to believe it wasn't false. Natala observed his response and her face went flat again. "From before that moment, actually. I spoke with Laeri about you and used what she said to set my tone. It was more difficult than I expected, because you hide so many of your thoughts. You're a much more complex man than those in the Bloodskin clan."

"Don't try." Slaten knew she could read his expression easily, so he didn't attempt to hide anything, merely stared back at her. "Maybe I'm a simple fool who can be manipulated with flattery, but you aren't stupid enough to think that it will work after you've been revealed."

"Perhaps I'm intentionally angering you with obvious flattery to goad you into doing what I really want."

"I considered that. The fact that you raised the issue yourself suggests you have a different motive. Perhaps you mean to paralyze me with indecision so you can try again on someone else."

"Perhaps I considered that you considered that." Natala smirked at the convolution of their conversation and he very nearly smiled in response. For a brief moment, the comfort of their old relationship almost returned, before he cut it away.

Seeing the change in his face, Natala lowered her eyes. Sadness, perhaps.

The silence extended between them until she finally spoke again. "What now?"

"Isn't that up to you? You're the one who's been manipulating this from the beginning."

"And you know how little those manipulations are worth now, when you could kill or ruin me." She tilted her head again, like before, and he had to wonder if she could still be trying that deception. "I still want you to remove me from this village. I've been honest about every Bloodskin art I've taught you, but I can show you others. You can still fuck me, if you want."

He stared back at her, incredulous. Part of him wondered if he actually could, having seen what she really was. The tender emotion she had faked turned his stomach, but the idea of being with her in this cold state, as nothing but a transaction... part of him felt that it had been a very long time. Slaten gave up on maintaining his mask and just slumped back with a sigh.

"I don't want that. Right now, I just want the day to be over."

"I think you do want me, but you're lying to yourself because of who you think you are." Natala watched him carefully. "Without pretending anything, do you think I chose you randomly, Slaten? If I only wanted a man for protection, I could have chosen countless warriors in this village."

"Don't. Don't try." Slaten rubbed his eyes roughly and then stared directly at her. He shouldn't give her any opportunity, but... "I will help you escape in exchange for the Bloodskin arts you know. But if this was all a lie, I will neve-"

"It wasn't all a lie. But how can I ex-"

"Let me finish. If you were doing nothing but manipulating me, then I want nothing else to do with you. If that's all you want, then stay silent. But if there was anything real here, I'm giving you one chance to prove it. Or one chance to manipulate me. Choose carefully."

Natala considered him carefully, but surprisingly briefly. Then she leaned over the corner of the room and placed the Neyet board between them and spoke rapidly. "Your version of the game is superior to the original, but flawed. Skilled players will trap each other at the start, and if pieces advance deeper, there are really only a few viable choices for any given position. I lied about being fascinating by your ingenuity."

That had not been the approach Slaten expected. Despite himself, he looked down to the board as she began demonstrating positions.

"Before you arrived, I devised a version of the game myself. You begin by placing several pieces on the outer rim in turns, to avoid the initial trap. The rules allow you to choose your movement, but in addition you can choose to move pieces through the curls of the spiral, going backward but threatening other pieces."

Slaten's eyes widened as he realized how substantial such a change would be. Despite its spiraling shape, the Neyet board was essentially just a curled line. Natala's version of the game cast movement in two dimensions, vastly increasing the complexity of the game.

"I flattered your version of the game, Slaten, but this much is true." Natala took a breath and stared directly at him, without any emotion. "When I saw that you made your own rules, I was happy. You may not believe me, but I was glad when I saw someone else play Neyet and react in the same way that I did. That may not be what you want, but it is what I have to give."

For a long moment he stared back at her. The words certainly seemed authentic, lacking any fawning adoration but speaking to a real connection similar to the one he'd thought they'd shared. Yet that unemotional approach would be exactly what she would attempt if she wanted to manipulate him.

Natala sat back and sighed. "I see. I tried."

"I would like to believe that, but you must understand that everything you say will sound like manipulation now. That barrier is inescapable except through manipulation. No matter how many layers of thought, I can always recede to a deeper layer of skepticism, unless you defeat that cycle by gaining control over me."

"Or unless you trust me."

"Yes, but you didn't trust me."

To his surprise, Natala smiled. Her expression and posture became much more relaxed, or at least she feigned relaxation. She grabbed one of the blankets and curled up in it. "You won't believe me, so I'll just say whatever I want. I think I prefer this to manipulating you. And I meant everything I said about hoping you survive the raid."

She retreated to a corner and pretended to sleep. Slaten took one of the remaining blankets and struggled in vain to find a comfortable position. Everything was worse than it had been when he stepped into the room, and he still wasn't sure if he'd rather be trapped in the deception.

Chapter 16

-

"The Coldstep clan is the largest in the range, depending on how those numbers are determined. Many clans barely replace their own numbers, but the Coldsteps have continually grown. Because they are ill-suited to large scale operations, they periodically break off weaker portions into branch clans with derivative names. Collectively they are a formidable force, and the core Coldstep clan is capable of living at heights that only Steeljudges could survive."

- Scholars of the Blue Mask

-

Though Tani's journey began in fear and trepidation, every day that passed without incident slowly bled away the scars of trauma. She suspected that the true danger now was growing lax and stumbling into an ambush, but she took it as a challenge of discipline.

Her rationale for traveling unaccompanied proved sound, in the end. Alone and using all her tribe's arts, she could pass through the mountains close to invisibly. Early on she did make an error and saw a group of raiders, faces covered in fierce red paint, yet they passed her by even though they must have seen her. Perhaps they sought more valuable prey, since she imagined that she must look like a boy to them. She still vowed to avoid all such encounters in the future.

As she traveled, she focused all her attention on her arts of perception. The Nelee possessed many such skills, but her master had instructed her to focus on a single one: the Duusha Eye. It was oddly named, for it did not involve her eyes at all. Instead, it seemed to mimic the way the skittish duusha scanned their surroundings for predators at all times.

They had vicious horns if they were attacked. So did she.

Every evening she removed her master's case from her pack and ran her fingers over the rough wood until she knew every splinter. Though the texts within were the most valuable object she possessed, she used the case itself to gather the many arts scattered before her into a unified practice.

Some Nelee could so cloak themselves in shadow as to be nearly invisible, but that art escaped Tani's grasp. All her experiences of careful movement ran up against stronger emotions that made her sein flow in improper patterns. Instead of attempting some grand art, she focused on tamping down her sein so that she would be invisible to the expanded senses of others.

Once she did so, she discovered that the world became strangely quiet, as if the flow of her sein had been her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. When it finally ceased, she found a deeper silence than she had known existed. Instead of a river, the sein within her rippled like a quiet pond.

In that stillness, she found herself simply watching the mountains around her in joy. There was a grandiose beauty in seeing the rolling waves of trees beneath her, yet she also found a majesty in the rocky cliffs and even the charm in the stark, ice-clad peaks. When she reached a high point, she could see even further than in the plains of her home, yet the scope of seeing so much of the world rendered so small left her breathless.

Those moments were not distractions, they were the heart of her practice. Tani drew them into herself like precious gemstones and watched them sink into the pool of her sein. When they reached the bottom and the ripples ceased, she realized that she had attained something new.

As she walked, she felt a deep awareness of the sein all around her. Occasional raiders passing on nearby mountains struck at her senses in a way she struggled to describe, like a twinge in her back. When she was completely still and silent, she could even feel the simple animal sein of the creatures that moved through the mountains. Not well enough to identify most of them or count the birds, yet she had never known it was possible to feel such untrained sein.

With the new awareness opening to her, Tani felt increasingly secure moving through the mountains. She might not be able to fight the raiders if it came to that, but they would never find her this way. As she learned how to move more securely in a purely physical sense, that allowed her to move more swiftly and even run at times.

Perversely, her progress only made her thirsty for more. She felt as though she was on the threshold of a significant breakthrough, yet it evaded her. When she lay still at night and contemplated her sein, sometimes she almost believed that she could hear it, but other times she felt some sense she could not name, somewhere between her master's practices and the Duusha Eye.

She needed to focus on one or the other or she would only wander blindly between the two. Yet she struggled to make the decision, wishing that she had her master with her for guidance. Over and over her fingertips caught on the rough edges of her case.

Still, it had been a long time since she had traveled in such peace. Humans and mansthein still killed one another, and the raiders still threatened, yet still she was happy. She found her mind turning to the old techniques that Jaer Krylyl had taught her... and there her contentment faltered.

That technique had not been her master's, but she had taken it up solely to defend herself against the Hero's terrible light. She enjoyed the practice, but it served no other purpose.

And there, she had not truly advanced at all.

~ ~ ~

Tree boughs brushed past her, little more than caresses now that she could move through the trees easily. She had left the small path she had been following because she had a strong sense that something lay before her. Her arts had not developed so far that she could be certain, yet she felt as though there was a concentration of sein ahead.

In the mountains it would take much longer to travel that distance, however, since she needed to descend into a nearby valley to reach what she felt. Between herself and that point, she knew that something else existed, like motes of dust in the light. Who exactly it might be, she couldn't say, but she thought that she had come far enough that she should observe. Perhaps she had finally left the territory of raiders and might find normal people.

When she advanced, she felt one of the motes swirling around her. For a moment Tani thought that someone was moving impossibly fast, then she realized that it was a confusion within herself, as when the world seemed to spin. Her sense was still so abstract, she struggled to focus on the particular...

Such as the raider with a spear charging directly toward her.

Tani drew her knives automatically as he lunged out of hiding. She saw only one spear and it seemed that he intended to fight with it directly instead of switching to another weapon. When it stabbed out toward her, she desperately swept her sickle knife up to deflect it.

And did so easily. As Tani continued to deflect the series of spear thrusts, she realized that she had the battle well in hand. Her opponent clearly had some sein training, attacking with real power and speed. Yet his skill with a spear was clumsy compared to the vicious assault she remembered from Subenor. Since then, she had only grown swifter and stronger, so even his aggressive tactics were little threat to her.

If he connected, the blow could still be mortal, however, so Tani played it safe. She waited until she saw the perfect opportunity and then hooked the tip of his spear with her sickle knife. When it stopped moving for a moment, she reached out and grasped the shaft with her hand.

Though the young raider tried to pull away, he was only slightly stronger than her. She pushed, sending the butt of his spear against his side, and then tore it from his hands when he stumbled.

Tani stepped forward, her sickle flashing to end him. He barely managed to throw himself away from her swipe, landing on his back and staring at her in horror. Imagining how many innocent people he must have seen in the same position and then killed, Tani advanced with her knife ready.

"Please, no!" Someone dashed from the trees and Tani braced herself for a strike, but it was an unarmed young woman. She threw herself in front of the raider and stared at Tani with trembling determination. "Don't hurt us!"

The tension drained out of Tani and her hands slipped to her sides, letting the spear clatter to the stony path. Though the two of them looked physically similar to the raiding clans she had seen, they carried a different air about them. Certainly, she doubted that any Bloodskin men would inspire women to put themselves in danger for them.

As Tani put away her sickle knife, she examined the two of them more carefully. They were roughly the same age, and at first she thought they might be partners, but they both had exactly the same dark green eyes. Perhaps siblings, then. If so, the sister hesitantly helped her brother return to his feet while they watched her as if she was a wild animal.

"I don't know what clan you're from," the young woman said, "but you should go. Even if you kill us, this village is protected by the Steelbones."

"You're part of the Steelbone clan?" Tani kept her hands away from her sickle knife so as not to intimidate them, but couldn't manage a smile. To her surprise, both of them shook their heads and the brother spoke.

"We're just a village. But we have an agreement with the Steelbones. If any raiding clans harass us, they strike back."

"Yet you attacked me."

He shrugged awkwardly, not meeting her gaze. "You could have killed us. Revenge later wouldn't protect my sister."

Sighing, Tani did her best to smile. While traveling alone, she had smiled often, yet doing the same in the presence of other people felt strange. "I am not associated with any clan. My name is Tani of the Nelee, and I am merely a traveler through your mountains. May I join you?"

She saw the tension leave them, though the brother looked uncomfortable until she gave him back his spear. For a short time afterward she held tension in her shoulders, as if it had all been an elaborate trap, but that gradually faded as she spoke with the two of them. They had left their village to gather herbs and locate an animal that had escaped before running into her.

The sister was called Cabari and the brother Rubako, and they seemed to have a bond that would have been admirable in a Nelee village. As they walked, Rubako carried a large basket and Cabari retrieved various plants to place within it. From their implications, Tani gradually learned that their village was so small that it didn't even have a name, they merely struggled to survive in the mountains.

Though she wanted to ask them about the Steelbones, talk of raiders seemed to make them uncomfortable. Since they were the first friendly people Tani had met in the mountains, she held off on those topics until they trusted her more. It seemed likely that they would take her back to their village once they were done.

"Oh, there he is!" Cabari abruptly clapped her hands and pointed. Tani immediately spotted a tall stone spire... with a strange creature perched on the top.

"What exactly is that animal?" Tani peered at it closer. It was a large beast with four legs ending in cloven hoofs that clung to the rock as if by some mystic art. The most striking trait was its long dark hair, though she noted two straight horns on its head.

"That's a woolly bicorn." Cabari drew herself up proudly. "You probably haven't seen a woolly one before because they usually only live in the coldest mountains. They grow even bigger, some big enough to ride, but we raise the smaller ones here."

"And they're damn hard to catch." Rubako cursed under his breath as he walked to the spire and attempted to chart a way to climb it, though he struggled to find a handhold. His sein arts did not seem to help him in that, though he did heft a large rock as if to throw it.

"Rubako, no!" Cabari rushed to grab his arm. "You'll injure him!"

"I'm just going to knock him off."

"That rock is much too big! And the fall itself might hurt him."

"They fall off the cliffs sometimes. They'll be fine."

"But we lost a bicorn last week! We can't injure another."

While they argued, the bicorn let out a bleat and released a stream of rank pellets. Tani wondered if it mocked them, though she saw little intelligence in its eyes. In any case, she decided that it was time for her to take a hand. She might not be able to grip the stone like the bicorn's hooves, but its position was not so high, not for her.

In one leap she landed atop the spire. The bicorn tried to kick at her, but she grabbed it by the horns and pulled it into the air. She was surprised at how heavy it was, heavy enough that without sein, only a strong man could have lifted it.

For a time it struggled, bleating at her, but eventually it hung limp. Tani jumped back down beside the siblings and gestured with the animal. "Will this do?"

Cabari laughed and clapped her hands again, while Rubako retrieved a rough string and tied it around the animal's neck. When Tani let the bicorn back down, it only bleated a few times, tugged on the string, then settled into line behind them.

"Do you have many woolly bicorns here?" Tani asked. Rubako shook his head.

"Wish we had more. But the Steelbones take them as payment, and we can't breed more fast enough."

"How much do they require you to pay for protection?"

"It's not so bad," Cabari said, but her brother shook his head with a dour expression. Tani found herself wondering exactly what kind of protection this was, but again decided not to press the matter. She seemed to have earned her place with them by recovering the bicorn, so she hoped to forge lasting ties.

When they reached the village, her first thought was that it looked a miserable little huddle of shacks, but her impressions soon filtered through the smiles she saw on the siblings' faces. This was home, for them, and that was what mattered. They returned the bicorn to one of several pens around the village, though Tani immediately saw how the bicorn might have gotten out. Rubako grumbled something about meaning to fix the fence.

Otherwise, the village contained little. A few villagers eyed her but didn't approach. One pen had a hutch that looked as though it contained another type of animal, though she couldn't see in while walking past. None of the houses were larger than the others, but there was a large structure that Cabari called a barn and said they needed in the winter. Given how cold it was, Tani had assumed they were already in the season of winter, but for some reason this made the two of them laugh.

"Please, come inside." Cabari smiled at her and stopped at the door to their house, swishing her skirts shyly. "We don't have much, but you look so hungry."

Tani couldn't deny that her rations and hunting had thinned, so she gladly accepted the offer. The siblings lived alone in their parents' house, after a raider attack took their father three years past. It was modest at best, every surface and object carefully cared for and mended many times.

She had no such reservations about the food they served her. They used milk from the bicorns to make a substance called "cheese" that Tani thought very strange, yet she found herself scooping more curds from the bowl. Given their poverty, she had expected no meat, yet to her surprise she was served a little. Neither of the siblings seemed to find the dumplings remarkable, but Tani relished the three she was given. Each had a bundle of different vegetables, with just enough meat and spices to give it added flavor.

Though she wasn't sure of their customs for guests, the two grew more relaxed as they ate. Once most of the food was gone, Tani decided to ask Rubako her question. "I would like to stay here with you for a short time. I can fight, and I can probably help some with your work. Is that alright?"

"Are you bringing any trouble after you?"

"I don't think so. I don't know anyone in these mountains except for a few fellow travelers."

Cabari sat forward. "Oh, where are you traveling? Is it to Espal? Or Portant?"

"Strange as it may seem, I am traveling east. Can you tell me how to get to Mount Tmil?"

To her surprise, both of them stared at her in shock. The silence stretched and Tani was just about to inquire what was wrong when Cabari spoke quietly. "You're really going to Tmil?"

"Yes, I am. Is that strange?"

"Just dangerous." Rubako shook his head. "It's hard enough to live here without taking risks like that. Nobody climbs the big mountains except crazy warriors."

"Well..." Tani gave a sheepish shrug and managed to pull a laugh from Cabari. She decided to keep everything else about her journey a secret. After so long walking in the light of the Legend, it was a relief to simply interact with other people who wanted to live normal lives.

Once every morsel of food was gone, Rubako went out to check on the bicorns again. Cabari sat against one of the walls and pulled off her outermost cloth in order to mend it. As she did so, Tani noticed that her innermost robe seemed different than the others: far, far higher quality.

"Cabari, may I...?" She asked the question carefully, but the younger woman simply nodded and pulled out some of the fabric for her to feel. Tani knelt and ran her fingers across it, marveling at how incredibly soft the fabric was. "Just what is this?

"We make it from ombo wool. I think maybe you don't have ombos where you come from?"

Tani shook her head, resisting the urge to feel the fabric any further. She couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like to have inner linings made from it. With a heavier outer layer for warmth, she could easily brave far worse conditions.

Seeing her curiosity, Cabari guided her to the hutch she had seen before, where she observed the ombos to be small creatures sniffing about the cages. She had expected them to be covered in wool or heavy fur, but instead they were bundles of long hair, which Cabari explained was gathered to form wool.

When the young woman opened a cage and allowed Tani to hold one, she discovered that its body was much smaller than she expected within all the hair. It squirmed in her hands somewhat, hair tickling her arms, but seemed quite peaceful. She was amazed at how helpless it felt, though she noted that it had large ears to hear predators and strong back legs that might allow it to run swiftly.

"There are wild ombos, of course, but we breed these to have softer hair. They are the only truly valuable thing we have." Cabari sighed and ran her fingers along the robe herself. "We can't make cloth fast enough to pay the Steelbones, so I may have to use my own for payment."

"Do these Steelbones actually offer protection?" Tani asked gently. She saw something flicker in Cabari's eyes, but then the other woman shook her head.

"You will see, if you stay for enough days. It is not many now... will you stay?"

"Yes, I will." For now, at least, her days of traveling alone were over.

Chapter 17

-

"There was considerable disagreement among we scholars as to whether the Stillmarrow clan deserved to be considered among the four most dangerous. They have shown large numbers and above average strength, but what sets them apart is their good judgment: they have never allowed themselves to be cornered in a pitched battle. Information is scarce, and some among us believe that it would be unwise to make too much of this."

- Scholars of the Blue Mask

-

As the banquet drew closer, Celivia did everything that she could to take her mind off what was coming. There was too much turmoil in her mind for her to accomplish any meaningful sein training, so she threw herself into brutal physical work. Every time she lay gasping and covered in her own blood, however, she found herself thinking about her choice.

When she had raised the issue with Jeraeli, the other woman hadn't seemed to understand her objection, though Celivia had found herself staying quiet instead of articulating her thoughts. To Jeraeli, it was simply an opportunity to take a step closer to the Zeitai's inner circle. When the other woman received an invitation several days later, she had been elated.

Now only one day remained before that night. Though Celivia considered finding Daekhan and asking him what he knew about such banquets, she thought that he would not appreciate being contacted over so little. Since Jeraeli was busy preparing herself and Celivia had turned aside others interested in speaking to her, she had no other connections to bide the time.

Instead she wandered back to the headquarters of the Voidwalkers. Considering how they spent the majority of their time moving across the world, it was likely to be a meaningless trip, but she was in luck. No one stopped her and she found Unila sitting in a common area. The Voidwalker wore her dark uniform, but with most of the clasps undone.

"Unila!" Celivia smiled as she walked near. "I haven't seen you since we trained together!"

"Hello, Celivia." Unila looked up at her, only half-smiling in response. "What brings you to Wahleen?"

Celivia slid down into the couch opposite her and noted how soft it was: Voidwalkers always had excellent accommodations to offset the difficulty of their work. "I'm only here temporarily before they send me back to the Sotunn Mountains. They're giving me difficult assignments, but in theory they will pay off. But what about you? Have you worked here long?"

"Hmm... I suppose it will be three years in forty days or so. Wahleen is a bit different than most positions. The humans don't have any equivalent to our division, not like in Fareshel, but some of their masters can voidwalk. We have to negotiate with them sometimes, which is always odd."

"I spent several years working with humans, so I know that can be difficult even before voidwalking gets involved. I probably won't be able to see you often, but you might end up bringing me supplies in Sotfaal. Hopefully we can support each other."

Unila fixed her with a flat gaze. "That's all very friendly of you, but we haven't spoken since we left Teirsan's program. What do you want?"

"Is that how it usually goes?" Celivia suppressed a wince, since Unila had essentially seen through her. It might be a weak connection, but having a Voidwalker on her side would be of great use. "I honestly don't need anything from you."

"You would not believe how minor of acquaintances approach me, wanting something voidwalked across the world. Everyone who's ever sold me a single skewer of meat thinks that's their angle." Unila lay back and rubbed her forehead with both hands. "If you even try to say anything about women sticking together, I will throw you out. And I could throw you pretty far."

"I really don't need anything right now, Unila." Celivia stood back up. "But you're right, you have more to offer me than I can offer you. If that's how you feel, then I'll just go."

"Oh, don't sulk." Unila wiped her eyes and stood up as well, giving her a bit of a smile. "At least you tried to talk to me before you needed something, and you were kind enough when we were both training to be Voidwalkers. Since you passed the early training, it would be easier to move with you."

"Then you're open to working together?"

"We have to stay neutral, but I'll give you a favor. If you need something transported, or need to go somewhere, I'll help you. Once. How much I'll be able to help will depend on the route they've given me and how important your request is."

"Thank you, Unila. I wouldn't ask for anything that isn't important."

"Importance is a relative thing." Unila shrugged, but her little smile hadn't disappeared. "I'll tell the staff here to take messages from you if I'm gone. So I'll see you when you need something."

Though Unila walked away, Celivia was the one who didn't belong. She wandered back out of the building, feeling more guilty than she had expected. Unfortunately, she did essentially fall into the category of people hoping to leech off the Voidwalkers. It frustrated her to think that she had been unwittingly exploitative, but Unila had freely given her the favor. That could make a huge difference.

Celivia returned to her room and began preparations for the banquet. That began with making her sein presentable, smoothing out all of the tension from her training. What she needed to present was an immaculate warrior, young but on the path to power. After so long in the wildernesses of the world, she struggled to retrieve old habits from dusty shelves of her mind.

Beyond that came more mundane elements of presentability. She bathed herself thoroughly, then took extra care to put her hair up properly: finally an opportunity to wear Reina's pearl comb. With Seinan skin and hair, maintenance of a basic appearance wasn't so difficult. Though Jeraeli had offered to let her borrow clothes more in keeping with the current style, Celivia opted to wear her best combat robes. Those would be a better representation of her true nature.

At last it was time. Celivia went to the gates of Castle Wahles and presented the invitation, only to be led in a completely different direction, to a smaller door in the side of the fortress.

There she discovered a grand hall filled with tables, three large bonfires blazing alongside them. The tables had only a few small bowls, but many of the chairs were already full. Not wanting to participate, Celivia slipped into a seat at the corner. Listening to the others, she gradually came to understand that arriving early was a sign of being one of the inner circle. Something to remember, if she stayed.

As more people arrived and servants began to bring out food, Celivia realized that she would need to take a better position. If the banquet didn't become anything she feared, at least not immediately, then she couldn't ignore this opportunity. Strength was only enough when it was completely overwhelming; until she obtained that, she needed to play the game.

Some tables were filled with nobles wearing elaborate furs, while others held mostly soldiers in remnants of their uniforms. She instead took a seat at a table filled with an irregular set of warriors, hoping that she might be best suited there.

"So you're the band leader who got an audience." The voice came from a warrior clad in heavy Wahleenese armor. Though his tone was not hostile, it was clearly a challenge as she sat down.

"I took initiative and destroyed one of the human raider clans." Celivia stared back at the helm to see if he would reject her, but her stare was interrupted when a Catai on her side of the table slapped her on the back.

"Not bad, Seinan! I spent a year in the mountains. Those bastards are slippery. They only fight when it's against weaklings." The Catai who spoke was perhaps the broadest man Celivia had ever seen, taking up the space of three normal people. His slap on her back was hard, but using full combat defenses, she managed to do little more than flinch.

"If you ask me, it was a crass misuse of resources." The new voice came from a thin Seinan man who at that moment sat down across from them. He stiffly pulled off a pair of black gloves, one finger at a time, not looking at her.

"How would you have eliminated the clan?" she asked. He sniffed and continued to focus on his gloves, but he did answer.

"The raiders are far too dependent on their strongest, their lesser forces lacking discipline or not having training at all. What you need - what I did - was collect a group of elite warriors. Eliminate the strongest members of the clan and the other humans will tear the survivors apart for you."

"A good strategy, if you have elite warriors available." Though she answered lightly, Celivia agreed with the arrogant man. She would rather have a few with strength similar to her own than an entire company of soldiers like her band. Whatever path the raiders followed, it seemed quite effective at producing warriors.

"The Portantese are the same." A new voice entered the conversation and Celivia turned to see a rare Feras Catai. A fierce mane of golden hair sprung from his neck and shoulders, blending with the hair atop his head. But where most Feras she had seen had matted and tangled hair, this man had brushed his until it shone impressively.

When he spoke, the arrogant man sniffed and turned away. Celivia realized that he had finished removing his gloves only to begin putting on a different pair of gloves. The new pair was thin and white, perhaps for eating, but did he truly need a different pair simply to walk to the banquet? That was a level of vanity she had yet to face.

"They have armies, but you've just gotta find the biggest one." As he spoke, the wide Catai continued to shove pieces of meat into his mouth. "Take them down and all the rest run away. Battle over."

Though his strategy was crude, to say the least, he radiated sein as if he had plenty to waste. Celivia knew that most warriors at the table were powerful, but she was still surprised at how carelessly he spent his strength. If these were the type of warriors who generally received invitations to the Zeitai's banquets, she was out of place.

As the meal continued, more dishes were brought out and the conversation ranged. Celivia learned few names, but she did come to understand more of how the politics surrounding the Zeitai worked. Ignoring ranks, Kreue had a select set of elite warriors he trusted most, and authority trickled from them down to their subordinates. If not for her audience, she would have been beneath even them.

Jeraeli arrived fashionably late and couldn't find space at the same table, so Celivia remained alone. Fortunately, they mostly allowed her to be an observer of their own conflicts. The broad Feinan, the stiff aristocrat, and the Feras had all gone through Catai rebirths, and not the simplest version. She couldn't compete and found herself wishing that she could exit.

"Excuse me." The soft voice beside them made her flinch, because she hadn't sensed any arrivals. She looked up to discover Yelaan, the functionary who had stood outside the Zeitai's door. "The four of you are invited to come deeper inside for a more private dinner."

The other three seemed unsurprised, so Celivia decided to go along with them. They were swiftly taken from the main feasting hall to a side chamber, where she noted several others had arrived. Though Celivia tried to make eye contact, her friend seemed much more interested in the Feras, flirtatiously toying with his mane. It was difficult to tell if she was interested or merely manipulating him. Judging from how he reacted, the latter would be an effective strategy.

All around her, the atmosphere had changed. The broad Catai was regularly rubbing at the bulge in his pants, and Celivia caught a few fragments of conversation that suggested what was about to happen. Though no one was looking at her, that didn't make her any more comfortable. She edged toward the door, only to find the fussy man by her side.

"Planning to depart early?"

She met his gaze evenly. "Is that forbidden?"

"Of course not." He shrugged languidly, finally turning his attention from his gloves to look at her. "If you wish to advance in the Zeitai's court, however, refusing gifts is unwise. I only wanted to tell you that if your concern is privacy, private rooms with whatever you desire could be arranged."

"Thank you." She smiled, but it was a weak attempt that convinced no one.

Before they could say any more, the functionary returned to escort them into another room. This one was filled with cushions and low beds, adorned with the white-clad women and men she had seen in the throne room. The broad Catai let out a roar and charged in, throwing two of the women over his shoulders.

Further in, Celivia could see Zeitai Kreue seated on a bed. He was alone, but something in his eyes struck her as infinitely cruel. That, more than anything, was what made her finally turn and walk in the other direction. No one tried to stop her but Jeraeli, who caught her gaze and urged her to return before finally letting her go.

Celivia left the castle by the shortest path, finally stepping into the night. It had grown cold outside, yet she could still hear the sounds of the celebration and feel the warmth on her back.

~ ~ ~

Though there were no obvious consequences to simply leaving the banquet, the next day Celivia realized that her social aura had changed. When she ate at a restaurant, no one made any attempt to talk to her. She didn't see anything approaching scandal or even interest, she had simply ceased to be a relevant entity in the circles of power surrounding the Zeitai.

As Celivia ate her way through an entire tray of meat, she tried to decide how much of a problem that was. Soon enough, she'd be given the exact details of her assignment and then sent back south. Most likely she wouldn't see anyone in Throne Wahles again until she'd succeeded, at which time her behavior probably wouldn't matter. She wondered if she had burned bridges that might have brought aid of some kind.

"You robbed yourself of an amazing experience last night." Jeraeli appeared beside her, wearing a different but equally gorgeous dress than the one she'd been wearing the previous night. She sat down opposite Celivia, giving her a strange smile. "Anything you'd wanted, you could have found it."

"A good night of sleep?"

"Ha, no." Jeraeli leaned forward, examining her carefully. "If you have someone, you should have said as much. You'd have been viewed as eccentric, but it wouldn't have been a refusal."

That would have been a good lie, but it was too late to reconsider, so Celivia merely shrugged. "You found what you wanted, I take it?"

"Oh, absolutely. They gave me one of those beautiful slender men and it was incredible. I've been stronger than untrained men for years, but this... he had no sense of superiority whatsoever. If anything, he was afraid of me. I had absolute, unquestioned power, and oh, I used it to release years of frustration."

Celivia listened silently, keeping her face completely blank. She knew something of malice, and knew that she had little room to judge others after everything she'd done, but the raw pleasure in Jeraeli's voice troubled her. Enjoying having power over an innocent reminded her too much of days she'd rather forget.

"You have an impressively blank face, but I'm guessing you don't approve." Jeraeli examined her, a hint of caution in her eyes. Celivia realized that she risked driving a wedge in between them and didn't want to jeopardize their connection. Best to find another approach.

"I've never been able to release frustration that way," Celivia said, "but I have friends who do. I know one who has suffocated more than a few men with their own intestines."

"Oh my. That would have raised some eyebrows last night... but not so many as you might expect."

"Then it must have been quite a wild banquet."

"There are rumors that Zeitai Kreue indulges even stranger desires in closed celebrations." Jeraeli sat back with a bit of a frown. "But would you like a strange bit of gossip? Even though he keeps a harem of men, I never saw Kreue touch even one. His lusts seemed rather straightforward to me, just sex and control. Does he keep them just for the sake of his female subordinates, I wonder?"

"And you couldn't learn the answer from your new circle of friends?"

"Don't be that way, Celivia. I suspect you think me self-absorbed, and I would never pretend to be a spirit of pure benevolence. But neither am I as purely self-indulgent as the Zeitai. When I acquire power, I intend to use it to make the changes that this nation needs. We won't survive the coming conflict with the humans if we can't unite."

"Then we aren't so different," Celivia said, willing the words to be true. "But I fear my path is going to involve fewer orgies and more trekking through the mountains."

Jeraeli laughed. "Let me handle the orgies, then. The social circles surrounding the Zeitai seem complex, but they don't encompass quite everything. According to the stories, the Zeitai has a powerful subordinate named Knakar who never appears at the banquets. All he does is travel from assignment to assignment, tirelessly doing the Zeitai's dirty work. Most I spoke to have never even seen him, but I wonder if you might not encounter him out in your mountains."

"If I hear of a man named Knakar, I will let you know."

"Thank you. I wasn't sharing that information with you to amuse myself. The paths to power here in Castle Wahles seem rather crowded, so another approach is necessary. If you could form an alliance with the Zeitai's most trusted enforcer, you might skip ahead of all of us."

"That would be a rather remarkable coincidence." Celivia smiled at Jeraeli, trying to keep the sudden weariness from her face. Once she had been better at the dance of politics, but for now she only wanted to go back and face an enemy she could easily understand.

They spoke on lighter matters until Celivia finished her food. Jeraeli left her with a warm farewell, an unspoken acknowledgment that if they ever saw one another again, it might not be for some time. Though it was possible that Celivia would remain in Castle Wahles for an extended period, she suspected that she would soon be given her assignment and her reprieve would be over.

As it happened, when she returned to her room she found a messenger waiting. She was to return to Sotfaal and eliminate the Lowstep clan, using only her own band of eight men.

Celivia sat in silence until it was time to go, wondering if things might have been different if she had fully accepted the Zeitai's invitation.

Chapter 18

-

"Among countless lesser clans, several deserve mention, beginning with the only two who have ventured significantly outside the Sotunn Mountains. The Sandriders of the west target river merchants, desert nomads, and occasionally the hills west of the Sotunns. The Waveburners in the east have nearly left the mountains, becoming pirates who threaten the great bay and even the coast of Wahleen."

- Scholars of the Blue Mask

-

Strangely, the ongoing frustration fueled Slaten's training. Usually he tried to let his emotions fall away to focus on the purity of his movements, letting current emotions recede until he could dwell in the pure sensations of his sein. Yet as they traveled over the mountains toward their destination, Slaten found the opposite occurring.

It was most obvious with the Bloodskin arts. Though he was frustrated by memories of Natala's deception, the flashes of anger seemed to surge directly through his body. With each exercise, he could feel himself growing stronger... and angrier. The emotions and the arts fed on each other, creating a cycle that threatened to control him. He tried to keep the influence at bay by reflecting that perhaps the general attitude of the Bloodskin warriors was not determined solely by culture.

There were few jests and no fights among them now, of course. Their path had taken them deep into enemy territory, and despite the occasional boast, they knew that drawing attention from the Stormpeaks too early would be fatal.

They made camp in a safe location every night, without fires but stocked with plenty of rations taken from the Bloodskin village. There the warriors who didn't form the watch let themselves relax, but Slaten never joined them. He had too much on his mind, and speaking with the Bloodskin warriors would only stir up the wrong thoughts. Instead he sat alone, where he was generally ignored. Melal was the one they had truly embraced, after all.

That day they had taken a midday break to eat and scout. As usual, Slaten took his share of food and walked some distance away. When he finished and found that the others seem disinclined to move on, he considered starting a round of training exercises. He worried that the Bloodskin warriors might recognize their own arts, but so far there had been no trouble.

Just as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, he heard sounds of alarm. He saw warriors beginning to stand, but none reached for their weapons. All eyes turned toward the camp's entrance, where two figures now stood.

"It is time!" Melal nearly shouted the grand announcement. Beside him, Gatoda explained his proclamation.

"We were looking for a way around that peak when we spotted them. Big group of Deathspawn, with a lot of soldiers, but they're guarding something important. It's closer than we thought, but we're not going to get a better chance."

"Which is why we must strike!"

Many nodded in agreement with Melal, but a majority still turned to Bufogu. The Chief of the Bloodskin clan slowly rose to his feet, letting his imposing frame capture their attention. When he spoke, he did so quietly, forcing everyone to lean closer.

"We go, but we do not attack until I give the word. Denugo, lead a group of men to scout ahead of this target, to be sure it is not a trap. Patule, take the fastest of our men and judge their strength precisely. I will lead the rest of us into position for the attack, if this is the time to fight."

The band of warriors split up to obey, many tossing aside food. Melal seemed fixated on the upcoming fight, his eyes bright, so he didn't bother to object or insist that he would lead. If he cooperated, the attack would likely go smoothly. Slaten hoped that was what he wanted.

Surprisingly, Patule chose Slaten as one of the warriors to evaluate the caravan. He reflected that he was one of the quietest of the group, though his use of sein wasn't so imperceptible as the Bloodskins'. As they crept closer to their target, he realized that it must be because they used sein in such an earthy, embodied fashion. There was more to uncover there, but it was not the time for reflection.

When they reached their vantage point, they peered over the side of a wooded cliff down to the path below. This was a proper road, paved in stone and tearing through smaller hills. Perhaps some past warrior had cut them with raw strength.

The company moving along it was larger as well, a substantial group of mansthein guarding two lines of wagons. Though there was nothing that struck Slaten as particularly valuable, it was certainly a large shipment heading north. While he did his best to count their numbers - at least two hundred - he was surprised when Patule suddenly crouched down beside him.

"I want to know what you see, lowlander." Patule had an ugly scar across his face from a wound that should have destroyed his features, yet a green eye peered from out of the gnarled flesh. "You've fought the Deathspawn in many lands. I've noticed that they seem to have strange differences, more than men."

"That's true." Slaten turned his attention down to the group again, though he continued speaking. "But there are many more that I haven't seen, so I don't know if I can recognize them."

"Just tell me what you see."

As the company advanced, Slaten watched them more carefully, assuming that others would count their numbers. He was somewhat surprised that Patule had approached him, but the Bloodskin always lurked at the edges of feasts like a watchful predator. Since this was a measure of trust, Slaten considered his report carefully before speaking again.

"I assume you know Catai and you've seen the one in the back," Slaten said, "but do you see the Deathspawn sitting atop that wagon? I suspect that he is more than he seems."

"Aye, I had my eyes on him too. Anything else?"

"On the left flank, there is a group of shorter Deathspawn that look different. Purple skin, dark hair."

"They're not Deathspawn children?" Patule's mild surprise suggested that he had no problem with cutting them down, so Slaten pressed on. He almost said Veron's name, but thinking of Natala's manipulations, changed his approach at the last moment.

"A warrior I trust fought similar Deathspawn. He said that they attack in a mad rage, heedless of their own survival but very dangerous. If that group screams, they could be the largest immediate threat."

Patule grunted in acknowledgment but didn't move away. When he spoke again, he surprised Slaten. "I know you're fond of that woman, but you shouldn't trust her. She may seem normal now, but she was a strange girl. The blood in her heart is... wrong somehow."

Patule pushed off the ground and went to join the others, leaving Slaten speechless. Though the information was nothing new to him, thanks to that terrible final night in the village, he noted that Patule appeared to have given him that information as a sort of thanks for his observations.

It was mildly curious, but Slaten returned his focus to his contribution to the imminent battle. As the scouting groups gathered and prepared to strike at the ambush point, he drew his sword and held it in his hands, still wondering.

In the end, he decided that he would not hesitate. Part of him feared that some might be innocent scholars like Ulviab, but the mansthein he saw below were soldiers. They had their own thoughts and dreams, but they had chosen to join the army and invade a foreign land. Ultimately they were violent raiders, just like the Bloodskins.

There were no innocents here, only violent soldiers. Including him.

As always, the attack began with a volley of spears from above. Many struck home, but the mansthein responded with shouted orders in Futhik. When the second wave of spears arced down, few reached their targets. Soldiers raised shields, warriors grabbed the spears out of the air, and the Catai shielded his comrades by letting the weapons break against his skin. The warrior sitting atop the wagon simply rose to his feet at the perfect moment to evade.

The Bloodskin warriors around Slaten let out a roar and rushed down to attack, though they were not the first group to do so. As Slaten went with them, keeping his sword low at his side, he could only watch as the battle unfolded at the speed of sein-trained warriors.

As always, the Bloodskin warriors struck the wall of soldiers like a deadly whirlwind, ignoring the weapons that failed to deal serious wounds. Yet among those soldiers there were a few warriors who struck back, and Slaten saw several Bloodskin warriors fall before being mobbed by the soldiers.

On the other side of the caravan, he saw Gatoda and Denugo fight their way to the Catai. The enormous mansthein struck out carelessly, then hesitated when his strike was blocked. As the two of them attacked in concert, he began to give ground.

At that moment, a terrible scream echoed from the group of short mansthein. Slaten felt the sein cut through his skin, but the power of it was almost a physical force, slowing his advance.

The cluster burst outward, striking with brutal disregard for their own safety. When they struck at torsos, the superior Bloodskin bodies let them strike back, but some of their blades cleaved through necks or went deep into skulls. In a single heartbeat, the death toll on both sides increased, yet the survivors intended to rush onward.

Except then another volley of spears struck the group of stunted mansthein. Those who saw it dodged, but many sprouted spears in the side or back. Slaten saw that Patule stood on the opposite side of the road, leading another group of Bloodskins that had held back for this exact purpose.

Then Slaten and the other warriors collided with the battle and there was no more time for thought.

His world became flashing weapons, flailing limbs, screaming faces. Discipline and strategy were meaningless, as it took everything he had to stay aware of his environment.

The soldiers rushing at him moved sluggishly, and they fell easily. As Slaten pulled his sword from the side of one, a fragment of his mind realized that these fights were meaningless. Though the Bloodskin warriors seemed happy to cut down inferior opponents, that meant nothing to him. He didn't care about their goal and his own survival was a small trifle, so the battle gave him nothing. What he needed was to test himself.

Slaten advanced on a pair of warriors who fought with sword and shield, apparently capable of holding off the Bloodskins. He struck out at one and was surprised at how easily his thrust was turned aside. A moment later, the shield thrust out to pummel him.

He caught the blow on his shoulder and to his surprise, it was the mansthein who dropped back.

This was no time for hesitation, so Slaten continued to attack on instinct. After an intense exchange of blows, his blade slid underneath the mansthein's shield, driving into his stomach. Though Slaten tried to pull it back, conscious of the second warrior nearby, the fight ended abruptly when a Bloodskin struck from behind, decapitating the other warrior.

Several more soldiers stood in the way, so Slaten moved toward them. He was surprised at just how strong he felt and wondered if he could shrug aside a serious injury, as the Bloodskins did. And yet... he found himself surprisingly tired. His new body had easily maintained the marching pace of the others, so he had expected his stamina to be improved. Yet his breath came heavily and his sein became burning blades lancing through his body.

At that moment, Slaten realized that he had fought his way close to the center of the caravan. And the warrior who waited atop the wagon.

Two Bloodskins fought him, yet the mansthein refused to give ground, his feet moving agilely over the wagon's cargo. As Slaten watched, he saw one of the Bloodskins launch a sweeping strike, blocked by the back of the mansthein's hand. Not deflected, simply blocked. Slaten realized that there was something wrong with the man's hands: they looked far too large, glinting like metal and ending in sharp points. His immediate sense was not hands, but jaws.

The second Bloodskin warrior attacked with an axe swung overhead and the mansthein caught the attack in one hand. Then his other hand launched out, clapping over his opponent's face... and his fingers closed like jaws with a sickening crunch. Gripping the mangled head, he used the corpse as a projectile against the remaining Bloodskin warrior, sending him tumbling.

Then the mansthein turned to Slaten and leapt down from the wagon.

Though he knew that running would be the most intelligent option, the heaviness in his limbs made him fear that he would simply be cut down. In that case, his only choice was to stand his ground and hope that he could end the fight in a single brief exchange.

When the mansthein approached, Slaten began with a clumsy decoy thrust. As he expected, the mansthein reached out to grasp his weapon. His opponent was fast, but unprepared for Slaten to suddenly use his full speed and lunge forward. The slash sliced through the mansthein's shirt... and glanced off his skin, leaving only a shallow cut.

Instantly the mansthein closed the distance, his hand striking a vicious impression of a steel beast's jaws lunging toward Slaten. Though he jerked his head out of the way, an instant later pain shot through his body as the hand agilely shifted to clamp down on his shoulder.

Slaten's mind froze as he felt the strike grind against his bones. He had cast sein into his shoulder in his defensive art, and his new body was tougher, but it wasn't enough. In a moment, his sein would fail and the mansthein's grip would crunch through bone. And yet part of him just stared at the hand on his shoulder, distantly noting how it felt like there were more than five fingers, as if the hand itself had changed...

His body's instincts didn't freeze. Almost without thought, he drove his sword through the mansthein's stomach.

With a cry of pain, the mansthein reeled back, letting go of Slaten's shoulder... but he didn't fall. Slaten knew that he should take advantage of that moment, but his sein was exhausted and his shoulder throbbed in solid agony. To use any further arts would deeply overdraw his reserves.

So he didn't move as his opponent reached down and clamped a hand down on the sword in his stomach.

To Slaten's shock, he felt the sein in his blade shatter as the metal itself tore apart. With overwhelming strength, the mansthein's hand had clasped around the blade and simply broken it in half. And his other hand moved toward Slaten's face again.

Pushing past his limits, Slaten abandoned his ruined blade and dodged back. He automatically drew his second sword in a flash, connecting with his off-guard opponent.

The edge rang off the back of his opponent's hand harmlessly. Slaten realized that his effort to dodge had truly overdrawn himself, leaving his final strike slow and weak. Even at his best, however, he wasn't sure if he could have cut through this mansthein's strangely armored hands. Though he was looking death in the face, Slaten found himself staring at those hands, wondering if it was a trick of the light or if they truly...

Several Bloodskins attacked at once, striking the mansthein from all sides. He reacted with surprising ferocity, catching one weapon and goring another Bloodskin, but there were too many. With part of Slaten's sword through his stomach, he couldn't fight back against their superior numbers and was eventually cut down.

It took most of Slaten's strength to keep his sword raised, but he saw that the battle was mostly over and surviving mansthein were being hunted in either direction down the road. As he watched, one final defensive knot was shattered as Melal charged directly into their weapons, impossibly avoiding any injury.

Only one fight remained: Chief Bufogu trading blows with the Catai. Yet as Slaten watched, he realized that it was a demonstration, not a fight.

Both warriors had lost their weapons and struck at one another with their fists, Bufogu not giving way to his larger opponent. Yet from their movements and the hot strength burning within the Bloodskin Chief, Slaten could tell that he was far superior to a Catai. His body seemed nearly as capable of absorbing punishment, each blow struck with bone-breaking force, and he was quick on his feet.

The only reason Bufogu was dragging the battle out was to let all of his men see his strength. It seemed an effective tactic, as Bloodskin warriors began circling the two, calling out encouragement, advice, or mockery of the mansthein.

As the danger faded away, Slaten struggled to stay on his feet. His world took on a dreamlike quality and he found himself staring down at the body of his last opponent. The man's hands were heavy and out of proportion to his body, but they looked like hands, not the jaw-like weapons he remembered. Had that been a delusion in the middle of combat, or had they truly changed?

While looking at the hands, Slaten realized that he should search the body more carefully. The man carried a flint, an eating knife, and several other practical items. Mostly disappointing. But as Slaten reached inside the man's tunic, he found a spindle of metal, firmly tied to the interior by a string around one spherical end. He had seen such a thing a few times before. A mansthein tool that spanned the world in the blink of an eye.

"That is an injury worthy of a Bloodskin man!" The booming voice took him off guard and Slaten found that Hogowo stood beside him. A vicious gash in the other man's shoulder bared a bit of bone, yet he ignored it, instead jabbing a finger at Slaten's shoulder. "I thought I'd received a grave injury, but yours takes the prize!"

Slaten numbly stared at his shoulder and realized that it looked truly horrendous. Much of his shirt had been torn away and half his torso was covered in blood. It hurt even through the numbness, but Slaten realized that the injury was much less serious than it appeared. His defensive arts had protected him somewhat, even if the effort had exhausted him.

Hogowo didn't seem to require a response, wandering away to talk to the others. Many Bloodskin warriors seemed to be comparing injuries, and apparently more blood was more respectable. That struck him as madness, since in the absence of a healer surely even Bloodskin bodies would be at risk of death.

Chief Bufogu struck down the Catai and roared out his triumph, signaling the true end of the battle. Those Bloodskins who weren't comparing injuries - or bleeding out on the rocks - began to loot the wagons, calling out whenever they found something particularly valuable. Yet again, he saw that some of the fallen were stabbed by their own comrades, but only those who had already died.

None of that mattered to Slaten. He only wanted to sit down and focus on surviving his shoulder injury, yet his legs locked in place. After the rush of the battle, he found himself strangely apathetic. He had survived, but for what?

A practical part of his mind forced him to examine the battleground for a weapon to replace the one he had lost. Most of the mansthein used crude, cheaply forged swords that would not hold up well in combat between warriors. Slaten wandered to one of the wagons that appeared to be filled with weapons. The blood coating one half of his body seemed to grant him permission to step through the Bloodskin warriors, who let him take his pick.

Once he had an adequate weapon, Slaten considered if he could replace his clothes. His Oken mantle, which had served him well all throughout the Chorhan Expanse, was destroyed beyond repair. None of the wagons seemed to contain clothing, however, only weapons and other supplies.

And, strangely, a large quantity of steel, forged into bars for transport. The Bloodskins who discovered that several of the wagons contained only steel were furious, one hurling a bar high into the mountains. Slaten bent down to pick up one bar. Beyond being surprised at how heavy it was, he didn't know enough about unforged steel to be sure of its quality.

He couldn't find it in him to fight over the spoils with the others. Instead he merely stood on the sidelines, thinking again about the way Natala had stared at him. Finding the silver spindle made him think of Celivia as well. Was he cursed, that both of his recent relationships had ended with his betrayal?

Those thoughts would lead him to dark places, so Slaten forced himself to focus. He examined the pile of items that the raiders had thrown aside for anything that might be valuable. Strangely they seemed to ignore jewelry, though that held just as little value to him. They threw aside a few items that he picked up as potentially useful, but little of it registered.

Until he found himself staring at a Yenith board. A cleverly worked hinge allowed it to bend in half, forming a sort of case. When he opened it, he discovered that all the pieces lay within. The set was finely worked, something that would have been a source of pride back in any Oken village.

His first thought was that Natala would want to learn how to play Yenith. Immediately he recoiled against it, thinking of her betrayal. But in the end he took the board with him.

Chapter 19

-

"Three other clans that deserve mention are those with rising reputations that could become a threat in the future. The Skullcrusher clan has a fearsome reputation among raiders and are said to be marshaling strength for a major attack on their rivals. The Bloodskin clan is one of the few clans growing in number, with a particular tendency to target mansthein caravans. There are rumors of a Heartblood clan of all female warriors where men are subordinate, but we were unable to determine to what degree this clan serves as a cultural specter."

- Scholars of the Blue Mask

-

The tranquility of the village might not have taken Tani any closer to Mount Tmil, but it was wonderful for her soul. She could sleep mostly without worry in exchange for a little hunting and simple farm work. In the evenings she spoke with Cabari and Rubako or simply sat and let her sein soak in the calmness of village life.

She told herself that her waiting served an explicit purpose: she needed to understand the Steelbone clan before she ventured further. Though Cabari said that they were fortunate to have the clan as their protectors, her voice always carried a strange hesitation, and Rubako always looked away with a surly expression when she raised the subject.

When the raiders finally arrived, it was almost without warning: one of the village men herding woolly bicorns let out a call. Tani grabbed her weapons and leapt to her feet, only to see that no one else in the village reacted with panic. They simply went quiet, some hiding within their houses, some gathering materials, and some only standing in silence.

Not long after, the Steelbones strode into the village. They struck her as exactly the same as all the other raiders, unified only by gray cloth collars that she suspected were made from ombo wool. As the small group came to a halt in the center of the village, she reflected that they were perhaps younger than average, many of them roughly her age.

One man strode forward, clearly the leader. He was several years older than the others and leaner than she'd come to expect from raiders, yet he moved with unexpected grace. She realized he was also the first raider she'd seen wearing any jewelry, a pair of shining bracers around his bare upper arms. Even as she noted that he had piercing hazel eyes and a handsome jaw, she slipped a throwing knife into her hand.

"The time for payment has come!" He called into the village and then watched in satisfaction with his arms folded as several people emerged with bundles of garments and baskets of food. When they retreated, he frowned. "This isn't everything we agreed."

"Please, Mohuno, this is all we can spare." One of the older men wrung his hands on the edge of his outermost cloth, eyes firmly on the ground. "It has been a difficult spring."

Mohuno stepped forward toward the man, who flinched back, then shook his head. "If this is all you can spare, we will take no more. But if you bring us such excuses the next time we arrive..."

He left the threat hanging in the air and the old man nodded furiously, babbling gratitude. The Steelbone leader had already forgotten him, eyes sweeping over the village. Having seen how little the villagers had, Tani thought that what he offered was not protection but extortion. Though he didn't seem as violent as the other raiders, he carried that same arrogance.

"Have any of the raiding clans troubled you?" Mohuno asked, and the question seemed more than cursory. Tani had to admit that perhaps he offered some protection after all.

"There have been no raiders," the old man said, "but there wa-"

He cut off as an old woman elbowed him in the side, but it was too late. Mohuno focused on him sharply. "Someone else came?"

Though the old man didn't answer, his gaze did shift toward the house where Tani currently hid. That flicker of his eyes was enough for Mohuno to turn on them. From within, Rubako scowled and started to pick up his spear, but Tani couldn't allow them to suffer in any way for her. She emerged from her hiding place to stand in front of the house.

"I am merely a traveler in these lands." She kept her back straight and forced her hands to stay on her belt as all the raiders turned to look at her. "I have taken nothing from these people and I want no part of wars between raiding clans."

"Well, then you are welcome. Very welcome indeed." His eyes ran over her quickly, but she felt their every movement before he looked directly at her. "At what brings you to the mountains of the Steelbones?"

"If I refuse to answer, will you attack me?"

"Of course not. The Steelbones offer protection, not violence."

"It doesn't look that way to me."

To her surprise, Mohuno responded by grinning. He turned and waved to his men. "Find your hosts for the night and, as we always do-" The raider stopped to give her an exaggerated glance. "-do no harm to these peasants. Take nothing they do not offer and touch no one who does not wish it."

The small group of raiders moved into the village, immediately greeted by villagers who rushed to offer them food and lodging. None of them touched the weapons they carried, but there was no need. All of the force was built into the polite words of their leader, who Tani remained uncertain of. She could see either unknowing amusement or intentional mockery in those dancing eyes.

"You have a sharp tongue." He came to stand in front of her and she took a step back so that she wouldn't need to look too far upward at him. "I like that. Too many of the village girls are so shy and bashful."

Though she mistrusted him, Tani didn't see any urge toward violence in Mohuno's eyes. If he intended to argue, she would cooperate. "Because you arrive with large groups of trained warriors and the threat of abandoning them to raiders if they do not comply."

Anger flashed on his face only briefly, but it caught on the edges of her mind. "Every other village in the Sotunn Mountains either fights for their lives against other clans or suffers their violent raiding. I offer everyone in my territory protection at a fair price. You think me some brutal tyrant, but I am their guardian."

"For people who struggle to survive, does it matter whether their food is taken with violence or kindness?"

"That's a stupid question! If we raided violently, we would take more and leave many dead. Villages this small would cease to exist. We are the stones upon which they can build their homes."

"If you and all other raiders ceased to exist, their homes would not collapse. They would flourish."

Mohuno let out a laugh, the emotion appearing just as quickly as his anger. "And what a grand world that would be! If all warriors laid down their arms, we might build something truly great... but I do not think the clans will do that in my lifetime. And I do not think it is any different in your lands, not given the weapons and the sein you carry."

Tani stiffened, though because of what he said instead of his mockery. She had to admit that he was at least partially right, even if his view was wrongheaded. "Being a warrior does not mean living by taking from others. I have traveled to many lands and only here do you find raiding clans like these."

"I would like to visit those other lands. Perhaps I might even believe you. Tell me, are all women warriors in such places?"

"Many." The fact that he had not attacked her when she argued with him made part of Tani want to relax, which brought a different sort of tension. "You are not going to tell me that women cannot be warriors?"

"Some believe that. I did, once." Mohuno turned away from her to gaze to the north. "If you had lived in the mountains your entire life, you would know that the Steelbones once attacked travelers from the Maenhu, stealing their armor and weapons. But we took too much, and too quickly. One day they sent against us a mere three warrior errants, and they killed most of our tribe's strongest men. Those who I had thought were strength itself fell like animals."

When he didn't continue, Tani found herself prompting. "And those warriors were women?"

"It was impossible to tell, clad in their suits of metal. But I survived long enough to hide, and I saw when they removed their helms that two of the three were women. And even among our own people, I have seen that hot and cold blood flow together in most. So no, I will not tell you that you cannot be a warrior."

"If most of your clan's strongest warriors died, how did you survive?"

"A good question!" Mohuno grinned and spread his arms as he turned back to her, and only then did Tani realize that he'd baited her. "Normally, a broken clan would be destroyed by its neighbors. But I gathered the survivors, led them to safety, and rebuilt the Steelbone clan. Here, we have realized that the clans have much to learn from those outside our lands."

"I suppose that is admirable." Now that she had established her immediate safety, Tani found herself wanting nothing more to do with Mohuno. He was handsome, but she knew that he would be an immense source of frustration. "I apologize for condemning you. If you will leave me alone, I will bother you no more."

"Perhaps I would like to be bothered." He stepped forward again, so close that they nearly touched. Tani automatically put a hand to the hilt of her sickle knife.

"Is that the real reason you go to collect each payment? In the hope of forcing women to sleep with you?"

"Forcing? I've never needed to do such a thing in my life. This village may be too small to have many young women, but in others, volunteers willingly throw themselves at us."

"The same way they willingly give you their food?"

Mohuno smiled and shook his head. "You are stubborn, but you do not know our ways. These people lived in terror for generations before they came under our protection. Most of them have never gone far from their homes, so they are happy to warm a dashing young warrior."

His infuriating arrogance nearly made her snap back at him. Strangely, it was thoughts of Slaten that made her pause. He would say that they did not know the culture of the Sotunn Mountains and could not judge. She wasn't sure if she agreed with that, but she accepted that arguing with this raider would not accomplish anything. Besides, if she pushed too far she might find violence underneath that smile.

"I can see that you are not so impressed." Mohuno shook his head, still smiling. "But I am quite impressed, and now I'll not be content with some local village girl. If you refuse me, I'm going to have to fuck a bicorn."

Tani gaped at the sudden turn, which made him grin.

"You would probably be better conversation, but you see bicorns are very woolly indeed."

"I'd probably be better conversation?" She hadn't meant to answer, yet found herself responding to his provocation.

"Bicorns habitually butt heads with one another. For a brute like me, that's close enough."

Despite herself, Tani laughed, and when she saw his answering grin she didn't feel as frustrated as she should have. Mohuno was clearly arrogant, but it was not the stiff arrogance that she hated in so many men. He thought a great deal of himself without insisting that others do the same.

Compared to the Bloodskins or the Stormpeaks, it was acceptable.

"Come now," Mohuno said, putting a hand to his chest. "Are you going to leave a poor man to spend the night with bicorns?"

"I can see the passion in your eyes when you talk about them. Far be it from me to stand in the way of love." Her retort got a laugh from him and she took the opportunity to turn away and duck into the hut. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw that he had taken a step after her, but didn't follow. After shaking his head, he walked away.

Once inside, Tani breathed a sigh of relief, though for more complex reasons than she had expected.

Behind her, she saw the siblings watching her with considerable surprise. Rubako shook his head at her. "I wouldn't test him. All he cares about is enriching himself."

"Does he take more than he claimed?" Tani asked. Rubako just spat out the back door and then made his way outside. Cabari remained quiet, her eyes downcast, and Tani sat down beside her. She said nothing until eventually the other woman spoke.

"You really weren't afraid of him at all."

"Should I have been?"

The question hung in the air and Cabari didn't say any more, twisting her hands against one another. Tani carefully placed her hand over the other woman's and Cabari squeezed back before speaking. "You... were right. The Steelbones don't force themselves on anyone, at least I think they don't. But they wait and watch, and if no one distracts them they get drunk..."

"You don't need to say anything else if you don't want to." Despite Tani's words, and her desire to comfort Cabari, she did want to know the truth.

"No, I want... no one else will speak of it, and Rubako gets so angry..." Cabari slid a hand over Tani's to keep her arm in place. "I went last year. With Mohuno."

"You made the choice you needed to make. Was it...?"

"He wasn't unkind. Not very patient, but gentle. The elders have talked about how it used to be, and some women have said even their husbands would strike them... I've never been with anyone else." Cabari finally looked up at her, eyes heavy with guilt. "But when he looked at you, I was relieved that he'd forgotten about me."

Though Tani's heart ached for the other woman, a small part of her felt gratification that she had been right. She hated that part of herself, since it only wanted to use Cabari for her own ego, yet she couldn't deny it. Tani tried to tell herself that what mattered was that she understood fully now. Mohuno might not be as cruel as many, and he might not cause harm intentionally, but intentions meant little in this.

"I should have warned you," Cabari said. "If I'd been thinking, I would have known that you'd catch his eye, since you're so beautiful."

That made Tani's mind whip around to focus on the other woman. "Beautiful?"

"Oh yes. All warriors seem so healthy, so alive... and you all have such clear skin." Abruptly Cabari smiled with a bit of her old self and let go of her hand. "But I don't want you to think that I'm trying to draw you into my furs tonight."

Tani laughed and patted her hands. "Thank you for telling me, Cabari. I wish that I could do something to help you, but..."

"No, he was right. We would be destroyed if not for the Steelbones. I know you won't be with us for long, but I'm glad that you stayed with us."

What could be said to that? Tani wished that she could offer some encouragement, yet all the words that swam in her mind would either be false hope or condemn the life the other woman built for herself. It was not her place to tell these villagers how they should live. If she followed the Legend's path, she would simply drift past all these lives, having little impact on them.

A scream and then a cry of pain. Tani's body was on its feet before her mind fully recognized the sounds.

Though she hurried out the door, ready to have all of her worst fears confirmed, she forced herself to hesitate and see truly. She saw the body of a raider lying on the ground beside an injured villager, surrounded by more Steelbones carrying weapons. Yet the body wore different, rougher cloths, not like the Steelbones. Those carrying weapons hadn't attacked any villagers, they were defending them.

Mohuno crouched down beside the corpse, pulling at its cloths and glowering as if he could force it to answer him. "A Hardblood? Maybe a Skullcrusher? It doesn't matter: take the body and string it up at the edge of our territory. We can't let this happen again."

"What happened?" Tani approached him with her sickle knife still drawn, but when Mohuno rose to his feet he barely seemed to look at her at all.

"Someone attacked the village... just the village, not us. They'd be fools to attack us with just two scouts. That means this was nothing but chance, and if we had not been here, their raid would have been successful."

"No. I would have stopped them."

"Yes, I think you would have." Mohuno smiled briefly at her, then returned to intimidating the body. "Just two couldn't carry back much in the way of plunder. This had to be a statement. An insult to me, coming into my territory and killing my villagers..."

At that moment, another Steelbone raider stumbled back to the village, panting for breath. Mohuno whirled on him as if he could stare him into talking, but the man still took some time to recover before he gasped out words. "Sorry Mohuno... got away..."

"Dammit!"

The Steelbone leader roared out the word at the same moment his leg lashed out at the nearest fence. It was a wild movement born of anger, yet it shattered the beam of wood and left a huge gap in the fence. All of the bicorns could have escaped, though they stayed far away from the man clenching his fists and seething with rage.

"We need to move quickly." Though still furious, when he turned back to the other raiders his anger burned only in his eyes. "Send someone back for my uncle. Barricade the village in case there's a direct strike. Once the scouts have finished, pull everyone back into two groups."

"You think this was a trick?" one of the other Steelbones asked. Mohuno shook his head.

"This was an accident and gained them too little. But the one who survived must have seen our numbers. They'll either strike the village while I'm gone, or try to eliminate me here. Unless the scouts find them, we have to be prepared for both."

"Do we dig in here?"

"No. This little shithole is indefensible. Take everyone here and move them back to the village."

Though the Steelbones started to act, Tani found herself moving to stand in their way. A voice in her mind whispered that this was wasting her life for no reason, that she should leave and simply make her way to Mount Tmil. So she stayed in their path, even when Mohuno glared at her. "Wait. They threaten you here and you immediately flee?"

"I'm not a fool!" Though he snapped at her, hand on the sword at his side, he didn't threaten violence. "I'll not puff out my chest for someone else to stab. If this is an attack on me, the Steelbones need to respond with everything we have."

"But if they do mean to attack you, won't they expect you to do that? They'll always have the initiative unless you do something they won't anticipate." As her mind caught up to her principles, Tani began to hope that this wasn't hopeless. At least, she hoped that there could be a slim chance.

"What are you suggesting?"

"I have a question first. Whatever clan is attacking, do you stand a chance against them?"

Mohuno waved the question aside irritably. "They won't send their whole clan, not and leave their own village vulnerable. But they can afford to send their strongest men, and we have only a few. The battle will come down to who can make best use of their strongest."

"All the more reason to do something unexpected. What if you let them see you pull back your warriors, then ambushed them here?"

"Bold, but your words mean nothing if you are just a traveler." He stepped directly in front of her, eyes burning down, and this time she didn't step away. "If we let the villagers stay where they are, will you fight alongside us?"

Tani took a deep breath and stared back. "I will."

Chapter 20

-

"Now, as we close out this survey, scholars from across the Maenhu beg the councils to consider unity in matters that concern all three nations. We need not tell you of the rising threats from Fareshel or Eltar Trathe, or indeed from the growing mansthein presence on our continent. The Maenhu may always remain three nations, but we would better be able to face these threats if we cooperated in such matters as one Maenhu. Please consider this a first step toward such an alliance."

- Scholars of the Blue Mask

-

Slaten winced as Laeri prodded at his shoulder, feeling her sein run through his skin like knives. He could smell fire this time, too, suggesting that her own sein had developed or she was doing something different. Though Laeri looked sadder than when they had left, she also seemed harder. Once she had found it awkward just to treat any chest injuries, but now she poked at him without concern.

"This injury has healed quite well." She smiled at him and patted the ragged scar across his shoulder and upper chest. "If I had been there I could have prevented this scar, but the muscle all grew back well. The Bloodskins seem to have unusually strong bodies."

"I think it's an art of some kind." He stopped short of explaining that he had stolen it for his own use. Though Laeri might be able to give him some insight into their skill, she might also carelessly reveal that fact.

"Oh, it certainly is. We call - umm, I mean we Estronese - we call Corans mudmen because of the brute force they use, but this is something else. I know that there are purely physical arts, as some of the greatest mage warriors use them, but I don't know any details about them."

"Estronese warriors have something similar?"

"It's okay to tell you because I don't know very much, I suppose? I hear that the sein of some warriors becomes so powerful that they need to reforge themselves into something more than mere flesh." Laeri giggled to herself. "But it's like the Bloodskins just skipped all of the sein training and made their bodies even more mere flesh."

Their path might not match Estronese doctrine, but it seemed brutally effective. In any case, Slaten was mostly glad to have Laeri confirm that his injury had healed. Though he'd tried to clean and bandage it carefully, since he didn't fully trust the Bloodskin arts, he hadn't been sure if there were any lingering problems.

As he stood up and pulled on his new shirt, Laeri lingered nearby as if she didn't want him to go. Slaten glanced out the door toward the great hall, where the feast had already begun, but he didn't truly want to join it. Instead he turned back with another question. "Did you notice anything else wrong with my body? I've been tired and easily exhausted recently."

Laeri frowned, placed a hand over his heart, then shook her head. "You're healthy, Slaten. Very healthy. Better than the last time I checked you, you know? It feels like you tore open your sein channels in a fight, but your training flow is good, even for Estronn, so they've grown back stronger."

"It isn't a problem at all times, and I was able to hike back even with the injury. But during combat, I found myself exhausted when I should have been able to fight on for much longer."

"I'm not sure, but that sounds like simply exhausting your sein. Some people do that when they're first learning and they attempt arts that are too difficult for them."

The greatest change in him had been the new Bloodskin arts, so perhaps they were to blame. Either he worked them improperly or they were simply too demanding for him at the time. Yet he felt as though there might be something else to it.

Before he could ask any further questions, one of the younger men of the village appeared outside the door. Though he still seemed to dislike the outsiders, there was a bit of fearful respect in his eyes now. "Chief Bufogu says that you should come to the great hall. Something's going to happen."

"Alright, I'll come." Slaten managed a smile for Laeri and ducked under the door. The younger Bloodskin quickly departed back into the village, so Slaten simply made his own way to the great hall.

There, the returning Bloodskin warriors celebrated their victory with a feast. Slaten thought the atmosphere held an air of relief as well, because following their victory they had been forced to creep back to their territory in fear of encountering a stronger force. They had successfully stolen a large amount of food and fine goods, however, so now they celebrated.

As Slaten sat down at one end of the table and began to eat, he noted that the clan occupied the table more sparsely than before. No one had counted their casualties, to his knowledge, but the Bloodskins had lost more than a few. He wondered if they celebrated so raucously in spite of that or because of it.

Substantial food had passed his lips before he thought very much about what he was eating. Tani would have been disappointed in him. He noted that there wasn't any Coran bread on the table and there hadn't been for his entire time in the village. They tended to favor meat whenever they could get it, and whatever fruits or vegetables were sweetest. It made for repetitive fare, but it was nourishing enough, and that was what mattered to him in the end.

Some time after he arrived, Chief Bufogu slammed his drinking horn against the table for attention and then stood. Once every eye turned to him, he began speaking.

"The scouts we left behind have returned, and everything is as we hoped: the Stormpeaks have been drawn into war." Cheers erupted around the table, and Bufogu let them continue for a time before raising a hand. "The Deathspawn have been drawn into battle as well, so our victory is even greater than we expected!"

"How soon can we travel to Mount Tmil?" Melal spoke loudly, but for once received little support from the warriors around the table. Having just finished a grueling journey, the Bloodskins displayed little eagerness to throw themselves into another.

"When the scouts reveal that both sides have mobilized and begun their infighting, we will depart." Bufogu waved the matter aside, recognizing that he had the upper hand for the moment. "For now, the truth is that the Bloodskin clan has lost many warriors. We need to restore our numbers."

"I volunteer!" Melal struck the table with both hands, pushing himself to his feet. "I have completed your tests and fought in your raids... I wish to become one of you!"

A wave of wild cheering cascaded around the table, warriors pounding their mugs on the table and shouting. It was more enthusiasm than Slaten had expected, and even Chief Bufogu seemed surprised. His eyes moved over the table quickly, however, and he adopted a false smile.

"Then step forward, Melal. This is your last day as a lowlander!"

The entire body of warriors surged upward and Slaten followed, though he wasn't sure what was to come. They moved to an empty space in the great hall and several pushed Melal to stand in the center of a ring that soon formed. Slaten looked at the bloodstain on the floor beneath him, wondering if it wasn't the result of a fight as he'd assumed.

Someone brought a capra into the chamber, the beast lashing out against its bonds. Unlike the tame capra Slaten knew from the Expanse, this one had long claws that looked suited for gripping rock. Where the domesticated beasts might be ornery at times, this one gnashed its teeth and tried to twist its head to impale the man that carried it with both horns.

"Kill the capra with your bare hands," Bufogu said, "and let its blood cover you. Then you will be one of us."

Melal didn't hesitate. As soon as the beast was let free, he reached down to grab its head. Though it tried to impale his hand on one horn, then bite him, Melal easily outmaneuvered and then overpowered the capra. It had never been a real challenge, as the capra was only a simple animal, no match for a sein-trained warrior.

Once he had it pinned to the ground, Melal looked around the circle and then tore out the beast's throat. When the Bloodskins began to cheer, he hefted the corpse up over his shoulders, letting its blood run down over his head. The cheers grew louder and louder until at last Melal's face and shoulders were covered in the blood and it abruptly grew silent.

At that time, Bufogu stepped forward and struck him in the chest lightly. "From this day forward, you are a man of the Bloodskin clan!"

Letting out a triumphant roar, Melal thrust his fists over his head and the Bloodskins roared back their approval. As he watched, Slaten wondered just what those words actually meant. Would Melal truly follow their customs, stay in their village, and fight for their causes? Part of him worried about that possibility, but he remembered the terrible light of past Heroes. Melal might be enamored with the clan for now, but it wouldn't last.

Even if he was sure he understood what this ritual of identity actually meant, Slaten would not have joined the clan. In turn, no one asked him. He started to retreat from the room when Bufogu shouted out over the clamoring warriors to get their attention.

"Today we have one new Bloodskin, but we need many more! Now that we have feasted, I tell you to go to your women! Give them the next generation of Bloodskin men!"

That suggestion was met with more approval and the warriors rapidly left the hall. Slaten glanced back at Melal, wondering if he would simply leave covered in blood like that, but decided that he didn't care. Before anyone could confront him, he returned to his room.

Other partitioned sections filled with Bloodskin women, but his remained empty. He sat down against the wall and just let his mind cool after the heat of the great hall and the constant cheering. Part of him had hoped that Natala would be waiting and part of him feared it. Though he couldn't forget their previous conversation, in a sense he'd been expecting her to be waiting for him, smiling like before. Would it be better if she simply never came again?

Unfortunately, his silence was broken when he began hearing doors slam elsewhere in the room. The partition walls were very thin, so he could tell that warriors were rushing into the chambers, some carrying their women with them. The noises that would soon leak through the walls would only worsen his mood, so he rose to his feet.

Just as he began to leave, Natala's shadow slipped around the corner to his chamber.

He hesitated, then stepped aside to let her in. As she walked to the corner, she spoke quietly. "Thank you. If you don't need anything from me, I will stay silent and not bother you."

She shrank in on herself without another word. As he looked back at her, Slaten realized that she would do exactly that, remaining utterly silent unless he spoke to her. If he did nothing, he would get what part of him wanted and never have to address her again. In effect, never have to deal with the question. He would get his excuse and the training he wanted without any trouble.

Though Slaten knew he couldn't fully trust her and didn't consider himself skilled at mending bridges, he decided that he had to try. He sat down on the bear fur and pulled the Yenith board from his pack. After carefully opening the hinge and removing the pieces stored within, he began placing them on the board. Natala couldn't help but look, then broke her silence.

"You want to taunt me to speak first? Fine. I'm interested."

He ignored her taunt and instead asked a simple question. "Have you ever played Yenith before?"

"No. I've never seen a board quite like that."

"Most of them are flat, with colored squares to represent the mountains. This one uses raised squares to show them directly, and I've seen some that are ornately carved. But that doesn't matter, because the rules are always the same. First, this piece is the soldier..."

As he explained each of the pieces, Natala moved closer to sit on the opposite side of the board. He wasn't sure if he was drawing her out or falling into her trap, but for the moment he simply set those thoughts aside. Just as if he was playing a game of Yenith, he maintained one thought process while holding another part of himself back and considered strategy.

Natala absorbed the rules immediately, never needing him to repeat anything. Though Slaten wished that he'd found a Shiil board instead, he'd enjoyed Yenith enough when playing with Eraes. According to her, it was an ancient and subtle game based on a battle that had long since been lost to time. He could only vouch for the "subtle" part of that and told Natala nothing but the rules.

When the explanation finished, she moved one of her pieces without saying a word. Slaten responded and they played in complete silence. Around them grunts and moans and screams penetrated through the walls, but within the room there was only the sound of marble pieces touching the board.

In the end, Slaten won by dominating the corners instead of competing for the mountain. It was a trick that Eraes had used on him several times, and though Natala recognized it, she was too late. He used his position to isolate her elite pieces and remove them one by one until all three lay on the side of the board. She sat back, frowning and staring at the squares.

"Did you let me win?" he asked. She looked up at him without expression.

"Would you believe anything I said?"

"I chose to ask you."

A smile of some kind. Natala briefly glanced at him before she returned her attention to the pieces. "You won fairly. This is like the design of my version of Neyet, but vastly more complex. I think I could do better the next game, but first I need some time to think."

"Why do you stay in the Bloodskin village?"

"Lack of options." Though she still didn't look at him, her tone wasn't as flat as before. "If I waited for a large raid and traveled with the others to a trading point, the best I could do is join another clan. Some might be better, but some would be worse. Most likely no one would care, but someone might follow to try to punish me. But regardless, the chance of being killed by a warrior would remain high."

"You're an intelligent woman, Natala, and you know it. You don't think you could use that to make your way in the world?"

"Intelligence is a trait with limited value."

"That isn't true." Slaten spoke directly to try to shock a reaction out of her, but her neutral expression turned aside the thrust like armor. "If you leave the Sotunn Mountains with us, you'd be able to build a life for yourself easily. Your mind alone is an asset, and you could learn many skills as easily as you learned the rules of Yenith."

"Limited value, not no value." Finally she looked up at him with hard eyes. "My mother was also an intelligent woman. Years after she bore me, she tried to attach herself to Chief Bufogu, to control him into making her his only woman. I don't know if she moved too quickly or if it was simply a fit of rage, but Bufogu splattered her mind over the rocks with one blow."

There was nothing he could say to such a story, and it was clear that she didn't want sympathy. After a time, Slaten decided that a question was safest. "You said years after... the Chief isn't your father?"

"No. My father was a warrior of the clan, and though he lived with my mother when she was very young, I think they cared for each other in their way. He was perhaps more intelligent than she was... and it only took one bad raid to end his life. According to the others, a Wahleenese errant killed him in a single blow, as easily as if he was an unarmed woman."

"An errant?"

"That is what they call warriors in the nations north of the mountains." Natala's gaze shifted to the side, through the partition walls. "I have never seen one in person, but I have an illustrated book with a drawing of errants. They wear large armor, completely different from our warriors. There's a Bloodskin saying that armor is the skin of a coward, but I know that they flee when the most powerful of errants hunt them."

It was the first that he had heard of them, though he did have the general understanding that the north contained many armored warriors. He found his attention focusing on the first part of what she had said. "You said you had a book. Can you read?"

"Would it make you happy to teach me? One more way that I would be dependent on you?"

Slaten heard the bitterness in her voice and could think of no way to get past it. Instead, he merely stared back at her. Often when he stared, others assumed he was absent-minded or dim-witted, but to his surprise Natala shifted back. Uncomfortable, or she wanted him to think she was uncomfortable. She met his gaze with something that might have been an apology, though she uttered no apologies when she spoke again.

"I can read Coran and Reili. That is not an unusual ability here, because the Bloodskins sometimes need to use messages or read from items they've stolen. The men have declared reading to be the work of women, so many of us can."

"Do you have a store of books you've been hiding from me?"

That pulled an apparently authentic smile from her. "How many books do you think they bring back from raids? Occasionally we receive a large and ornate book that can be traded, but those books are rarely useful for anything else. I've read all of them, and traded for more when I can, but it is... not a practical skill here."

Slaten looked at her for a moment before realizing that he was tilting his head the way she imitated. He briefly became distracted by thoughts of whether or not that was a mistake before simply pushing through them. "It seems useful to me. That is the only way that you know of the errants."

"You're right. The artifacts that the men bring back have always been my only insight into the outer world." Natala gestured down at the Yenith board between them. "So many beautiful objects like this one, displaying skill and craft far beyond ours. Since I was a child, those objects have been proof that the Bloodskins are not truly the mightiest of clans, but carrion birds feasting off the scraps of real nations."

"That is... a rather harsh way of expressing it. But yes, there is far more out there. I have traveled much further than this village and I still feel as though I am ignorant of most of the world."

"You've seen far more than I have."

"Yet you don't believe me when I say that strength does not rule everywhere."

Natala paused at that, but not to think: she was watching his face closely. Slaten doubted that he could hide his reactions from her, so he just let himself feel all of his ambivalent emotions about their relationship. She couldn't read the reactions on his face if he himself had no coherent response. He thought that there might have been a ghost of a smile, then she spoke.

"Many nights ago, you expressed some very high ideals about the way the world can be. I believe that you may be right on the surface, but underneath there is always violence. It is far too simple a solution to ever be absent from our lives."

"I don't know if that's true, but I believe that even if violence is the foundation of other beliefs, those beliefs still exist. They have substance enough to matter."

"Perhaps."

He drew back, considering her tone. "Are you only saying that to agree with me?"

"Perhaps." Natala laughed softly and began returning the Yenith pieces to their proper places. "If what I want matters, what I want right now is to play again. You will not defeat me so easily a second time."

He won the second game, this time switching his strategy and controlling the central mountain from the valleys. But he lost the third game very badly, and found that he didn't care.

~ ~ ~

Despite himself, Slaten found that he was happy in the Bloodskin village. He still spent his days training, and though he hadn't discovered the exact problem with his stamina, he enjoyed the work for its own sake. Since the Bloodskin arts had proved themselves in combat, he practiced them more fully. Though he didn't become as muscular as most Bloodskin warriors, he could feel the difference in strength.

Nights he spent with Natala, slowly finding new limits. Once he decided to separate himself into a skeptical core and an aspect of himself that behaved as if he trusted her, their interactions became much more relaxed. Natala certainly seemed more comfortable as well, insisting that they play Yenith every night even though she almost always beat him.

The one negative lay in his companions. Melal enjoyed his new status as a member of the clan by sleeping with multiple different women, including one case where he fought another warrior over someone. As he did so, Laeri grew more and more miserable. She never came to Slaten for reassurance, but he could see her expression and Natala relayed how depressed she behaved.

That night Natala had yet to arrive, so he simply sat and focused on his body. He had noticed that Bloodskin warriors rarely tested their strength by lifting heavy objects, unlike Corans, yet they regularly flexed their muscles. What he had thought of as vanity was actually an effective exercise, their "hot blood" fighting itself and leaving the muscles in considerable tension.

Though that method did not work for him, Slaten had adapted it. He tensed first his toes, then made the point of tension slowly move up his legs and through the rest of his body, using only a few muscles at a time. More importantly, he let his sein flow along with the movements. In his legs, he brought to mind countless memories of footwork. As he moved higher, he let those memories flow into the ache he felt after a long run. With each part of his body he tested, he embedded his sein deeper into his very flesh.

"You look busy." Natala leaned in, watching him. Slaten took a deep breath and let the tension slowly recede from his entire body.

"I was only waiting for you. Please, come in."

"Good. I have been thinking about tonight and I want to play Yenith right away."

As they set up the board, Slaten examined her closely. "I'm not sure I understand why you still enjoy this. You know that you're going to win. Do you just enjoy defeating me?"

"Not at all." She gave him a smile that was so much like their time before that he tensed. "I feel as though I'm still learning how to play, and with each game I understand something new. I have tried playing both sides in my mind, but I always make better progress when I have another mind to test my thoughts against."

They played their first game quietly, Slaten focusing and doing as well as he could. He nearly won, as Natala was attempting a strange strategy where she kept many of her pieces bunched together. It disrupted his own plans for a new strategy, leaving him wanting another game.

Before they could set up the board again, they began to hear a rhythmic slamming from a nearby partition. Not long after, it was joined by the sound of a woman moaning. Despite many nights ignoring such sounds, Slaten still found himself trying to turn away from it, uncomfortable with the loud display of something that should be private.

"Well, they're both trying rather hard." Natala cocked an ear to the wall and then shook her head. "I think he's trying to thrust a hole through the floor."

"Both trying...?"

"Her performance. From the sound of it, he walked in, removed his clothes, and began thrusting. You don't think those moans are real, do you?"

"I wasn't sure." Slaten had a dim awareness that women sometimes faked their pleasure, but did not consider himself any expert on the subject. "You can tell the difference?"

"Not from the sound alone. But I know these women, and I know how these encounters usually go. She moans to flatter him, and to make it end sooner."

"It is... rather loud." As they listened, her moans turned into screams. "Is it an insult, of a sort? Fooling men with such an extreme performance?"

"For some, yes. Don't worry, Slaten. If we had..." She stopped speaking immediately, realizing that she had made a mistake, but it was too late. He understand what she had meant to say and still insisted.

"What would you have done?"

"I would not have acted that way, because you don't think you can conquer the world with your cock. It would have been a realistic imitation to leave both of us happy."

An imitation. Slaten felt another surge of anger, frustratingly combined with a renewed awareness of Natala's body. When they played Yenith, he easily submerged himself in the mental activity so that he rarely thought about the fact that they were alone together in a small room. Yet now that awareness twisted together with his memories of her deception to become something truly ugly.

If he allowed it to grow, he didn't want to know what it would become. Slaten closed his eyes and spoke, his voice thick. "You didn't want that then, and you don't want it now. If you want me to trust you, you need to tell me if you will ever want that."

"Never."

He blinked, surprised at how quickly her answer came, not to mention how the blunt negative grated against his Oken upbringing. It wasn't that she was adamant in her refusal, and he saw real concern in her eyes. Just as before, she worried about how he would react. The difference was that this time, she was honest with him from the beginning... or at least she wanted the appearance of honesty.

Given that she was fully aware of his skepticism, she would never attempt such overt manipulation again. If she meant to deceive, it would be logical to say something that seemed to work against her. Indeed, that might be the only way that she could reach past his defenses, and it had nearly worked.

Or, if she had meant to be honest, she would do the same thing...

"I'm sorry, Slaten, but I wanted to tell you the truth. Now, I need you to tell me what you're thinking. Though I have sometimes entertained the fantasy that I can read men's emotions from their faces, people are not so consistent or rational as that. Please." She looked toward him with real desperation, or a good imitation of it. Either way, he realized that it might not matter.

"I'm not sure if that was calculated to deceive me again." He met her gaze and, as his thoughts came together, decided to merely express them. "But I realized that your fear of violent retaliation is unquestionably real, which means that a degree of trust is implicit in your truthfulness. Even if you revealed that trust in order to manipulate me, a deceptive trust is still a step closer to an honest relationship. So it would be equally true to say that I was manipulating you."

Natala grinned for a moment, he thought honestly pleased. Soon after, however, her smile faded to wistful embers. "I did wonder if it might be different, with you. I enjoy so many things about the time we spend together, I thought that I might enjoy that too. But I feel no different. I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"You may not be a Bloodskin man, but you are a man. Since I like you, I would prefer that you had a partner in the furs who made you happy. Laeri, perhaps."

The abrupt turn forced a snort from him and he caught a glimpse of a sly grin from Natala. That playful manipulation seemed much more authentic than when she was being fully serious, and for the moment, he didn't care if it wasn't truthful. Given Natala's mind, perhaps the closest thing she had to truth was countless layers of different games.

"You didn't object earlier," she said. "I had anticipated that, but I wasn't certain. Because Bloodskin women exist for only a few purposes, I think being honest about myself would be seen as... monstrous."

Slaten merely shrugged. "Some fires burn hotter. Some burn in different directions. I would be surprised if some did not burn in directions I had never considered."

She smiled at him and he smiled back. Part of him wondered if she had designed this moment of connection, since it mirrored her earlier deceptions. Yet she did seem pleased at his acceptance. If she was faking that connection, that was her loss.

The moment was somewhat marred by the thumping and screaming, which renewed themselves louder during their lull.

Still smiling, Natala replaced the pieces on the board and began the game with her first move. When Slaten picked up his behemoth to respond, however, Natala let out a long sultry moan. He very nearly dropped the piece and stared at her.

"What are you doing?"

"If they're going to disrupt our night, I'm going to disrupt theirs." Her eyes gleamed with malicious glee. "Something to make her wonder and him question himself. Oooh, yes..."

Though Slaten tried to ignore her and play Yenith, it was nearly impossible. Even knowing the truth, part of his mind told him that Natala's gasping and moaning sounded completely authentic. They were barely distinguishable from those he remembered from his adolescent fumbling, perhaps slightly exaggerated.

Most irritating of all, Natala continued to play perfectly while he struggled to focus.

Refusing to let her keep the upper hand, Slaten receded within himself to a mindset of cold, sharp steel. He knew that other men experienced the world differently, but when he was in combat, everything else fell away. A woman could attack him stark naked and his mind would only consider how best to kill her. Though he had always received negative reactions when he told the truth of that to other men, it was part of him.

Now he turned that cold focus toward the board between them. Though Slaten did not consider himself a brilliant player, he had been thinking about the game. He remembered how Eraes had spoken about truly advanced strategies that stalled present conflicts in order to gain a subtle, almost imperceptible advantage in future board positions.

Piece by piece, he laid claim to a far future board. An elite one space too far, a behemoth on the edge of the mountain instead of in the valley, a scythe slightly vulnerable but not worth striking. None of them offered any immediate advantage, but many moves ahead they would matter.

Finally he moved off the mountain and claimed Natala's behemoth. He watched her face and almost believed that he could see her mind rapidly come to the realization that her planned retaliation would leave her vulnerable, then realize how precisely all of his pieces had been placed. For a moment, he saw her truly stunned.

Then she threw back her head and let out a louder moan. "Oh, yes! Just like that!"

Even while mimicking pleasure, she began a ruthless counter-attack that pushed his preparations to the limit. Somehow he managed to hold on to his advantage and won the game with only a few pieces remaining, yet he only cared about that moment of surprise and, he thought, actual pleasure.

That night when they went to sleep, she climbed under the same blanket without touching him. For once, he didn't consider whether it might be another subtle manipulation and simply drifted into deep slumber. Natala fell asleep first.

Chapter 21

-

"The Council of Wahleen thanks the Scholars of the Blue Mask but publicly and unequivocally rejects any proposed alliance. It is absurd to speak of three nations sharing the burden of Deathspawn armies when they occupy only one. If the raiders in the east are defeated, it will be by the strength of our steel alone."

- Wahleenese response to the Scholars of the Blue Mask

-

As Tani waited beneath the earth, she wondered how confidently she could use the spear in her hands. Yes, she would fight. She had made that decision when she agreed to the Steelbone plan, and made it again every day she remained with them. When the time came, she would fulfill her role as best she could. But the spear didn't feel right under her fingers the way her knives did.

The fact that she held the spear, and that they'd used this plan at all, was entirely based on her participation. Sitting in the hole in the rock with a canvas over her, she could hear little and see nothing. However, she kept her eyes closed and her sein still, trying to expand her senses as far as she could from the village.

Her perception might still be limited, but if everything went as Mohuno expected, it wouldn't be difficult to find her target.

Tani's fingers slipped on the shaft of the spear and she carefully wiped off her sweat. She was well aware that she fought one group of raiders in the service of another group. All that kept her on her path was the fact that the villagers had been supportive of the plan. This was their home, after all, modest as it was. Cabari had affirmed that they didn't want to relocate, so Tani was glad that she had stepped forward.

Being glad to take this role was another thing, and she yet again readjusted her hands on the poisoned spear. The Steelbones refused to tell her anything about the fresh coat of poison on the tip of the spear, though she suspected that they had not been the ones to create it. Whatever its origins, the poison was clearly very valuable, designed for use against powerful warriors.

She had coated one of her own knives in the remnants of it, when the Steelbones had turned aside.

Overhead she heard shouts of alarm and Tani stiffened, casting aside all unnecessary thoughts. More important than the shouting and the first cry of pain, she heard the sound of a cockatrice. A perfectly ordinary sound, and less telling than the cry of a hawk... but the village kept no cockatrices. That signal meant that their opponent was strong, or at least close enough to what they expected that she should execute the plan.

Despite the urge to open her eyes, Tani closed them more firmly and focused her senses. A small number of sein motes sped toward the village at the speed of trained warriors. She could smell scorched mint and knew that some of the Steelbones had tried and failed to stop them. All she could do was sit and wait as they fell until the perfect moment came.

Combat peeled away most of the others and Tani completely lost track of those fights. One heavy point of sein plunged onward, toward her hiding spot. That would be one of the Hardbloods' stronger warriors, and her only target.

When the heavy point neared her, Tani burst through the canvas overhead and thrust with all the sein she could muster.

Her senses only caught up after the spear tip had penetrated flesh. Had she gauged wrong or struck an ally, they would already be dead. Instead Tani found that her spear dug into the shoulder of an unfamiliar raider. Even taken off guard by her carefully practiced ambush, he had managed to turn aside, so her spear only caught him in the arm.

But it had bitten deep, and she saw blood staining his clothes.

"You cowardly bitch!" The warrior roared at her, staring at his shoulder in shock.

"I onl-" Her attempt to stall him by speaking failed when he attacked, a vicious assault with an axe in each hand.

Tani abandoned the spear immediately, retreating at full speed, and it still nearly wasn't enough. Without time for the poison to spread through his body, he was a monstrously powerful warrior. She hadn't even bought time for herself to draw any throwing knives. The very most she could manage was raising her sickle knife, but it defended her for only one strike before it was knocked from her hands.

At that moment the others struck, Steelbone raiders launching spears from all sides. The warrior managed to spin aside from all but one, which dealt only a glancing blow, but it earned her time to retreat to a safe distance. When the Hardblood warrior tried to pursue, they descended on him from all sides.

Though she didn't want to take her eyes away from him, Tani tried to sneak a glimpse at the rest of the battle. It seemed that the strongest had been traveling with a few lesser warriors. Some lay dead outside the village, while Mohuno fought another on the path leading up to it. But as they had hoped, they could turn their united strength against a single powerful scout.

It might not be enough. Tani saw one of the Steelbones go down and the enemy raider immediately lunged down to finish him. A throwing knife flew from her hand automatically. He bashed it aside contemptuously, stalled for only a moment, which was just long enough for the other Steelbones to surround him again.

She found herself wondering about that automatic throw. Tactically, it had been a good decision, yet she questioned if more Steelbones in the world was actually a good thing. In the end, simple survival won out: unless she gave everything she had, the Hardblood warrior might fight his way through all of them to reach her.

He did seem to be slowing slightly, perhaps from the poison or perhaps from the collection of injuries. But though the Steelbones had scored his body in several places, he still fought fiercely, while three of them were down. Tani saw that Mohuno wouldn't arrive in time and realized that she was their only chance to change the momentum of the fight.

Tani cupped her poisoned knife between her hands and exhaled onto it. She had wanted to save the poison for a later time, but there might be no later. Instead she breathed her will into the knife, then held it in one hand while she drew three knives in the other.

With a loud cry, the Hardblood warrior pushed aside his opponents. His gaze fixed on her and he crossed the distance between them with terrifying speed. Tani hurled all three of her knives in swift succession and he knocked each one aside with his spinning axes.

Her fourth knife flew out with everything she had. She saw his eyes widen, and his axe nearly rose in time, but the knife slipped past him and into his neck.

The warrior stumbled backward, choking curses that came out as blood. He tugged her knife from his neck and it fell in a red shower, but when he clamped his hand over the injury, he staunched the wound. Slowly he straightened, glaring at her in pure hatred. Surely he couldn't survive such an injury?

Though he advanced on her and she fumbled for her remaining knives, at that moment two Steelbones struck from behind. The Hardblood warrior managed to knock one aside, but the other got an axe into his shoulder. He tried to fight back, but his movements had clearly slowed as the poison coursed through his body from two different wounds.

Eventually he collapsed in a pool of his own blood as the Steelbones continued to strike at him. Tani only stared until her sickle knife abruptly appeared in her vision, handle-first.

"That was well done." Mohuno gave her a serious nod as she accepted her weapon. "If we had ambushed him alone, we would likely have died."

"So we..." Her throat was painfully dry, forcing her to swallow. "We killed one of their best?"

"Yes, and without losing any of our strongest. But they won't know that until too late, and with each loss, this fight becomes worth less and less to them." Mohuno seemed entirely pleased by the results, and she had to admit that it had gone well. From what she could see, only one Steelbone raider had been killed, and no villagers.

"It worked thanks to me. You promised..."

"Yes, if you insist." Mohuno rolled his eyes and turned to the other raiders, beginning to give the orders to evacuate the villagers.

He had been absolutely insistent that they and their animals remain as normal, to help lure in one of the Hardblood clan's powerful scouts. With this victory, however, the same trick would never work again. Tani felt a slight sense of satisfaction as she saw the villagers slowly make their way from their houses to safer caverns. They took their animals with them, the bicorns on leashes and the ombos in cages. Though those might seem unimportant compared to human lives, Tani knew that their livelihoods depended on their flocks.

Tani's reflections were interrupted when another of the raiders approached. She saw the steel in his hands before she realized that he had collected her throwing knives. It took her a moment to clear her throat and then accept them. "Ah, thank you."

"He would have killed us," the young raider said as he moved away. It was likely the only thanks that she would receive from them, but she would accept it.

"Tani, thank you!" Cabari rushed up to her and gave her a relieved hug. "You moved so quickly, I could barely see you! I was afraid you might die at any moment..."

"We survived, but they'll send more." Tani tried to gently pull Cabari away. "You need to get to safety as soon as possible. We don't know how long it will be before they arrive."

Cabari nodded her understanding and moved away to join the others. That should have left Tani in a positive mood, but instead she realized that Mohuno stood nearby with a smirk on his face. When she glared at him, he simply raised his eyebrows.

"Now do you see why the women of these villages are happy to throw themselves at us? They're only too glad to be with their savior... and believe me, I never leave them disappointed. Every woman who has ever been with me has found her own pleasure before I took mine."

Tani snorted. "Sure of that, are you?"

"Of course. I was in quite a good position to hear their cries, after all."

"You're too smart to believe everything you hear, Mohuno." She knew that it would probably be easiest to let him boast and simply focus on the battle, yet he always brought out such strong feelings in her. So instead she turned to him and caught his gaze. "They know that you will not leave them alone until you've heard what you want, so they put on an act."

Infuriatingly, he just grinned. "With all of my experience, you think I cannot tell the difference?"

"If you've only heard false cries, how would you know?"

Mohuno took a step toward her, that quick anger flashing on his face again. But all at once, he relaxed and only gave her a lazy smile. "With all your fire, when you finally come to my furs, I will be sure that you came willingly."

Tani only scowled at him. The most frustrating aspect was that some piece of her could imagine it, and his constant advances kept the subject on her mind instead of letting her be only a warrior. Had he been a less arrogant man, she might have accepted. As it was, she knew he would be far too smug for her to gain any satisfaction from the act.

Or so she told herself. Whenever she saw a flash of anger on his face, a knife dug deeper in her gut...

All the villagers were safely hidden in their caves by the time the outer scouts reported seeing Hardblood warriors... but not for long. Mohuno had hoped that they would have most of a day to recover, but now they faced the next force with fewer warriors. Many refused to retreat, but some who were heavily injured went to join the villagers.

As soon as they confirmed the direction, the entire force moved to hide themselves in the hills to the south, almost out of sight of the village. It seemed that Mohuno had predicted their tactics accurately: the Hardbloods rushed from the south, intending to deal a devastating blow to the territory and retreat before anyone could retaliate. With luck, they would not be able to destroy even a single village and lose so many in their assault that they abandoned the attack.

When they hid, however, they faced north and waited. The Hardbloods approached, letting out earsplitting war cries, yet the Steelbones remained silent in their hiding places. Whatever his other failings, Mohuno had done a good job at transforming his raiders into a disciplined force. Even when the Hardbloods began rushing past them, they made not a sound.

Until the enemy was finally past, and then they struck from behind.

The strongest of the Hardblood warriors noticed the attack and turned, but none of the spears had been aimed at them. In the reverse of the expected strategy, Mohuno had ordered his warriors to strike for the weakest of the enemy. Tani let fly with a knife and saw it dig deep into the eye of one turning warrior, dropping him to the ground.

Only a smaller number of Hardbloods remained. They would be the most powerful, perhaps more than the Steelbones could manage, but at least they would be outnumbered. Keeping them on the defensive was the only way they could defeat a superior force.

Unfortunately, Tani did not know the Hardbloods and in the chaos of the battle it was difficult to determine how many of them were truly strong. At least two, which made the battle difficult indeed. If there were three, then their only chance was if one fell and the others chose to retreat.

While the warriors rushed down from the hills to clash with one another, Tani remained in the heights. From there, she could more easily choose her targets. Since she had only a few throwing knives and retrieving them would be dangerous, she needed to make each throw count.

One stuck in a thigh, allowing a Steelbone to dispatch his opponent.

One took a Hardblood in the throat, sending him down clutching the wound.

One sped for a warrior's head, yet the raider dodged aside.

One... Tani looked for a new target and saw that the village was beginning to burn.

She began to run before she had completely understood what had happened. Instead of fighting in a group, the Hardbloods had scattered after they were struck, strategy devolving into several brawls. By focusing on targets, she had failed to realize that some of them had decided to retreat to the village.

Maybe they thought it would be a more defensible position, or maybe they only wanted to make their enemy pay. Either way, they had already reached the village. Tani ran as quickly as she could, ducking beneath the swiping blade of one Hardblood who followed the others, and hoped that she could arrive in time.

Ahead of her, she saw two houses ablaze. Two Hardblood raiders carried torches, apparently prepared just for this purpose, and now advanced on the barn.

Where Rubako stood in their way, brandishing his spear.

Tani desperately flooded more sein to her legs, hoping to arrive in time, but she saw them from a great distance. Rubako managed to fend them off for a few heartbeats, but he was outnumbered. One of the Hardbloods managed to knock his spear aside and the other struck him in the chest before he could recover.

Still too far away. She saw Rubako fall, bleeding profusely. He might live, but in moments they would strike again...

Mohuno thundered past her. Tani stumbled as she watched him arrive and dispatch one of the raiders in a single blow, then fend off the second.

As she caught up, Tani realized that she had underestimated his strength. He was as tough as many of the raiders, yes, but he was incredibly fast, perhaps as fast as Veron. His swordplay might not be as practiced as Slaten's, but that didn't matter when he had so much brute speed. Though Tani didn't think his understanding of his own sein was deep, and it certainly wasn't sophisticated, his strength was undeniable.

She arced behind the remaining raider and jabbed her sickle knife into the man's side. He grunted and clawed at her blade instinctively, but Mohuno decapitated him the next moment and his body slumped to the ground, fingers losing their grip.

Though Tani wanted to check on Rubako, she could feel that other raiders approached and on some level knew they were not Steelbones. She stepped close enough to see Rubako grimacing in pain as he held his injury. Hopefully he would live, because she had no more attention to spare.

"This is a distraction they cannot afford." Mohuno grabbed her arm, the first time he'd laid hands on her, yet his grip contained only the urgency of combat. "Those they send after us bleed the strongest fighters from the main battle, but only if we can hold them off."

Grimly acknowledging that he was right, Tani stepped away from Rubako. They shifted to the center of the village, watching carefully as more raiders arrived. Normally that would open them to being surrounded, but more homes had caught fire and the raiders shied away from the flames. Tani desperately wished that she could save the village huts, yet the most she could do was finish the battle.

One of the raiders rushed toward them, but Tani and Mohuno struck at the same time. Their simultaneous strikes wasted effort, but the way the attacker fell to the ground immediately made the others hesitate. Instead of rushing together, they foolishly stayed in their circle, looking for an advantage.

When another dared to rush in, the dam broke and the raiders struck from all sides. Tani ducked beneath the swing of the first, digging her sickle knife into the man's stomach. Mohuno struck him the next moment, sending his headless body backwards, but then the others took their chance to attack.

With Slaten or Veron, Tani might have been able to fight back to back and break their mad charge. Instead with Mohuno, the two of them danced away from each other, constantly moving to prevent their opponents from completely surrounding them. Against untrained soldiers Tani might have attempted to take some out quickly, yet many of the Hardbloods held considerable strength. The risk of one of them binding her was too great, since one mistake would be fatal.

And yet, she and Mohuno managed to fight together. Their strategy didn't develop smoothly, and she rarely understood what he meant when he shot glances her way, yet somehow it worked. She dealt a weakening blow to one Hardblood and sent him stumbling into Mohuno's range. He bashed an opponent to the ground and left him for Tani to finish.

If they had been able to fully work together, it might have been enough. But though they took down several opponents, eventually they found themselves pressed back to back in the center with a true ring of opponents around them. They had moved too far from the burning houses, though the blaze burned even higher. Now the two of them were growing exhausted and many opponents still circled.

Then Tani spotted something even worse: one of the strongest warriors had reached the village. His clothing had been torn away from his chest, but the blood that covered it was not his.

Tani slid her fingers over her remaining knives, counting the exact number. She would fight to the end, but if they threatened to capture her, she would use the last knife on herself.

Just as the Hardbloods began their charge, a second war cry echoed through the valley. Tani flinched from it, but saw Mohuno straighten. She understood a moment later when she saw gray-collared warriors burst from the crags and rush toward the village, led by an old man who burned with mint in her mind. The second band of Steelbones had arrived.

If the Hardbloods had remained in the village, they might have been able to cut down their isolated opponents. But instead they rushed out to face the new foe, and that proved a fatal error. The fresh raiders had larger numbers and momentum from their downhill charge, so they shattered their enemies.

Though the strongest of the Hardbloods knocked aside his opponents, breaking bones with each blow, he was soon matched. The old man, who could only be Mohuno's uncle, proved to be even stronger than his nephew. He might be the last of the Steelbone clan's mightiest warriors, but against this weakened foe he did not need to reserve himself.

Tani kept her knives ready and finished off one running Hardblood before the battle was over. Still, with that war cry and charge, the true threat had ended. It had been a victory, yet she only found herself staring at the burning huts.

Even if she could have put out the fierce flames, too much had already been destroyed.

"We won!" Mohuno raised his fists to the air, not noticing her expression. "The Hardbloods will never forget this loss!"

"Was it worth it?" Tani walked past him to look down over the valley, scattered with crimson bodies. Though she had little love for the Steelbones, she saw so many of them on the ground that it still robbed her of any sense of victory. To her surprise, Mohuno merely shrugged.

"Most of them will live. In war between clans, most of the dead are killed when the winners finish off those who have fallen. The strongest of the Hardbloods killed a few, but the others will survive, hardened by their battles. We will return stronger than before."

"But the village burned."

"It did." Mohuno at least had the decency to look slightly sad as he turned his gaze back to the flames. "I wish that we could have stopped them. But the people of the village cooperated, and the boy even fought with us. I will give them their choice of land and we can help them rebuild. With their lives and their animals intact, they will return stronger as well."

Tani turned to him in surprise. For a moment she wondered if he faked his passion as part of some ploy, yet he didn't even look at her. She realized that part of his arrogance grew from real concern for the people of the village. Without her, he might have sacrificed their home, but he had done everything that he could to defend them. It wasn't as if her best had been able to save the village either.

Loath as she was to admit it, Tani felt her heart beginning to soften. Despite all his faults, Mohuno might be a good man. And despite his strength, he had never once used it to threaten her. If he proved capable of change, perhaps...

"A brilliant strategy!" Mohuno's uncle came into the village like a storm, laughing and striking his nephew on the shoulder. "Did you see the Hardbloods lost Datoba? You more than bloodied their nose, you cut off their foot! They'll lose ground to us, make no mistake."

"This is our time to strike. Never let them think they can do this to us." Mohuno raised his voice as he called to all the other Steelbones. "Those who took injuries, hold the village and put out these fires! Everyone else, join Uncle Fahuwe! Run into the heart of Hardblood territory and raid their stores, burn their houses, steal their women! They will not soon forget this arrogance!"

The men roared out a response and Tani seemed to hear it only from a distance. As she saw Mohuno leading his raiders, she regretted her moment of doubt. He had been a useful ally to protect the people of the village, but that was all. She would never get through to him, and wishing for him to change was a foolish dream.

What she would do instead, she didn't know. In the wake of the battle, she had imagined asking him to escort her to Mount Tmil, or at least help her navigate the raider clans who stood in her path. That still seemed the most likely path, yet she hesitated to ask anything of him.

For a time the villagers remained hidden, fearing the aftermath, but Cabari emerged to help bind Rubako's wounds and others followed. Tani assisted wherever she could, putting out those fires where anything was salvageable. Though it had been forbidden, it seemed that many of the villagers had taken their meager belongings with them into hiding, so though they mourned the loss of their village, they hadn't lost everything.

Once they had recovered what they could, even saving broken boards from the flames, they turned to the bodies. Most were Steelbones or Hardbloods, but Tani saw one old woman who must have fallen in the first attack. She wanted to help, but her role had passed, leaving her to watch.

All the Hardbloods were ruthlessly stripped of everything they wore and thrown into one of the buildings that still burned. By contrast, the villagers treated the fallen Steelbones respectfully enough, leaving them with a few fragments of cloth and positioning them in a resting position outside the edge of the village.

As soon as it was done, the villagers took up the old woman's body and began a procession higher into the mountains. Tani followed at a distance, presuming that she would see their funeral ritual but unsure if she should. Not wanting to intrude on their grief, Tani caught up with the group and found Cabari, tugging her sleeve to pull her aside from the others.

"Should I leave you alone?" Tani asked. Cabari seemed surprised by the question, then shook her head.

"No, her body will only be honored by your presence. Come and watch us lay her out."

"Lay her out?" She glanced forward, noting how the villagers' path became increasingly steep.

"For the funeral, of course." Cabari eyed her curiously. "Surely your people honor the dead in some way. We'll take her clothes and spread her body under the sky."

"And then?"

Ahead, they reached a local peak, the highest point that could be easily reached without leaping or climbing. Tani observed that the area had been worn smooth by other feet, yet she saw nowhere for a body to be buried, especially in such hard rock.

"What do you mean?" Cabari cast her another strange look as the old woman was settled onto the stone. "Once the ceremony is over, birds and other creatures will come and eat her body. What did you think would happen?"

Tani pulled a hand to her mouth as her stomach convulsed. The idea of leaving the dead to be torn apart by beasts sent a wave of revulsion through her that required all her discipline to swallow. Though Cabari stared at her obliviously and the villagers continued their solemn ritual, Tani struggled to accept such a terrible practice.

No doubt Slaten would have nodded somberly and accepted their customs, no matter what they had said, but Tani couldn't. She knew that they didn't share her taboos in her mind and struggled to make her stomach understand the same thing. Mastering herself, she drew Cabari back from the main group of villagers and spoke in a whisper.

"Why not bury the bodies? I know the ground is hard, but you could have warriors cut into the rock, like they did for my hiding place."

"Beasts would only dig them up and infest the village." Cabari frowned slightly, sensing her reaction, and hastened to explain. "You think we don't care for our dead? In most seasons, it's too cold for the bodies to decompose. What seems more caring, to let the dead pass into nature or to leave them as horrible frozen bodies?"

Though Tani accepted that point, she remained fixated on the idea of beasts tearing the fallen apart. She could even see a few birds of prey perched nearby, no doubt waiting. "Why not burn them? You did with the Hardbloods... is that offensive in some way?"

"Burn them? You've seen how few trees we have: we need every board for our homes and every scrub for cookfires and the dead of winter. Burning the dead might be your custom, but we cannot afford such things."

"I... admit that I had not considered that. But for the Nelee... allowing beasts to touch the dead is something we try to avoid. It seems an awful fate for a body."

"I've never thought about it that way." Cabari turned away and raised her arms to either side, encompassing the mountains. "Their pain and hunger is gone and their body is only a shell. But I've always found it comforting to think that pieces of them can soar over the mountains, finally free..."

Accepting the sincerity in the young woman's voice, Tani did her best to set aside her own reactions and simply watch. Once they had completed their chanting, the villagers began to remove every layer of cloth that had covered the old woman. Every movement was the opposite of the workmanlike stripping of the warriors, instead tenderly removing each piece and passing one to each member of the village. As they continued, all worked the new cloth into their clothes, some running the fabric through their hands.

That sight was what finally transformed Tani's revulsion into shame. Their custom might have been horrifying to her, but it meant far more to them. When the old woman was finally left in a simple gray cloth, there was an austere simplicity that pierced Tani to the core.

It seemed that the villagers would hold vigil for a time, but she no longer wanted to intrude on their ceremony. Instead she wandered down toward the burning remnants of the village, pondering what she had seen. The depth of emotion and spirit she had seen stood in stark contrast to the Bloodskins profaning their own dead.

On her way down, she reached into her pack and ran her fingers over the splinters on her case. She didn't think that she could bring this reflection back to her tribe, and though she welcomed the new thoughts, they reminded her of just how far she was from home. Somehow, she needed to draw all these new experiences into herself without losing everything that made her Nelee.

For a moment her body tensed at the sight of a man carrying a spear, but it was only Rubako. Despite his wounds, he was moving down the line of fallen Steelbone warriors. Tani flinched as she saw him drive his spear into the chest of one of the corpses, yet in her somber mood, she looked more closely. His expression held no hatred, only a heavy weight.

"What are you doing?" she asked. He leapt slightly at her voice, pausing before driving the spear into the next body.

"They might have been selfish men, but they gave their lives for the village." He glared as if daring her to argue. "They deserve this much, at least."

"I know they died for the village, I just... don't understand this."

"The last man to strike a warrior before his body is taken carries his honor." Rubako's glare became incredulity, his voice slowing as if she was a child. "That honor shouldn't be taken by the enemy. The Steelbones are gone, so someone needs to remember them."

He continued on, driving his spear into the next of the fallen warriors. Intellectual knowledge of his intent couldn't overcome the revulsion she felt at the wet sound, so Tani turned away and left him to his ritual, reconsidering all that she had seen within the mountains.

Though it didn't change her opinion of the Bloodskins, she realized that she had misjudged them in at least this one way. Because of her own pain, she had seen and not understood. Her master might not have disagreed with any of her decisions, but she would have been very disappointed in her.

Tani leapt to a rocky peak and just sat for a time, her arms wrapped around her legs. She had reconsidered many things in her life, but never anything that struck so deeply at the core of her instinctual reactions. Yet it was much easier to accept the villagers' ritual than to think that even brute raiders had more culture than she had been willing to admit. Above all, Mohuno had no inherently good or evil nature, only a mix that refused classification.

Had her participation in the battle saved lives in the end? It was so easy to imagine that there might have been another way, or to invent paths where any choice led to tragedy. She still clung to everything she believed, yet the way to bring those beliefs into the world seemed less clear than ever.

Tani remained uncertain for days, until the dreams began.

Chapter 22

-

"The Council of Espal will gladly accept offers of alliance across the Maenhu when Portant surrenders all lands for ten leagues east of the Oestiid River and Wahleen grants unlimited rights to its deepest mines."

- Espalese response to the Scholars of the Blue Mask

-

Though the Voidwalker with her appeared disgusted to return to Sotfaal and left as quickly as possible, Celivia found herself relieved. She might have terribly few options out on the edge of civilization, but at least her path forward was clear. Considering the difficulty of the task she had been given, the only way she would succeed would be to increase both her rank and her personal strength.

Looking out over Sotfaal, she was struck by how dusty it was. The colors in the north of Wahleen had been richly saturated in comparison to what she saw now, yet she would take it. She hefted her sack of supplies over her shoulder and headed down into the tiny fort.

In theory her band was supposed to be aware that she was returning and waiting, but she strongly suspected that the message had not reached them. When she passed the gates, she found only Ghasfik and Huthur sitting on a pair of crates and talking while drinking. When they saw her they both lurched to their feet with smiles.

"Band leader!" Ghasfik brought a fist to his chest respectfully. "We didn't receive a message about your arrival."

"It probably got lost. It doesn't matter." She had to fight not to grin, not because they had any deep relationship but simply due to relief. Celivia recognized a strange impulse to hug both of the men, though she knew that would send entirely the wrong message. That made her realize how long it had been since she'd really touched someone, a pang of longing that she quickly suffocated.

"What do you have there, Kaen?"

"Some supplies and some new equipment. I wish I'd talked to Fijn about exactly what size everyone needs, but I hope these will be close enough. Huthur, I thought about buying you a newer set of tools, but I wasn't sure what you'd actually need."

"No need." Huthur patted his belt, which she saw had a few tools not yet worn with age. "I used some of my pay for new tools anyway."

"Good. I assume most of the others are using theirs to drink as much as they can?"

"Most of them. Little Ragh lost most of his gambling in the first few days and has been begging ever since."

As they headed to the nearest tavern, Ghasfik informed her of what little had happened in her absence. Big Ragh had gotten in a fight with some local soldiers and spent a day in a cell, but it had come to nothing. Otherwise, it seemed that not much training had occurred, though she didn't experience much disappointment or surprise.

When they arrived, Big Ragh and Brifik saw her and immediately announced a toast. Still riding on the wave of elation, Celivia accepted it and drained a glass. She used her sein to completely negate the effect, but it still tasted good. Fijn arrived midway and she handed him the equipment to sort out, even though that was Brifik's job.

"Damn, the bitch is back." Splinters muttered the words when he arrived, glaring at her with real hatred.

"I heard that. I love you too, Splinters." She hadn't really thought about what she was saying, it just spilled from her general good mood. To her surprise, the others thought this was hilarious and laughed until Splinters stalked away angrily.

Krafan arrived, happy to see her but taking her hand for a heartbeat too long. After they found Little Ragh sleeping off a hangover from begged liquor, she had everyone back together. They headed out of Sotfaal and she discovered that Ghasfik had kept one development from her: several of the men had pooled their pay together to buy several bovals. The creatures sat dully, scrawnier than average, yet despite all the delicacies she had eaten in the north, the sight still made her mouth water.

"I knew we'd get sick of rations," Big Ragh said. "Now we can eat one of them when we want. Can you manage them in the mountains?"

That mild statement, said without a hint of malice, was what finally destroyed her good mood. Herding bovals was women's work, and it seemed that Big Ragh didn't even recognize what he'd said. She fixed him with the sternest gaze she could muster. "I don't think that's work for an officer, is it, Nin?"

"I... sorry, Kaen." Big Ragh shuffled back, feeling guilty but not fully understanding. Those who had heard went silent, watching to see how she would react. Celivia wanted to regain the previous atmosphere, but saw that it had been lost. The best she could do was return to a facsimile of it.

"I approve of the purchase, men, but we can't take that many bovals with us into the mountains. Slaughter one of them and we can eat well tonight."

That suggestion got an immediate roar of approval, Big Ragh loudest of all, mostly arising from the desire to push past the previous moment. Celivia only kept it in mind as she removed the remainder of her supplies. Some were only for her, and her new voidlink had been hidden within her clothes from the beginning. But she'd purchased a small bundle of spices for this exact reunion.

Once they got to work, they actually behaved like a professional band. Several of them slaughtered one of the bovals and began carving up the meat. Fijn began distributing the boots, and though it seemed the sizes were close enough, several required some stuffing or cutting. Brifik did the same with the helms, which the band seemed to enjoy more as a novelty than as equipment.

While they ambled around the fire in work or gossip, Celivia focused on the meat. No one dared to ask her if she could cook, though she did notice a few glances when they thought her back was turned. She could cook. After years of herding idiotic bovals and never being allowed to take the most honored role of chef, Celivia had thrown herself into it when given the opportunity. When hiding among the humans she hadn't been able to show her skills, but now she enjoyed herself.

There was no such thing as a perfect cut of meat or a perfect meal, but she needed to make the right choices for this exact fire. Knowing they were mostly soldiers from Fein Karnak, she had purchased spices with bold flavors. She might prefer Seinan methods of searing the meat, or even the medley of spices she'd enjoyed in the north, but if they didn't know those styles, they might just think it was the meat. So she cooked a feast that would have been at home in any restaurant in Fein Karnak.

Fortunately, in this her plan worked perfectly. Only Krafan thanked her directly for it, but the band roared its approval and devoured the entire boval. When she took one of the choicest bones for herself, no one made the slightest objection.

Though the band around the fire was cheerful and full, Celivia found herself staring at the remnants of the meal with a quiet longing. The food had been a tactic, not a pleasure shared among true friends. If she had cooked for Reina and her other allies, she could have attempted something far more elaborate.

For that matter, it would have been interesting to cook for Tani. The human woman would probably have enjoyed trying everything, but Celivia suspected she would enjoy spicier food in the style of Kijn-Fkaz. Slaten tended to eat whatever was in front of him, but she wondered if her best effort could earn a real response from him. And if Veron had been there, she would have found a way to acquire some alcohol that matched the meal better than the cheap piss from the fortress.

Celivia stared into the fire and didn't think about them.

"Kaen?" Ghasfik spoke up gruffly, pulling her from her thoughts. "Who are we killing this time?"

Realizing that the others were staring at her now, Celivia made herself only a band leader again. "We've been assigned to eradicate a clan called the Lowsteps, to the southwest. They're a branch of the much more dangerous Coldstep clan. Apparently the generals hope a smaller group will be able to destroy them without prompting retaliation from the Coldsteps."

"How many are there?"

"Unknown, other than that they're supposed to be among the smaller clans. We don't know the location of their village, or the edges of their territory. The good news it that we've been given as much time as we need, or close to it. The bad news is that this will be difficult no matter our approach."

Though the men nodded and grumbled, she had to wonder if they really understood the difficulty of what they faced. If her entire band had been warriors, they would still have been outnumbered. As much as she had thought about the problem before her, she saw no clever path through. It would almost be easier to train for a year and try to kill them all herself.

"Tonight, relax as much as you want." Celivia finally stood up to address her band. "But tomorrow morning, we begin our campaign against the Lowsteps. Our strength won't be sufficient, but that can change. Anyone who wants to focus on sein training, meet me at dawn."

That night, she imagined how it might be possible to transform the eight into a lean fighting force. In the morning, she waited as no one showed up. She was deep into her own training when Fijn finally appeared, wrestling with his helmet.

"It might be a good idea, Kaen, but you're not going to get many takers." He finally got his helmet on properly and just stood nearby. "Our marches are hard enough, and we know that even if we train for a hundred days, we're not going to become warriors like you. What's the point?"

"We could be here longer than a hundred days," Celivia said, "and you don't need to be a full warrior to gain an edge in combat."

Fijn didn't answer, and Celivia didn't believe in what she was saying. Not because she was incorrect, but because she recognized the futility of it. They likely wanted to get pay and respect enough to give them a real life back home, above the hungry and overcrowded masses. They would take a Catai rebirth if offered, but the slow path to becoming a warrior held nothing for them.

For the next several days, as they traveled deeper into the mountains, Celivia always woke early and stayed near the camp in case anyone accepted her offer. She would be training at that time in any case, so it made no difference to her. Since she had done excellent physical training in Wahleen, now she could focus on achieving a breakthrough in sein.

At least her band wasn't useless when it came to gathering information. Ghasfik had spoken to other veterans in Sotfaal and had some idea of Lowstep territory. Fijn took the lead whenever they encountered merchants, interrogating them about their experiences to learn more. Given enough time, she thought they could gain a clear picture of the local raiding clans.

Then, without warning, they stumbled across four Lowsteps.

It was no ambush, simply an accidental encounter. Despite the sheer number of small hills and valleys scattered throughout the Sotunn range, her band and a small group of raiders happened to be traversing the same valley at the same time. She spotted them first, across the way... and then she heard their war cries and knew what was coming.

She hurled herself off the edge of the path, crashing into the forest to intercept the group of four. Judging from their musculature and how easily they ran, all four were warriors. If they were allowed to work together, soldiers would stand no chance against them. Though she wasn't certain of her own chances, depending on their training, she needed to break the charge.

Her best chance against unfamiliar opponents was always her whip, so Celivia focused all her sein on her right arm and just let one knife hang loosely in her left. The raiders saw her, though only two of them seemed to follow her movements.

When they met, she lashed out at the weaker of the two that followed her. The man raised the haft of his long axe, intending to deflect her whip. He didn't even see as it changed direction in midair, the blades stabbing down into his body as they wrapped around his neck.

Knowing how tough they could be, Celivia immediately pulled back as hard as she could, tearing open a large part of the man's chest. She had barely finished the movement when two of the others fell on her.

One tried to sever her hand holding the whip, so she simply abandoned it. The other struck at her side, and though she evaded and struck back, he caught her knife on the edge of his shield. Before she could pull back, he grabbed her arm. It was a poor move, leaving him open, but she knew it must be intentional.

The last of the raiders thrust his spear directly toward her face.

Instinctively realizing that she couldn't deflect a thrust with so much sein behind it, Celivia instead twisted past it. The other raider still gripped her arm, but she let that twist her to the side and leapt. She slammed both her feet directly into the leader with the spear in a perfectly executed kick.

He only stumbled back. She had kicked with all her weight and sein behind the blow, enough to crush the chest of a normal man. The leader of the group gave a savage grin and pulled his spear back even as she hit the ground.

Though Celivia had freed herself from the bind and managed to roll aside, she only narrowly evaded the next spear thrust. Worse, the other two were closing on her, and she couldn't take both of them on simultaneously... at least normally.

Her tail lashed out from behind her, the blade stabbing deep into the leg of the first man, leaving her with only one attacker. She desperately caught his axe on the longest blade of her duusha horn knife, but a moment later a kick impacted on her stomach.

As she flew backward, crashing against a tree, Celivia realized that they had made a mistake. If they had been smart, they would have kept her pinned so that the leader could finish her off.

After hitting another tree, she managed to land on her feet. The trees barely hurt and her armored belt had taken the worst of the kick. Two of the three approached and she quickly drew her second knife. Though her stomach ached, she thought the initial exchange had been worth it, to eliminate one of the four.

But when she tried to engage those coming toward her, the leader leapt overhead. She pulled back in surprise, amazed that he had launched himself past her with raw physical force. Even if she had tried to strike him, the second Lowstep was on her the next moment, constantly stabbing from behind his shield.

After two failed attempts to get past his defenses, Celivia realized that she was being stalled. The leader had leapt up to the path, where her band had taken defensive positions. They couldn't hold against him, but she also didn't want to approach him with just her knives.

Instead she left the raider with the shield and attacked the third, who had picked up her whip. He tried to lash it at her, but the fool had no idea how to use the weapon. Celivia stepped past it and buried a knife in his chest... only for him to rush straight into her, slamming her back against a tree.

The impact hurt, but when he tried to strike her, she buried her tail in his stomach. That bought her enough time to thrust both her knives into his neck and tear them out. He staggered back, somehow still alive but dropping his sword. She rushed past him, traded one knife for her whip, and returned to the main fight.

They had kept themselves intact solely by splitting into two groups and retreating. Ghasfik seemed to be keeping order and they hadn't panicked, which would have resulted in them being immediately chased down. It didn't look like they could last much longer, though: she saw Krafan go down with a broken arm and the leader sweep in for the kill.

She hit hard from the side, but he was prepared this time. Though Celivia lashed out with her whip, redirecting it toward his face, he anticipated it, striking the whip aside with the haft of his spear.

As she'd expected. Celivia ducked underneath the thrust of his spear and spun to kick the back of his leg. Strong as he was, he couldn't keep from going down to one knee.

Though he was prepared for her attack, she simply kicked directly into the shaft of his spear when he raised it. She didn't manage to injure him, but the force pushed him off the edge of the path to the forest below. That should earn her enough time...

Behind her, she heard a scream of pain.

Though she turned to help, the sight still made her hesitate for a moment. The other raider had shoved his fist directly into Little Ragh's stomach. It looked as though Little Ragh had tried to stab first, but his thrust had dealt only a shallow cut. Two soldiers stood within range, but they simply stared in shock at the sight of the raider forcing his way through flesh with raw sein.

Before she could arrive, the raider buried his axe into Little Ragh's chest, tearing the hole even wider. He was dead before he hit the ground, then Celivia struck from behind.

Her whip lashed around the raider's axe arm, blades cutting deep enough to disable it, and her knife and tail stabbed into his back. It felt like stabbing brick and she realized too late that the blows wouldn't bring him down. The raider grabbed her throat and slammed her to the ground.

He landed another punch to her face before Celivia buried her knife in his eye. Though he actually reached for it in disbelief, as if even that wouldn't be enough to stop him, Celivia struck the back of the knife with her palm and drove it deep into his skull. That finally made him drop.

Kicking aside the body, she drew her remaining knife and rushed for the others. Though she had feared that the leader would have already killed them, he appeared to be coming toward her fight. It was no real comfort that he was taking her as a serious threat now.

Though Celivia led with her whip, this time the raider reached out and grabbed the blades in the air. She released all the sein she'd imparted to the blades, intending to tear through his hand, yet she only managed to draw some blood. He struck back and this time she wasn't fast enough.

Celivia staggered away, only feeling the tearing pain across her side as her other foot hit the ground. Her belt had turned aside the thrust at first, but it had punctured a weak point into her side, and the raider was now stabbing repeatedly toward her face. She wanted to strike back, but even though he was fighting with only one hand on his spear, his assault was overwhelming. It was the most that she could do to avoid each of the lethal thrusts, allowing another to cut against her shoulder and draw yet more blood.

She saw the spear sweeping low but wasn't fast enough. It caught her in the leg and she crashed to the ground, unable to even catch herself.

Laughing, the raider stepped closer. He tossed aside her whip in a shower of blood and put both hands on his spear. Though Celivia struggled to order her sein again and find a way to retaliate, from the ground against his superior position, she didn't know how much of a chance she had.

Then several spears thrust into his back. None went deep and some didn't even draw blood against the raider's sein-trained body, but he let out a grunt of surprise. He turned around and saw her soldiers piling behind him. Fijn thrust again, but the raider grabbed the shaft before it could reach him.

"Think you can hit me from behind, you little shits?" The raider took a step towards them, pressing their weapons back with his body, his grin broadening. "I'll tear out your hearts and ea-"

Celivia's knife punched through the side of his head.

All her attention remained focused on making sure that the raider was dead until she felt his sein splutter out. Part of her still couldn't believe it. She had her Coran training to thank, allowing her to force so much sein into a single blow. That thought floated through her head idly and she realized that her mind was exhausted by the constant rush of the fight.

Worse, her body nearly gave out. For the first time she realized just how many injuries she had taken. None would kill her, but they made her look half-dead. She couldn't afford to collapse in front of a group of men. Couldn't let them see any weakness, anything they could exploit...

"Celivia, are you alright?" Krafan came to support her. At first she shoved his arm away, wavering on her feet and nearly collapsing.

Yet when she looked at them, she saw no scorn. There was true concern for her on their faces, mixed with gratitude on some. She saw that several had dents in their helmets from blows that could have broken their skulls, and they were aware of it.

Krafan's effort to support her back pressed one of the injuries on her side, nearly sending her to the ground in a swirl of pain. Ghasfik more sensibly provided an arm for her to reach a rock, where she sat down heavily.

"Were those..." Big Ragh's voice sounded too high-pitched and he cleared his throat loudly. "Were those their strongest?"

"No." Celivia knew she should say something else, but she was too exhausted to treat them gently. Yet the concern she saw in their eyes... she needed to use what little strength she had for something else. "Someone check on Little Ragh, see if..."

"He's dead." Splinters knelt down beside the body, glowering but for once not at her. He stalked away without even looking at them.

"We'll conduct funeral rites, but not here. Ghasfik..." She trailed off, without the strength to give any more orders. Fortunately, her second took over, turning to the others.

"There isn't likely to be another group of humans like this, but we must be within their territory. We backtrack east first thing. You, carry Little Ragh's body. You, retrieve all the weapons. The rest of you..."

Once she confirmed that he was giving sensible orders, Celivia let his words fade away. She needed to focus on recovery, especially given how heavily she had drawn her sein.

Technically, this had been a victory. The Lowstep clan had lost four warriors and she suspected that the leader had been someone of importance in their clan. Alone, she most likely would not have been able to defeat him: only the crudeness of his technique and the exact circumstance had allowed her to land the killing blow. Cast in hard numbers, the fight had been quite fortuitous.

But in reality, the four dead humans didn't make up for Little Ragh's corpse. He was the first of them to fall, possibly a fatal blow to morale. There would be no reinforcements, either, so now it was only eight of them against the rest.

Celivia felt her shortcomings even more than before. Even if they could isolate the Lowsteps one by one, she lacked the strength to kill them all. Despite her injuries, she resolved to begin training before dawn the next day.

This time, all the others joined her.

Chapter 23

-

"The Council of Portant accepts the survey and declines the suggestion."

- Portantese response to the Scholars of the Blue Mask

-

When the Bloodskin clan finally traveled toward the peak of Mount Tmil, no one was truly happy about it. Melal might have been closest, but he was still frustrated that many warriors followed Chief Bufogu instead of him. The Bloodskin chieftain was clearly irritated by the fact that they were making the journey at all. And Slaten was nowhere near happy with all the tensions spread through the group.

Both Laeri and Natala journeyed along with them, uneasy in the large group of raiders and in turn making many of the men uncomfortable. But they followed the Hero this time, and that truth overrode all others in the end.

Melal himself had taken no one with him and spent most of his time stalking at the edges of the group. Despite having joined the clan, he seemed more distant than before, his eyes always on the highest peaks ahead of them. It made Slaten remember the long rainy season when a previous Hero had done nothing, then violence had erupted, shattering Bundlin. Though Melal was a different Hero, and in some ways a more complacent one, he still feared for what they might yet face.

There was one other substantial problem. One day as they walked, Slaten caught up to Melal and voiced it aloud. "Where are Tani and Veron?"

"They still walk in the Legend." Melal turned in his direction, yet his eyes didn't focus on Slaten. "All will be well in the end."

"Does that mean we're going to meet them along the way? Do they know to go to Mount Tmil now?"

"They... will return to me in the end. One way or another."

"What does that mean?"

Melal did finally look at him, but only gave a benevolent smile and then wandered away. As he did so, his hair shone as the light seemed to gather around him. Slaten felt a bright stab deep in his heart that he had nearly forgotten. That suggested that nothing would interrupt this journey, unless it ended catastrophically.

He was still unable to set aside practical concerns. Their force was smaller than the previous raid, less than a third of the Bloodskin clan's warriors. They had among them Gatoda, who had completely fallen under Melal's spell, and Patule, who had come for reasons unknown. Chief Bufogu led them, most likely because he feared that Melal would otherwise steal a third of his clan and much of his authority.

Given that group, Slaten decided to next approach Patule. The other man turned to him immediately, scarred eye bulging. "What?"

"I want to know how much danger we will be facing. The Stormpeaks were distracted for many days, so why leave now? Is it because of the risk of the conflict ending?"

"Maybe, but not only that." Patule gestured ahead to specific peaks Slaten did not know. "For some reason, the Hardbloods broke apart and the Earthbreakers won their fight. This has created the clearest path to Mount Tmil that we are likely to get."

"I see. Do you think our chances are good?"

"That depends on the Hero."

Hearing Patule refer to Melal that way made Slaten wince, though being around Natala so frequently led him to automatically suppress the expression. Had Melal's days in the Bloodskin village actually been more effective than they appeared? Even when it didn't lead to bloodshed, the Legend always lurked underneath everything, roots growing deeper and deeper...

Patule opened his mouth, but was interrupted when a shout rang out. They looked forward, at first alarmed, only to find Melal standing on a peak ahead of the group. With all eyes rising to him, he raised his fists, clad in sunlight.

"Men of the Bloodskin clan! Our journey to Mount Tmil may not be easy, but it is the only path forward into the Legend! Your strength may be needed, your will tested, your faith attacked. But the only way we can go is forward! Onward, to battle and adventure!"

~ ~ ~

Battle and adventure turned out to mean a great deal of walking. Though Slaten and a few others attempted to keep up regular scouting patrols, Melal pushed them hard every day, heedless of such things. Their path seemed strangely blessed, free of conflict, but that meant it was simply boring.

On some nights Slaten went away with Natala, both to maintain the pretext and because she was the only source of good conversation in the group. That night, they sat against a tree trunk. He wished that they could risk setting up the Yenith board, but instead settled for cycling through his normal exercises while they spoke.

"Is it normally like this?" Natala watched him thoughtfully, eyes black in the dark. "The Legend."

"It has been different, both with Melal and with others. I feel... that there is something fundamental we are missing."

"That's why you support meeting this Sage?"

"That's part of it." Slaten closed his eyes and leaned against the tree, grinding the bark against the back of his skull. "I don't know if the Sage will tell us anything new or if he will simply encourage Melal. But I have to believe that someone understands everything that is happening, or... it will all seem insurmountable."

"I've tried to think about it myself." Natala rubbed her forehead with both hands, a gesture he didn't think he'd ever seen from her before. "I don't think... it's difficult to express myself..."

"It has always been that way."

"But it's new to me. Normally when I put my mind to something, I can focus on everything it contains and begin to understand. But with this... I do not think it can ever be reduced to logic or reason. Whatever the Legend is, it is fundamentally... something else."

Slaten frowned, stopping his exercises. "I'm not sure I agree. If something exists, it must have some logic. I think, or at least I hope, that the Legend must be like any other game. The rules may be complex, but if we watch for long enough, we must be able to understand."

"You've watched longer than I have, so you might be right. But I'm not sure."

They sat in silence until it grew dark.

~ ~ ~

Surrounded by Bloodskin warriors at almost all times, Slaten thought it might be unwise to experiment further with their arts. Likewise, the possibility of an attack at any moment prevented him from any form of training that left him exhausted or with injuries.

Instead he returned to pure sein training, which the Bloodskins didn't understand but at least accepted. Though he struggled to deepen his understanding in a meaningful way, he didn't feel that he made any progress. The most he could do was expand the quantity of the sein flowing within him.

Normally simply increasing raw capacity was a poor method of training, but he hoped it might help the next time he fought. Regardless of the core problem with his stamina, the ultimate effect was being starved of sein. Therefore, increasing the quantity available to him would at least alleviate the problem.

At least, it was the best he could do.

~ ~ ~

As they entered Stormpeak territory, they began taking increasingly dangerous routes to avoid attention. Sometimes that meant scaling sheer cliff faces, which the Bloodskins managed because the falls did them only temporary harm. Slaten had to let down ropes so that Natala and Laeri could manage the climb.

That day, one of the Bloodskins accidentally caused a small rock slide. Slaten had managed to save both women and several slow Bloodskin warriors, but had turned his ankle while pushing aside the rocks. It might have been little concern, except that he needed to continue walking on it as they pressed forward to find a hiding place before the rock slide could be investigated.

So that night when they made camp, Laeri knelt down by his ankle to care for it. The Bloodskins might not respect him for receiving healing, but given the threat of an attack, Slaten didn't care. As she worked, Laeri looked up at him and spoke nervously.

"Your ankle will be fine, Slaten, but... I think you should be careful with the Bloodskin arts. There might be consequences, you know?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, well... I don't know enough to have a theory and the Bloodskins won't let me look at them deeply. But have you noticed that there are a few old women, but no old men?"

Slaten blinked in surprise, realizing that the fact had completely passed him by. "Their lives are hard, but that would strike both men and women. Likely untrained women more than warriors. The older warriors might simply age better due to their bodily arts."

"I wondered that too, but I've asked some of the older women. None of the warriors have lived much longer than fifty years." Laeri shuffled uncomfortably by his ankles. "I know that they live dangerous lives. But I also worry that they might be burning through their lives too quickly. Normally a warrior at fifty should be at their peak."

"Does it work that way? As if lives are candles?"

Though speaking with Laeri was often awkward, they could usually discuss sein comfortably. Laeri brightened and moved up to sit beside him, but before they could speak, they were interrupted by a loud disruption at the edge of the camp.

Scouts dragged in two men who Slaten at first assumed were Bloodskin raiders who had committed some crime. Only as they were thrown to their knees in front of Chief Bufogu did Slaten notice the differences. Physically they looked like the same people, but they wore more blue cloths and one had a necklace of bones. Presumably another clan.

"These two stumbled on us while we were scouting, but we caught them." Gatoda sneered as he kicked one of them further to the ground. "Barely more than boys. If this is what passes for men among the Bonewalkers, they're lucky they've survived this long."

"But they found us." Chief Bufogu stared at the two young raiders, who glared back defiantly.

"We swept the area and we didn't find any more. You want us to kill them and bury the bodies?"

"If they came this far, they were sent. Someone might suspect us, or at least they might be missed." Bufogu rose to his feet and pulled a large axe from beside his pack. "Their deaths must be made to serve us."

He swung down, a single powerful blow severing one of the young men's arms. He let out a scream of pain and tried to struggle to his feet, but Bufogu easily swept the axe around, hacking off his other arm. The second young man scrambled to his feet to run, but other Bloodskins caught him and forced him back down as Bufogu finished off the first.

"How horrible!" Laeri turned away, hiding her face in both hands. "Even if he had to kill them, he needn't be so cruel..."

Slaten didn't answer, instead watching the axe as it began hacking into the second Bonewalker. For a time he wondered how the violent deaths served any purpose, then he realized the truth: Bufogu didn't usually fight with such a large axe. The one he used now had been taken from the body of the Catai they fought earlier, and it was a particularly distinctive mansthein style...

"Slaten, are you ignoring me? Why is he being so cruel?"

"He's making it look like the Bonewalkers were killed by Deathspawn." Even as Slaten watched, Bufogu buried the axe in the second target's back and left it there. That was perhaps a clumsy choice, since there would have been no reason for a Catai to leave his weapon. Yet a moment later he saw the Bloodskin chief pick up his own axe and use it to strike the mansthein weapon to render it too damaged to use. "That way when these scouts are discovered, they will draw attention away from us."

"That's horrendous." Laeri peeked through her fingers, staring at the gory mess of the two. She appeared sad, but not horrified - after all, she had seen many wounds in her work. "I think that one is still alive, Slaten, don't you?"

"It... appears to be that way." How long he would last without both arms and with so much blood gushing from his body was another question.

"Do you think they would stop me if I tried to go help him? Not to heal him, just to... take away some of his pain, you know? It's the only thing I can do."

Slaten frowned toward Laeri. "I agree that this is cruel, but those men are our enemies. They would kill us if they could, and if they hadn't been caught, they could have brought their entire clan down on us."

"But I'm a healer, you know? One should always help kin and allies first, but if anyone is in pain, I should help them..."

"You have a duty to heal everyone?"

She nodded with great conviction. "If it is possible, yes. I would heal the Bloodskins, if they let me."

"Even Deathspawn?"

"Of... of course not Deathspawn! They want to kill all of us!"

"Even if it was Iralin?" Slaten asked. When he saw Laeri flinch, he pressed on. "The two of you worked together for much of a year in Ith Ire. If she was injured and couldn't heal herself, would you let her die?"

"I... I don't know. Why are you asking me these things?"

Despite his questions, he had no answer for her. Perhaps he was being cruel in his own way, without even an excuse like Chief Bufogu. As they sat in silence, the young warrior bled out beside their camp.

~ ~ ~

As they walked, Natala told him of everything she hoped to do if she escaped the mountains. Where the minds of others tread a straight line, she walked in a dozen directions at once, each consideration influenced by a great many possibilities. Any direction she turned, it seemed likely that she could reach some aspect of her potential.

All at once, his answer came to him. Not an answer to be held forever, but for now, it was enough. Natala noticed that something had changed and watched him. "You have something to say, Slaten?"

"Only that you were right, before." His eyes wandered south, though the Chorhan Expanse was long gone. "There was a mansthein man I knew named Kolanin. Not a perfect man, but he attempted to make a difference. He was a warrior, but that was the least aspect of him. If he had not been cut down, he could have become much more."

"And?"

"You're right that the greatest of potentials can be destroyed by a single moment of violence. But they can also be saved by one. I may not be able to change the world, but I can save those who could."

Natala regarded him without expression. "Does that grand ideal satisfy you?"

"I'm not sure." Slaten finally looked back at her and shrugged honestly. "But it is better than nothing."

~ ~ ~

As they grew near to Mount Tmil, Slaten began to wonder if they could possibly arrive without encountering a truly dangerous enemy. Yes, they had been working for many days to prepare the way, but he had assumed that another obstacle would rise before them. Yet Melal strode on, increasingly confident that he walked the path of the Legend.

The real path had become increasingly steep, and Slaten felt the air struggle to escape his body. Others claimed that it would become far worse at the peak of Mount Tmil, so they might need to leave Natala and Laeri at the base of the ascent. Allegedly a village sat there, tied to the Sage atop the mountain and so falling under his protection. If they reached it, they would finally be safe.

When Slaten gripped the stone ledge above him, he was surprised how painfully it dug into his hand. He forced himself past the pain and pulled himself to the top. Once there, he looked more closely and saw to his surprise that beneath the dirt and layer of small gray rocks shone dark black stone.

He slowly brushed them aside, revealing more of the dark stone that reminded him of the Chorhan Expanse. Instead of jet black shot with crimson, silvery threads ran through the darkness. Instead of being worn smooth by wind and rain, these must have fallen from a greater height, broken apart into sharp edges. This piece had clearly fallen ages ago, yet the edges retained much of their sharpness.

Though the somewhat familiar stone made Slaten feel strangely comfortable, it was irrelevant. He straightened at the top of the rise, and that was when he saw it across the next several hills:

A village sat alone at the base of a great mountain.

~ ~ ~

Tmil Village appeared to have no walls or guards, which put the Bloodskin warriors far more on edge than any army. They crept closer down several well-worn paths that connected a few outlying houses and wells. No one appeared to oppose them, and Slaten could see people going about their business ahead, without any sign that they noticed something was wrong.

There had been some argument about how best to approach. Melal had insisted that they would be welcomed and escorted directly up the side of the mountain to meet the Sage. Most of the others were not so confident, and they won out in the end, so the group advanced as if preparing for a raid.

Until a man dropped out of the sky in front of them. In the instant the man landed, Slaten felt the world tilt toward him.

Though he had dark hair and light eyes, just like many of the raiding clans, this warrior stood as if he strode across mountains. The hair hanging about his shoulders was gray, but he otherwise looked to be in the prime of his life. He wore only a few cloths, several around his waist and one hanging across his shoulders. His bare chest was muscular, but less massive than many Bloodskin warriors. He was tall, but not as tall as Slaten, much less Chief Bufogu.

Yet the Chief of the Bloodskins and everyone else took a step back when he arrived.

"This place is not for you." The master warrior rolled his shoulders with an audible grinding and smiled. "The only difference between all of you leaving and all of you dying is whether I have to wash my hands afterwards."

An overwhelming sense of scale descended on Slaten, as if he stood at the edge of a cliff, seeing mountains upon mountains rising before him. The only time he had felt the same sensation was when he faced the Zeitai, his training since then only allowing him to see the distance between them more clearly.

In that moment, the roads of power coalesced into peaks. He could see that the Catai stood atop the mountain he now climbed. Chief Bufogu and many others stood atop a yet higher peak. The Zeitai and this man stood in a misty realm so far beyond he could no longer see the peaks. Just as it had been with the Zeitai, Slaten realized that his strength would be completely useless if he attempted to fight. All of them together would not be enough.

"Don't get in my way!" Melal stepped forward, out of the group, immediately drawing all eyes. The man frowned and started to raise one hand, a casual gesture that somehow carried a threat. Yet he paused. "I am the Hero, Savior of the Coran Resistance! The only reason you even guard the Sage is because he's waiting for me."

"Huh." The master examined him, utterly unconcerned by Melal's approach. "The Sage will decide if you tell the truth. Follow me."

As they walked into the village, more and more of the inhabitants turned to look at them. Slaten saw many shades of hair and colors of skin, almost reminding him of the diversity of Bundlin. Most wore layered cloths like the raiders, generally in drab colors, but otherwise they clearly had different origins. They watched silently, pulling away if any of the Bloodskins drew close.

Most of the raiders stayed back, intimidated by the overwhelming strength of the master who guarded the village. Chief Bufogu moved forward to only two paces behind him, however, and Slaten hastened to catch up and overhear their conversation.

"You must be the great master Aganomu."

"Aye, they've called me that." Aganomu glanced up at the other man the way one might look at a rambunctious animal.

"Then why do you spend your days here, guarding an old man, when you could conquer nations?"

"You think it would be as easy as all that? Don't answer, it doesn't matter. I've found something more important to do with my strength. If the Sage will meet with you, you'll understand."

This clearly frustrated Bufogu, but he remained silent. Melal chose that moment to come up beside them. "And what about this Sage? Is he everything that was promised, or is he another washed up drunkard?"

"Sage Tuvano is the greatest of his kind." Aganomu gestured about him to the villagers. "Many here can see as he does, but none can see as far. If Tuvano accepts you, then you will learn more. If not, then you will not be allowed to leave."

"You would keep us here?" Bufogu asked, straightening furiously.

Aganomu only chuckled darkly in response.

"It doesn't matter." Melal ignored the tension between them and looked forward to the mountain that rose rapidly ahead. "He will recognize me as the Hero and then I will step forward into the Legend."

Nothing was said to that, for what could be said? Slaten found his eyes wandering toward the steep path ahead. The village sprawled across the hill, but beyond it, a set of stone stairs began ascending a cliff. Looking above, he saw Mount Tmil extend skyward, higher than even these mountains.

He and Melal had been training in the Bloodskin art of breathing, and his strengthened body would surely help the climb. Even so, he found himself wondering how such a climb could be possible. Higher up the mountain he saw no stone stairs, so unless they were hidden...

"What in the blazing hells is all this?"

Everyone turned to find who had spoken. Slaten saw an older girl as she emerged from one of the larger buildings. She appeared a few years before womanhood, yet she regarded them with a cynical expression that would have been at home on a much older woman's face.

"Aganomu, are you playing some game again?"

"This one claims to be the Hero." The master jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Melal, prompting the girl to peer at him. "I can tell that something's different about him, but he's weak. I figured it was for Sage Tuvano to decide."

"Fortunately, he's visiting at the moment." The girl turned around, putting her hands to her mouth to yell. "Grandfather! The Hero is here!" After an uncomfortable pause in which everyone strained to listen for a response, the girl turned back to them with a smile. "Okay, you can see him. I have some tea, so if you wait, I'll make you some."

Though disrupted by this turn of events, the group of raiders began to move toward the house. Abruptly the girl raised one finger to her lips. "Not all of you. Only the Hero... and you, and you." Without the slightest hesitation, she pointed to Slaten and Laeri. Slaten's eyes widened. The two of them were the most obviously foreign within the group, but could she have picked them out some other way?

Chief Bufogu started to object, but Aganomu stepped into his path. The master didn't say a word, but that was all it took. After the Bloodskins backed down, Aganomu grinned at them. "Cheer up, boys, the old man isn't usually very interesting. But we make some good ale, if you're thirsty..."

As he left, Slaten looked back and made eye contact with Natala. Though she clearly wanted to join them, she couldn't go against Aganomu. Instead she followed behind the Bloodskin group, keeping her distance. That left only three of them outside the house with the girl.

"My name is Julapa," she told them. "I help my grandfather whenever I can. I think he'll want to speak to all three of you, so please just follow me."

Though Slaten did so, he found himself glancing over at her. "Why did you choose us?"

"Most lives only meet the Legend once, a brief intersection or a final point. Only those who walk alongside it glow with... uh... fuck." Julapa muttered the words under her breath again as if trying to remember. "My grandfather has many sayings about things and I can't remember them all. But I could see that the two of you are his true companions. Everybody else has to stay outside."

"That's nice, girl." Melal patted her roughly on the head. "Now where is the Sage?"

"Don't get your britches all twisted. Just follow me."

As Julapa led them into the house, Slaten found himself staring at her. Melal was wrong: she was not just a girl. Though he knew he had no right to make such judgments, part of Slaten felt certain that she was a Sage. Judging from the way she spoke, a Sage who had grown up working with a coarse old man. By the time they reached Sage Tuvano, he wasn't sure what to expect.

Most of the house appeared simple and rustic, though of better construction than any in the Bloodskin village. He barely saw it before they were ushered into a darkened room filled by an ornate table of red wood. Across from it sat the Sage himself.

Tuvano appeared to be a very old man, balding but with pure white hair cascading down his shoulders. He wore several simple brown cloths, but Slaten could barely look at them. All his attention was absorbed by the man's presence, focused in piercing blue eyes.

A hush dominated the room and Slaten realized that he was feeling something that he had never experienced except in the Hero's presence. The sense of awe was different, yet he felt a deeper commonality. Perhaps what he felt in both was not an individual's strength, but the Legend itself. His mind struggled with the feelings pressed upon it, leaving Slaten mute as the old man spoke.

"Welcome. I am the Great Sage Tuvano, and th-"

"What are you doing down here?" Melal pushed inward and slammed his hand against the table. "I am supposed to climb to the heights of Mount Tmil for an audience with you. Why are you waiting in a mere house?"

"Do you expect me to sit atop a mountain for decades waiting for you? Don't be absurd." Though Tuvano's voice was resonant, it contained an edge of humor that ran against his stern countenance. "Besides, you do not deserve to meet me atop the mountain."

"What? But I'm the Hero!"

"No. You're not."

The words cracked the room. Melal reeled back and drew his sword, which shone despite the darkness around them. As he leveled the blade toward the old man, Slaten feared for a moment that he would strike Tuvano down after coming so far. Yet Tuvano swelled on his side of the room, the light only illuminating him instead of intimidating. For a moment, he seemed to observe them from the will of the heavens themselves.

Then they were only standing in an ordinary room. Slowly Melal's arm dropped and he put his sword away.

"There, that's better. Why don't you have a seat?" When all of them did so, Sage Tuvano continued in a more somber voice. "What does it mean to be the Hero? It does not mean to possess power, it means to use power to bring the Legend to completion. You have stepped into the Legend, but you have not yet walked the path. It is not time for you to climb the mountain, not yet."

"Then what must I do?" Melal asked.

"You have many great tasks before you, but today I ask only that you listen. What is the Legend, truly? It is the story that resonates in the heart of all, yet it is more than that. It is the certainty that flows through and from our hearts. The Hero is not the Legend any more than the fruit is the plant that bears it. So the Legend is not some simple quest or journey, it is the growth of the world itself."

Such abstract language left Slaten slightly dazed. Just as in the early days when he had stood in horrified awe of the Hero, he felt part of himself being swept away. Though he struggled against it as well as he could and tried to listen to the words instead of the majestic tone, he wondered what Tani would hear if she had been present.

He was barely aware of the others. Melal stared utterly entranced by the words, his back straightening and his eyes burning with new purpose. Beside him, Slaten could just see Laeri listening with her lips slightly parted. All three remained silent as the Sage continued.

"The path of the Legend is not any number of steps across the earth, it is the shape of everything. You must understand that it touches everyone, both your allies and your enemies. Most importantly, the Legend flows through the Deathspawn. They are your partner in this dance, and only with their help can the Legend reach fruition in the final battle."

Though Melal nodded as if that made sense, Slaten struggled against it. His throat was thick with unspoken meaning, yet he forced himself to speak. "What does that actually mean? Why would the Deathspawn seek the Legend if it means all of them will die?"

Sage Tuvano stared at him, bushy eyebrows rising, then he shook his head slowly. "They travel toward their final doom because they must. It is their purpose to perish, so that their evil may be ended forever."

"I understand, Sage Tuvano." Melal lowered his head as if accepting a great weight. "But am I not ready to slay the Deathspawn?"

"You may slay some, but they are far ahead of you on the path, young Hero. For generations, the Legend has been driving them to conquer the world. If you were to do battle with the Zeitai now, much less face the Dark Lord himself, then the Legend could never bear fruit."

"Then what must I do to catch up?"

"All cultures speak of the Legend, but most retellings are broken. Many are missing a crucial element: the seals." Tuvano sat back and stroked his chin, and for the first time Slaten noticed that the Sage had thick white stubble. It looked out of place with his grandiose appearance. "I must wonder if that is intentional, for I fear your great opponent has been moving against you since before you were born. But no matter, let me explain.

"Throughout the world lie nine seals that contain the hope of both humanity and and the Deathspawn. When the Deathspawn seize hold of them, they raise up another Zeitai to stand against you. Yet you can wrest the seals back from their control, and when you do, they are forever part of the Legend."

"Seals?" Laeri spoke this time, breathless as if the word held some great meaning, and it did seem that the word carried with it a brilliant hope. Slaten struggled to remain opaque against the violating transcendence.

"I cannot tell you what form they will take... but I can tell you that you have already found one, young Hero. It seems that you already walk firmly in the Legend, though you have so far yet to go."

Melal sat back, a bit of his old satisfaction on his face. "The Legend led me to steal it from the Deathspawn's very fingers. But that means that there are eight more, scattered across the entire world..."

"As it happens, what I want is for you to perform the same theft again." Tuvano sat back in his chair, again more an old man than a symbol. "There is another seal that has not yet been claimed, but the Deathspawn are close... troublingly close. If you can take it from them and prevent another Zeitai from being born, then you will have advanced far enough for me to speak to you directly."

"Where must I go?"

"The seal has appeared only in my dreams, so I cannot tell you the precise location. But I know that it lies to the north, within the three great nations of the Maenhu. I received other broken glimpses that I have tried to gather together into a meaningful picture... my little Julapa can give you a map that shows you what we know so far."

"Then I will not fail you!" Melal rose to his feet, his hand on his sword as if he had never drawn it on the old man. "I will return with the seal and receive your wisdom atop Mount Tmil!"

"There is one more thing. Before the end, you will need companions." Tuvano finally took his gaze from Melal, letting it rest on Slaten and then Laeri. "These two may serve you well, but you will need more allies who can walk alongside you."

"I hope the Bloodskins will follow me... and there are two others. They split from us before we could arrive, but I believe they hold the Legend within their hearts."

"If they do, then I promise that they will find you in the north. They will see your path in their dreams and feel it in their hearts." The Sage settled back in his chair and closed his eyes. "Go now, meet them and find the seal."

That seemed to be enough for Melal, who turned around and marched from the room as if he intended to cross the mountains that very day. Slaten forced himself to remain. Against his will he rose to his feet, but he pressed his hands down on the table and gripped it to retain himself.

"I have more questions."

"Go, companion. If you survive long enough to return, I will have words regarding your destiny. For now, my eyes have grown tired."

"But I-" Slaten cut off as an overwhelmingly powerful hand closed on his shoulder. He saw that Aganomu stood behind him, as silent and all-encompassing as the night. As the master began to pull him away, Slaten realized that he had only one chance and shouted. "I saw a pale city in golden flames!"

Tuvano's hand shot up and Aganomu hesitated. For a moment Slaten froze, wondering if he was about to die a quick death, but then Tuvano let out a long sigh. "Let him stay, Aganomu. It seems I cannot rest just yet."

The master slid from the room with a respectful nod. As Slaten sat back down, he realized that Laeri was still present as well. He had expected her to rush after Melal, yet her eyes held a determination that equaled his own. Though he was curious about her, he realized that he needed all his focus if he wanted to speak to the Sage.

"What you glimpsed," Tuvano said slowly, "was the Legend within yourself. Perhaps it was calling you to be the Hero's companion, perhaps not. I can feel your lust for power, so let me speak plainly: you may believe that you would be a better Hero, but that is not your destiny. It cannot be."

"I've seen Heroes die." As he croaked out the words, Slaten realized that they made him sound even more hungry for power, yet it was all that he could force out. He needed the Sage to stop intoning majestic destinies and address him as another human being.

To his surprise, it seemed to work. Tuvano raised an eyebrow and shifted back to a more comfortable position before speaking again. "That explains the strange darkness in you. The fact that you have seen such things and not lost faith is commendable."

"I need you to tell me why."

"The Legend's path is... not as straight as we might imply." The old man actually seemed to have a bit of a sly gleam in his eye. "It is not a prophecy etched in stone, it is a plant growing toward its full potential. If one Hero falls... well, he was never truly the Hero, not in the Legend's eyes. But his successes and failures feed the soil that raises the next. The plant cannot be cut off at the root, it is only pruned so that it grows ever faster."

Slaten swallowed. "Heroes will keep dying until the Legend is complete?"

"It isn't that simple, boy. I told you earlier: everything feeds into the Legend. Far more than any of the Hero's triumphs, the greatest factor feeding it is actually the Deathspawn invasions. That is why I have gathered some who can see the Legend in this community, and why I hope you succeed. We must not allow them to influence too much."

"What are they trying to accomplish? Could they control the Legend?"

"Impossible." Tuvano scowled and drummed his fingers on the table in a manner that was decidedly un-sage-like. "Truthfully, I have long struggled to understand this. The end of the path may be certain, but the steps taken are... malleable. I suspect that they hope to kill so many humans that when the Dark Lord falls and the Deathspawn perish, we die along with them."

The Sage's words echoed in his mind, not their unnatural resonance but their actual meaning. Was the death of every mansthein in the world truly inevitable? If so, then the least violent path would be to complete the Legend as soon as possible. Yet that made him think of Celivia, who would no doubt want to end the violence by having him surrender...

"Umm, Sage Tuvano?" Laeri's voice pulled him from his mental knots. The old man glanced over at her.

"Eh? Speak up, girl."

"I also have... a question about the Hero. I want to believe in him, and I..." Laeri clutched at her robe over her heart. "I have... so many feelings for him, I don't know what to believe. But... I saw other Heroes too. They seemed so focused, so full of purpose... with Melal, I... I..."

As Slaten stared at Laeri, to his surprise Tuvano chuckled. The Sage shifted in his chair to stare out a small window, quiet for a time before he responded.

"Let us forget the metaphor of a plant for now. Instead, think of the Legend as water, and we are all vessels. Most vessels contain a great many objects, so when the water fills them... it soon runs over. It may seem as though the vessel carries much water, and it will be quite heavy, but in truth it is mostly filled with random trinkets.

"Many of those who could be Heroes seek the power to accomplish other ends. Their vessels may grow heavy and they may awaken awe in all who see them. But the Legend exists for itself, not for any other purpose. Attempting to bend it to another purpose will ultimately fail, and those who attempt to do so will never carry forward its full purpose."

Laeri took in a deep breath, as if she had understood. "Then... Melal..."

"He is a remarkably empty vessel, but do not mistake that for weakness. Day by day, the water of the Legend fills him. When it is finally full and he begins to shine as others have... that will be something to behold. So take heart, both of you. I believe that you may be companions to the one who will become the greatest man in all of history."

As a surge of hope swelled around him, Slaten saw only darkness.

- End of Part 2 -

Interlude

Revgaad was a lousy little city, but it was lousy in an interesting way. It had no particular claim to fame except that it sat near the beginning of the Wahltiid River, which put it between human Wahleen, mansthein Wahleen, and the border with Portant. It was the site of all manner of chicanery.

As he padded along the street, Gahlun swept his eyes from side to side over the rooftops. Just in case there were any Deathspawn or errants lurking around. The problem with Revgaad was that there were strong fighters everywhere, doing whatever they did. Having Steelmasters and the like around meant that fewer weaker fighters were necessary, but sometimes they skulked about, trying to impress their betters.

When they didn't, that was when Gahlun could make a real profit.

On his way to his next meeting, he had to duck into the shadows several times to avoid Deathspawn soldiers. Marching around like they owned the place. Their presence meant that there were mansthein nobles in the city, which just meant his job was harder. This group might not know his face, but there had been that incident in Throne Wahles...

He found his contact in the usual place, a shoddy bar not far from the river. Waalut was a good sort, a pickpocket who had stolen his way up and now was a deft hand at making parts of shipments disappear. Though he never wore furs like the uppity mansthein, he had the reddish coloring of good Wahleenese mansthein. Solid sort.

"Why are there so many Deathspawn out today?" Gahlun didn't bother with any greetings, not with an old friend like Waalut. "Somebody in town?"

"Meeting of some sort of important types. Trying to negotiate something big."

"Any chance we can make something off of them?"

"Nah, these aren't merchants. Politician types." Waalut finished gnawing the bone that remained from his meat and then wiped off his hands. "They're trying to negotiate some kind of southern campaign to eliminate all the raiders."

Gahlun snorted. "That again? I wonder if they do it just to give them something to do."

"Well, it's got nothing to do with us either way. I assume you're here about the Estronese ore?"

"Actually, it does got something to do with us." Gahlun didn't want to deliver the bad news, but he always thought it was best to rip the scab off quick. "The next merchants found the caravan torn apart, and the raiders just dumped the metal into the mountains. They've written it off."

"Shit." Waalut dropped his head into his hands, but Gahlun frowned.

"Now see here. This sets us back, but there's no need for cursing. A man shouldn't need to curse."

Waalut rolled his eyes, but his irritation didn't last long. "I don't see how you can shrug this off. I made promises about that metal. I was counting on getting a good cut for doing the usual."

"It hurts everybody equally, as I see it. We've just got to find the opportunity here." Gahlun leaned closer and lowered his voice. "We're not the only ones the raiders have hit. Seems like Khenoon was also moving something important and got hornswoggled. As I see it, he'll be willing to pay a pretty penny for foreign goods right now."

"Khenoon? Really?"

"Seems like he was trying to send something along the western routes instead of the eastern. Something to do with new Deathspawn movement in the south, none of my business. I think this could be a real chance for us... but I can't talk to Khenoon myself."

"So you're not just here about the metal." Waalut eyed him carefully. "I assume you have an angle."

"Of course."

"If I get you in to see Khenoon, you cut me in?"

"Even profits, same as always. I need you for more than the introduction."

"Deal." Waalut rose to his feet and stuck out a hand, so Gahlun quickly clasped it. He'd been pretty sure it would work out, but it was still good to know. Despite his words, losing the metal scam had cost him too.

They waited for it to get dark and then wandered out of the tavern like a pair of drunken friends to avoid attention. On the way they talked about all the new nonsense, same as they talked about the weather. It was all politics in the end, way above their heads, except the nobles dropped something less pleasant than rain. Waalut had a more colorful phrase and for once Gahlun let it slide.

As he saw it, they'd never actually get a campaign together against the raiders, just like Revgaad would never actually go to war. Too many people of too many types. Even just walking, he saw too many Portantese people around. Technically they were part of Wahleen now, but they still had family over the border. Same with all the mansthein split up now that the new Deathspawn armies had come in.

Both of them had to hide again when a bunch of young errants went by. Marching around like they owned the place. Waalut went on about how the mansthein were arguing about taking on the local ranks, but Gahlun had never paid attention to all that nonsense. If you had warriors in your business, you were already half-way to a boondoggle.

When they reached the river, they crept along the dank edges to the lower entrance to the wheelhouse. The wheel still turned, and it still moved a grindstone, but that was just for show. Everyone who wasn't someone knew that it was the base of Khenoon, the biggest mansthein boss in Revgaad. With so many soldiers in town, he only had mansthein guards outside, but he worked with anyone who could pay. Except Gahlun hadn't had the pleasure, which was why he needed Waalut to get him in.

"We heard that Khenoon could use a few things," Waalut said. The guard wore his armor errant style, but with his helm propped up on the back of his head. Something was off about his expression.

"Khenoon ain't seeing nobody."

"But it's already dark! This is the best time to do business."

"Not like that. Not nobody." The guard looked around at the others, who looked downright lugubrious, then spoke in a low voice. "You know how Khenoon always talked about wanting to bring his family here?"

"I've heard." Waalut shifted uncomfortably, and though Gahlun kept himself still, he liked it even less.

"Well, he reckoned he could get around human Wahleen by sending his boy along the west. And the raiders just killed him. Didn't ask for a ransom or nothing, just fucking killed him."

"Watch your tongue," Gahlun said. "A boy is dead, no need for that."

The guard stared at him, incredulous. "What's this shit now?"

"Easy." Waalut stepped in between them. "So Khenoon is grieving, as he should. Did he at least get the body?"

"It ain't pretty, but he did. That's what's got him down." The guard slowly shook his head and looked between them. "Khenoon's second wants more of those human spices, if you're looking to offload something. But here... you'd better just keep your distance."

"We appreciate that." Gahlun nodded politely to the guard and started to step away, but the mansthein grabbed his arm.

"Actually, you... maybe you'd better keep your distance too. With all these Deathspawn in town, even the boss is getting pressure not to work with humans. Talk of war and all that shit."

"Careful there."

"Oh, shut it. I'm trying to warn you, be careful."

Gahlun nodded, but didn't believe it for a second. Wahleen and Portant liked to fight over who was bigger, but it never came to anything except among errants. When he was a kid, Gahlun remembered a time when Revgaad had been claimed by Portant and it hadn't changed a thing.

As he figured it, the Deathspawn were no different. A few liked to talk about how it might come to war, but everybody knew one another too well. They had a system that worked and they stuck to it. The only way it could go bad was if a real idiot came through pulverizing everything.

"I don't like this." Once they were further away from the wheelhouse, Waalut spoke. "Two important shipments through the mountains, two of them destroyed? Like the will of the heavens is out to get us."

"Don't talk superstitious poppycock." Gahlun elbowed his friend in the ribs. "Think about it: those two caravans got ambushed on the opposite sides of the mountains. They've got nothing to do with one another. Just bad luck. If we keep our heads down, we can find good luck again."

"I hope so... you have any contacts for spices?"

"Maybe. It would be toilsome, and... well, after all this, I need to think. Same place tomorrow?"

"Aye. I'll shake my contacts and see if anything falls out."

As Waalut left, Gahlun continued down the dark street. There was no light but starlight out here, and as long as he didn't get his purse cut, he was safe. Errants and Deathspawn didn't come to this part of Revgaad anyway. Gahlun always went to the darkest streets when he needed to think.

The problem was, his friend's comment about the bad luck was getting to him. Those raiders might be stupid, but were they stupid enough to just waste valuable metal and hostages? It reminded him of whenever a new operator came into the city, trying to do things their own way and discombobulating the system. He didn't want to believe that there was anyone who could upset the whole balance between nations, yet he found himself wondering if something wasn't changing...

"Evening." The voice came from a figure in a shadowy alley and Gahlun immediately turned away.

"Not looking to talk."

Vaulting over him in a single leap, the figure cut off his path. A trained warrior, then. Looked mansthein, but in the shadows Gahlun could only see something bright in his mouth. "I think you do want to talk, Gahlun. After I helped you with a certain incident, you owe me a favor."

Gahlun stared and realized that he recognized the mansthein man after all. "Well, shit."

Part 3

Circling Destiny

Chapter 24

-

"Whether or not the humans have a champion with unnatural powers is irrelevant. What matters is that this warrior proposes nothing less than the complete genocide of all mansthein, and convinces other humans to join his cause. If he can successfully unite groups across continents, or even mend the divisions in the Eternal Empire, then they will outnumber us. Can we allow such a thing to come to pass?"

- excerpt from a speech by Senatorios Ulhaliol

-

As Tani ran, the forest melted around her. Trees dropped away into the ground, tearing holes in the earth as they fell into nothingness. No matter how many steps she took, she never seemed able to reach the top of the mountain, which abruptly collapsed inward, inverting into a terrible chasm.

She recognized that she was dreaming, but that wasn't enough to wake her, not this time. Tani clenched her eyes, yet in the dream she could still see everything as she fell. The willful movement helped her focus, gathering her mental techniques around herself. When she saw the pale city beneath her, she refused to submit to its beauty.

Everything finally melted away and a new vision impacted on her mind: a path north, traveling along a river. Exactly where all the other dreams had led her.

"I'm going." Tani muttered the words and realized that she actually said them aloud as she drifted back to wakefulness. She was horribly tangled in the blanket around her and slowly extricated herself. By the time she could stand, she had mostly shed the weight of dreams.

She looked over the two distinct clusters of their camp. The Steelbone warriors lay around one fire, most without blankets because they simply didn't need them. Tani and several other women huddled in a smaller group, some distance away. Though some of those women thought of themselves as Steelbones, Tani couldn't think of them that way.

"You looked like you were having a bad dream." Cabari sat nearby, her arms around her bundle. The other woman gazed at her searchingly, but Tani only smiled and shook her head.

"Just a dream. Do you think we'll leave soon?"

"The warriors were saying that we'd arrive today. If we do, then it sounds like we'll split into two groups." Cabari hugged her bundle tighter. "Do you really think we'll be able to sell these? If we came all this way for nothing, Mohuno might be angry..."

"I'm certain they'll sell. I've never felt anything so soft." Tani sat down and put a reassuring hand on the other woman's arm, but in truth she was trying to convince herself as well. The Steelbones had traveled a long way through dangerous territory to reach this point. Regardless of Mohuno's promise, she knew that it had been difficult to convince his warriors.

If her claims about being able to trade proved false, that might turn opinion against her. Tani knew that she could escape, but the same could not be said for Cabari and the other villagers. Some had acted relieved to move to the Steelbone village, but Tani worried about them. There was so little that she could do for them, she had to hope that trading ombo wool proved their value to the warriors.

"I wish Rubako was here," Cabari whispered. It was the first time in the entire trip that she had mentioned her brother, but her voice held a deep loneliness.

"I understand, Cabari, but he needs to be there to look out for the other villagers."

"But who will look out for him?" As Cabari turned to look at Tani, her eyes held a different sort of concern. "He might try to fight the Steelbones, but if he doesn't... if they accept him, I worry... I don't want him to..."

"That won't happen, because you'll be there for him." Tani shifted closer and gave the best smile she could. "If you can set up trade in ombo wool, maybe you won't be reliant on warriors for everything."

"Not likely." Mohuno's voice from beside them made both women jump. He stood just outside their cluster with his arms folded, eyes locked on her. "No matter the profits, this trip is too dangerous to make normally. I only agreed because we promised to escort you. Speaking of that, come on."

He shifted his feet impatiently, so Tani only grabbed the weapons she wasn't wearing and followed. Though she felt slightly uncomfortable to leave without her supplies, she could trust Cabari and the others to bring them. As for Mohuno... her trust for him was a stunted thing, but it existed. They had been traveling together for days, after all, and he had shown no failings beyond those she already knew.

"We need to scout ahead," he told her as they left the camp. "I think everyone can reach the camp today, but we should check on it first. Other clans do raid here sometimes."

She accepted that logic, but didn't have time to say anything before he abruptly leapt forward. Mohuno grinned back over his shoulder, challenge evident in every quirk of his face. Despite herself, Tani began to run after him.

The gentle hills and valleys melted away as they raced ahead. Though Mohuno's raw speed was superior to hers, propelled by those obscenely strong muscles, she had an edge when it came to agility. When they ran through trees or over crags, she started to pass him, but whenever they had a straight path or a place to leap, he pulled ahead of her. She might have grown familiar with moving through the mountains, but he had been born in them.

Tani found herself looking over at Mohuno more than she wanted. In their time together, he remained consistently frustrating. He could see further ahead than the other men in his clan, and in some ways he could even be flexible. Yet in the end, just when she thought he might actually change, he would simply laugh off her arguments and continue onward.

Before she could finish sorting through her thoughts, they arrived. After they passed one final rise, they found themselves looking over a river and the trading camp beside it. Beyond, she could see only desolate sands, and at once Tani understood why all trade through the Sotunn Desert went over one of the two rivers: trying to take any other route would mean crossing a wasteland devoid of water.

"I haven't been here in a long time." Mohuno stared down, not at the desert, but at the camp below. "It's larger than before. Some of the merchants might be coming here, since the Deathspawn control the eastern river."

"Is there any danger of them here?"

"No, the Deathspawn lurk mostly in Wahleen. Here, the threat is errants from Espal or Portant. There's... no rush to go down. Take it in."

She wasn't sure if he knew that she wanted time or not, but she accepted it. From their height, it was difficult to make out details of the people across the sprawling camp, but she had improved since she'd set into the mountains from the south. Tani took a deep breath, drawing on the feeling of looking across an endless plain or from a soaring peak, then focused her sein on her eyes.

Many of the people in the camp had dark hair and light skin, like the raiding clans, but she suspected they were only local villagers. Her attention was instead drawn to the unfamiliar. Most strikingly, she saw a great many warriors wearing full suits of metal, covering even more of their bodies than Coran armor. Aside from them, she saw merchants in finely crafted clothes of green and purple, both men and women with garments wrapped around their neck and shoulders against the cold.

To her knowledge, Tani was the first Nelee to travel north of the Sotunn Mountains. When the Nelee explored, they mostly traveled south to the far-off land of Tur-Nol. Other Rhen had gone north - it was well-known that the West Wind had trained in the north - but they were not part of her tribe or her life. For her purposes, she was breaking new ground.

"Are we going to explore the camp?" she asked after some time. To her surprise, Mohuno merely turned to her with a grin.

"We've already seen that there are only a few errants. That's all we needed to do, and the others will catch up. Eventually." He stepped closer to her, again so they were almost touching. "The important thing is that no one is looking for us. Anything we do now, no one will know."

"So no one will know that I think you're insufferable."

"I don't know, you've suffered me for a long time. I think you want to suffer a little more." Mohuno reached down and brushed a lock of hair away from her face, not touching her skin. Her breath caught and Tani hung in the balance.

She actually considered it. Since Mohuno would never follow her into the desert, she would likely never see him again. Infuriating as he could be, the frustration that bubbled between them might lead to something enjoyable. Even if he was inconsiderate, she might be able to find some relief and then leave the memories behind.

Eventually she punched him lightly in the stomach. "You probably think I'll be so entranced by your prowess that you'll be able to convince me to return with you."

"Maybe." Mohuno rubbed his stomach, but the way his eyes danced, she could see that it had only interested him further. "Perhaps it will go the other way. I won't be able to live without you, and I'll follow you off on your mad journey. Don't you think it's worth the chance?"

"You are ridiculous." Tani turned away to hide the smile on her face, though she didn't second-guess her decision. The woman she had once been might have taken the chance, but now she thought too much about the uncontrolled violence she had seen in him. No, it would only bring up dark memories.

"I will weep over this every night, but so be it." Mohuno turned away with an exaggerated sigh and instead stared below. "Will I at least get to meet this Hero who has you so entranced?"

"Hopefully." She had no reason to believe it except one: this was not the first time she had seen the river. It had visited her every night in her dreams. If she had summoned all her willpower, she might have been able to reject the dreams and sever herself from this Legend.

Instead, she walked down toward the camp in hopes of finding the Hero.

~ ~ ~

Legendary destiny or not, Tani soon came to accept that it was not to be. She began to wonder if the others had yet to arrive, even worried that something might have happened to them. Eventually she spoke with a few merchants who had seen a group that she was sure was Melal and the Bloodskins: getting on a ship and heading north along the river. So she had no choice but to follow.

As she walked back to join the others, she was surprised by how frequently she didn't understand the words around her. Some traded in Coran, and she'd had no difficulty with her questions, but most often she heard a language that sounded rough and guttural to her. She assumed it must be Reili and wished that she had time to learn it. No one spoke Nelhae, of course.

Though lacking the comfort of familiarity, Tani found the unfamiliar words strangely relaxing. No part of her mind attempted to understand them, rendering them a babble of humanity that left her free to focus on her surroundings. Not that she felt insecure. The heavily armored warriors had left her uncertain at first, yet they kept order in the camp and she never saw them abusing their authority.

When she eventually found Cabari, she discovered the young woman sitting down on a crate and clutching a single wool cloth. For a moment Tani thought that she had been robbed, yet the two Steelbone raiders beside her stood unperturbed. Tani distractedly noted that they had changed their cloths to different patterns, avoiding any identification as raiders. Mohuno might not have fully invested in her idea, but he did conduct his business carefully.

"Is everything alright?" Tani asked. Cabari looked up at her blankly.

"There's just one left." She numbly held up the last cloth as if to demonstrate. "Lots of merchants wanted to buy them. I've never seen so many people... or spent so long arguing... I, um, I have money now..."

Cabari fumbled with a sack and nearly spilled it across the ground. Tani snapped out a hand and caught the fabric before it could spill, pulling the sack upright. The sack felt heavy, though not as heavy as she had expected. When Tani reached in to examine the money, she was surprised to find that the coins appeared to be made from a heavy, dark wood. She experimentally scratched one with the edge of a throwing knife and found that it made no mark until she began to use her sein.

She wished that she could have purchased one of the cloaks herself. The cold in the mountains had not been as fierce as she'd feared, but the raiders implied that the current season was warm and would soon turn to one of greater cold. If they had the same strange phases in the north, she was concerned that she might freeze.

"The poor girl isn't used to bargaining." The new voice came from a middle aged woman who approached them, bearing a steaming cup. "Why don't you drink this, dear?"

Still a bit shocked, Cabari accepted the cup and drank without any apparent awareness. Tani reflected that it was almost a bit like seinshock, though hopefully merchantshock would quickly resolve itself. The woman rubbed Cabari's back a few times, then turned back to Tani.

"Are you one of the girl's guards?"

"Something like that," Tani said. "So the ombo wool was popular here?"

"Oh, it's always been valued. Years ago I bought a cage of the beasts and tried to raise them in Portant, since I would have made a killing in winter. But the poor ombos suffer down here, especially in the summer. Their hair becomes thin and stringy, and the cloth you make from it..." She clucked her tongue and swung her head back and forth as if it shouldn't be mentioned.

Though Tani wasn't clear on the details, she understood the general idea. She was glad that her plan seemed to have been successful - part of her had feared that the north would be filled with the furry creatures, and the ombo wool worthless. In that case... "Would more people want them, if they could create more?"

"They'd be worth a tidy sum, but enough to justify hiring errants? I think not. And unless you have strong errants, or a Steeljudge, then there's too great a risk of losing everything in the Sotunns. If I could somehow get pure ombo wool, sew it into quality garments, and get it safely into Portant... well, I wouldn't need to be here today, let me tell you!"

"Thank you for helping me." Cabari had finished the drink and handed the cup to the woman with a smile, seeming to have returned to herself. "I am... from a very small village. This was too much for me."

"Don't you worry about a thing, dear." The woman patted her on the cheek before taking her cup back. "You clearly have fine animals back home, and well cared for. Next time you'll be able to drive an even harder bargain!"

The two of them spoke with the woman for a while longer, and soon enough a man came to purchase the last cloth. Business finished, they said their farewells and left the trading camp. As they did so, Cabari moved closer to her and spoke in a low voice.

"I couldn't have done this without you. Would you... would you like some of the money? To help you go north?"

"Keep it." Tani smiled at the other woman and closed her hands over the sack. "Use it to help rebuild, or to make more wool to sell. The people I'm going to meet... they tend not to care about money."

"I hope I can." Cabari made the sack vanish between the layers of cloth around her. "You don't think Mohuno will take it from me?"

"I won't let him. He had nothing to do with this."

"If... even if that's true, he won't let me go again. He doesn't think trading is worth it."

Tani made her smile more encouraging. "He might change his mind. He's open to new ideas, after all."

When they returned to the Steelbone circle outside camp, however, Tani realized that something else was wrong. All the raiders had changed their cloths, not to the drab combinations that the guards wore, but an organized green color scheme. Fearing that she might understand exactly what was afoot, Tani sought out Mohuno.

"Just what is all this?"

"The Steelbones are going to journey back home." Mohuno spread his arms to either side to raise his garments dramatically. "But it seems another clan is going to raid into errant territory! They might be a bit surprised when the errants come after them, but by then the mysterious raiders will be long gone."

Of course. Tani realized that she was scowling and didn't care. She had been lying to herself about who Mohuno was: a raider. And she was a fool for thinking that her words could have any impact on him at all. As she stormed away, she heard Mohuno call after her, not fully comprehending her rage, but she didn't care.

Instead she merely said farewell to Cabari and left the raiders, instead returning to the trading camp. As she did so, the overwhelming bitterness gave way to the realization that she might have left too soon. Part of her wanted to warn the errants of the coming raid, but even if she was believed, she lacked precise information about where the Steelbones intended to strike. Even then, sending the northern warriors could lead them to harm Cabari.

No, she would simply turn her back and hope that her actions could justify the failing. She reminded herself that Melal could cause even greater suffering in the north, if no one held him in check. Though she hoped that Slaten remained at his side, she doubted that anyone could stand up to the Hero alone. Resist, perhaps, but to face him down would require some kind of monster.

Tani walked through the trading camp to the edge of the river, which was small compared to those she knew but large enough to hold several different boats. She stood for a time, trying to decide which to approach. Some were filled with goods under heavy guard. A group of armored errants sat on the deck of another, playing some manner of game. Finally her gaze came to rest on a ship of middling size that held more passengers than goods.

When she approached the board that led up to the deck, a man stepped in her way. He spoke first in Reili, then in Coran. "What do you want?"

"Does this ship take passengers?" Tani asked. "I need to journey north."

"Aye, we take passengers. But our decks are nearly full and the price will be high."

"I have money." Tani scooped a handful of coins into one hand, deciding that catching up to the others was more important than conserving her funds. Most likely Melal would make those irrelevant soon enough anyway, since money never seemed to matter to him.

"What is this, silver alloy? You don't have any wood?" As the man frowned down at the coins in her hand, Tani felt her first stab of real worry. He peered at most of her coins as if they meant nothing to him, selecting a few that were unfamiliar to her but apparently used in the north. The rest he treated as worthless.

"I can afford to take a lesser value for these. Surely the metal is worth something?"

"You haven't been here for long, have you?" The man shook his head and tossed the few coins he accepted back to her. "You can't afford a place on this ship and you've done nothing but waste my time."

"Wait." Tani swallowed her shame and quickly looked over the vessel. "The merchant ships have many guards, but it doesn't seem you do. Are you prepared for whatever dangers you'll face going down the river? There are so many guards, it mus-"

"What's your point?"

"I am a sein-trained warrior. Could I pay my way by offering my blade for the journey?"

Though the man scowled, he seemed to consider her offer, then folded his arms across his chest. "What rank are you?"

"Rank?"

Immediately he sneered. "What barbarian land did you wander from? If you have no honored rank, how am I to know that you have any sein training worth the name? A girl with a bit of strength or speed is worth nothing further downriver."

Again, Tani found herself frustratingly ignorant of the customs in these lands. She had asked the Steelbone raiders about some of the oddities she had noticed, but they knew only that the errants of all three northern nations had some sort of strict hierarchy of power. Apparently that hierarchy stretched out to entangle everyone.

Clearly, she could never negotiate past her ignorance. Instead, Tani took several steps back, gathered her sein, and leapt across the river.

When she landed on the other side, she heard a few shouts, some of surprise but more of annoyance. Tani turned around to face the man on the opposite side of the river, and from a distance it required focus to see that he still frowned. She considered jumping directly onto his boat to prove a point, but decided it would be wiser simply to leap back.

"So you have some training." He seemed to consider, then shook his head. "But leaping about will do you little good. Without knowing your standing in the Maenhu, it is impossible to know if your blade is worth a place on this ship. The answer is no."

Just as Tani began to protest, a suit of armor slammed to the ground beside them.

She looked in surprise at the figure encased in red cloth and steel. The tight helm gave no hint of who it might be, but she could trace his path. Behind him, she saw the boat bearing the errants rocking as if from his leap. If he had jumped so far in such heavy armor, that was impressive, but his companions only watched with mild interest. They must have noticed her leaps across the river.

"You're light on your feet." The man's voice echoed in his armor until he pulled the plate up, revealing a weathered face with a full blond beard. "Are you traveling north?"

"Ironlord, please pay her no mind." The owner of the ship changed completely, cringing before the armored warrior. "She did not mean to disturb you, and I was just about to send her on her way."

The errant ignored him, dark brown eyes focused on her. "Do you travel to Espal or Portant?"

Tani realized that he must hail from one of the two nations, but she lacked the ability to tell them apart. Though it might harm her, she felt a strange kinship with him based on his ability to leap and decided to answer honestly. "Neither. I travel north solely to follow my companions, and I do not know if they intend to go east or west."

"Hah. An honest answer, at least." Ignoring the ship owner, the errant turned aside and gestured over his shoulder. "Come with me and perhaps you can earn your passage with us."

Only slightly bending his legs, the man launched himself into the air. She thought, with the weight of his armor and the strength of his leap, that he would smash directly through the wooden vessel. Somehow he landed lightly, leaving her with a strange, twisted scent of mint.

It combined with the spices in her mouth, as if she had been offered an unfamiliar yet intriguing feast of conflicting flavors. Tani quickly leapt after him, landing on the warriors' vessel.

As soon as she did, she realized that not all of them appeared as friendly. Some ignored her, some stared skeptically, and a middle-aged woman outright glared. She could not have been more different from the pleasant merchant who had given Cabari a drink: this woman was a warrior, lean even with her armor, hair iron gray, eyes like blades.

Currently, the errant who had invited Tani was speaking to the older woman in a low voice. "She's some sort of barbarian girl attempting to make her way north with raw skill. What kind of errants would we be if we did not assist?"

"This is foolishness. How do you know she is not working with desert raiders?"

"If she was, surely she wouldn't draw our attention this way. What possible harm could come of it?"

Though he spoke in her favor, Tani still bristled at the way he referred to her. She tried to sort through her feelings and speak with the voice of reason. "Excuse me."

Both of them turned, the woman's eyes stabbing into her. They didn't speak, however, so she plunged forward.

"I am not a barbarian, I am of the Nelee Rhen. My name is Tani, and I have journeyed from the Chorhan Expanse south of the Sotunn Mountains. Though I do not think my strength could aid warriors such as yourselves, I would offer my blade if you could help me travel north."

As she had hoped, her speech made many of those watching draw up short. They had assumed she was a refugee from the raiding clans, but clearly the Chorhan Expanse was as alien to them as the northern nations were to her. Her declaration placed her in unknown territory.

"The nation of Espal grants passage to errants on such journeys." The woman wielded a finger like a sword, pinning her with a gesture. "Errants of sufficient strength, not warriors who do not understand their own sein. What is your rank in your home lands?"

"I..." Tani took a deep breath and clung to honesty again. "No such ranks exist among my people."

That got a chorus of mild surprise, some of the warriors curious and others dismissive. The leader was absolutely impossible to read, while the man who had invited her stepped closer with a curious expression. "Truly? You simply have no idea of anyone's strength?"

"Of course not! Novices remain in training, full warriors are granted combat rights, and masters take leadership positions within the tribe."

"Ah. A simple system, but I am sure it works well enough." The man's condescension seemed to be entirely without malice, as he smiled broadly at her the next moment. "My name is Hamoit, and this is our leader, Steeljudge Worise. I put forward, on my rank as a Peak Ironlord, that we allow her to travel north with us."

"Only if she is worthy of her place." Worise continued to impale her with that stare, then shifted to gesture to one of the others. "Bring the Wooden Judge. We shall see the girl's capabilities in the one power that is universal: sein."

Though Tani had no idea what a "Wooden Judge" was, she felt a flicker of hope. She might not be as strong as most of the errants around her, but she trusted in the sein that she had earned throughout her life. Whatever standard these Espalese warriors used, surely she could measure up to it.

Soon enough one of the others brought forth an iron chest. From within, the errant pulled what appeared to be a short wooden branch. The warrior had their helm closed and Tani realized that it was impossible to determine whether it was a man or a woman. Though such things mattered little in Nelee villages, the absence of any indication left the armored warriors strangely inhuman to her eye.

Then Worise extended the branch to her and Tani focused on it. Though it appeared to be a short length of gnarled wood, now she saw that five dark spheres had been embedded in it, the bark growing partially around them. They reminded her of the sein spheres the Coran resistance had used, but she had no idea what it meant. Fortunately, Worise seemed to expect her uncertainty.

"You may not have developed the Wooden Judge in your benighted lands, but the sein it measures is the same the world over. Let your sein flow through this branch as if it is part of you. It will show all of us, with absolute certainty, your true capacity and thus your rank."

Tani frowned at the assumptions, but couldn't object. Since they had treated the branch so reverently, she accepted it with both hands. She had expected it to feel like some mystical artifact, but her fingers brushed over mere wood. Since everyone was watching her, Tani did as she had been instructed and let her sein flow through the branch.

Slowly, three of the five spheres glowed a soft blue. It meant nothing to her, but prompted a few murmurs from the watching warriors.

"Not bad!" Hamoit took the branch from her and raised it up so everyone could see the fading lights. "It seems our new friend is a Greater Ironlord."

"I don't know what that means," Tani said. If they already thought her ignorant, at least they could give her answers.

"It is not a bad rank for a young warrior. You are stronger than a Lesser Ironlord."

"That part... I think I could have guessed."

"Not enough." Worise ground a mailed fist together. "Everyone in our company is at least a Peak Ironlord, and several are Steeljudges. Tell me, what is your awareness of sein?"

Though Tani could only guess at what she meant, she knew that her passage north hung in the balance. "I smelled my own sein first, then tasted it. Recently I have come to feel it as well, and I am trying t-"

"You will not master hearing or sight in a day, and few attain the next rank even in a year. This is insufficient to join us."

"That's all you judge?" Tani found herself completely taken aback by how stark their view of the world was. Yes, her mastery of herself could be judged by the senses she used to touch her own sein, but how could that be everything to her? What of all her physical training, her mental exercises, or her master's more abstract techniques?

"Your sein is your sein, and the Wooden Judge saw it fairly." Worise spoke as if stating that the sky was above the earth. "Do you bear some great weapon forged by a master smith?"

Though she wanted to argue against the very system, Tani recognized that it would be futile. These errants believed completely in their path and she would not sway them with such challenges. Her only hope was to prove herself in simple, undeniable terms.

"My weapons are only those I have gathered in my travels." Tani drew her sickle knife and presented it with both hands, though she had no hope that it would make a difference. "But I have trained in many arts. I would never claim to be a master, and I demand none of your ranks, but I am not defined by three lights on a dead branch."

A few laughed, not entirely in good humor. Worise didn't seem to have heard, instead examining her sickle knife. But before she could say anything, Hamoit stepped forward with a broad smile.

"If you would like a fair challenge, why not play the game of beasts?"

Tani blinked at him. "I do not know this game."

"Oh, it is simplicity itself, played by many children in the Maenhu. At the same moment, two players thrust forward their hands, in a position that represents one of the three traditional beasts." Hamoit raised a fist with his smallest finger raised. "This is the manticore... do you see how the finger is the tail? The manticore poisons the behemoth, but is eaten up by the dragon..."

The game did prove to be simple: each of the three beasts overpowered one of its rivals and fell against the other. What Tani completely failed to understand was how the game revealed anything at all. There could be no strategy, the result would simply be luck. Still, it was the challenge they had offered.

"When do we play?" she asked. To her surprise, Worise answered.

"You will test yourself against one of us. If you win, even once, I will permit you to travel with us. Hamoit... if I sense that you are holding back, I will devise a terrible punishment for you."

Hamoit simply smiled, then rose to his feet to face her with one hand in a fist before his stomach. Tani copied his posture, uncertain if there could be some complex strategy she missed. Surely the game of beasts was nothing but luck, unless it had a mental component she failed to understand. She resolved to simply cast her fist forward to represent the behemoth, regardless of what he said.

"Now... three, two, one..."

Both fists flew forward. Tani had shown the behemoth... and Hamoit showed the manticore, defeating her.

"Again," Tani said. She thought that a naive player would attempt dragon, to defeat the previous beast. So instead she planned to reveal manticore to anticipate her opponent. Perhaps he would attempt a step further, but that way lay endless cycles through the three beasts. When the count finished, Tani thrust forward her hand in the manticore position.

Hamoit revealed dragon. He didn't look surprised.

Frowning, Tani ignored the chuckles from the errants around her and simply focused. First, she wrapped her mind within itself as she drew her fist to her stomach. To her knowledge, it was impossible to reach into another's mind, but she armored herself all the same.

"Ready?" Hamoit watched her with complete confidence. "Three, two, one..."

She thrust her fist forward in manticore position... and then withdrew her smallest finger to instead form the behemoth.

This time she saw it: only a flicker of movement, but she understood. Her opponent held his hand in the superior beast both times, changing his position against hers. There had never been any luck at all. He simply perceived the movement of her hand and moved his even faster. No matter how many times she attempted the game of beasts, she would lose.

"Another try?" Hamoit asked, still smiling. Tani closed her eyes in resignation.

"I see your game now. You have proved you are faster than me... I do not think any further proof is necessary."

"So you did see!" Hamoit turned away from her to the others. "Is that not impressive? Only a Greater Ironlord, yet she understood the game of beasts in a mere three attempts. Beyond that, she saw the movements of a Peak Ironlord. That is worthy of a place, is it not?"

"No." Worise spoke harshly, but something had changed in her face. She handed Tani's sickle knife back to her with a respectful nod, despite her words. "I understand now. Your path has made your development strange and uneven."

Tani frowned, since other masters had always praised her path. But Worise had not finished speaking.

"I propose this. You will travel north with us and fight, if we command it. At the end of that journey, you will show us the fruits of your training. If you can attain Peak Ironlord or defeat any Ironlord in the game of beasts, then we will count you as having been worthy."

"And if not?"

"Then you will pay for your journey with all the weapons you bear." Worise leaned forward, eyes boring into Tani's. "And you will tell me exactly how you came to possess Wahleenese steel."

Though it was no great secret, Tani realized for the first time that her weapon must be a mystery to them. She had long thought of all three northern nations as mysterious lands of smiths, but surely they had as many differences among them as between Rhen tribes.

In any case, her path was clear. Tani bowed to the group of errants. "I accept your challenge."

Chapter 25

-

"Once, a great Zeitai who resided in Ith Silvaros had no choice but to go on a long journey. To hold his position in his absence, he required an heir, but the Zeitai had no apprentice. So one year before he left on his journey, the Zeitai asked every respectable family in the city to send their most promising young warrior, saying that he had a gift for them."

- Seinan version of The Zeitai's Egg

-

For the first time in her life, Celivia meditated on top of a mountain. It was a dirty little peak beneath many others, not some pristine height above the world, but she found herself enjoying it. With each deep breath she drew in clean air, and once she grew accustomed to the natural sounds of the mountains, she sat completely undisturbed by her surroundings.

Over a hundred days of that clarity had allowed her to finally break through an old barrier: perceiving sein with her sight. It was a significant achievement, yet she had no one to celebrate with.

Several of Celivia's acquaintances had gained the ability to perceive sein with their sight, and from their descriptions, she had assumed that the air would be filled with glowing lights. When she became aware of her own sein as a vision of fire, she expected to see it in others as a blazing flame around them.

It was nothing like that. Instead, every time she focused on someone, a strong impression of a fire burned itself into her mind. Not even the sight of a fire, exactly, but the feeling of one within their spirit. When she had used her new senses on a Catai, she had felt a steady bonfire. Out in the wilderness, her only other targets were human raiders, who almost all appeared as untamed wildfires.

In herself, the sensation was different. She saw lines of flame running through her body's channels, making her aware of the flow of sein within her in an entirely new way. It wasn't simply that she had access to a new well of sein, it was that she was so much more aware of it. Celivia found herself longing for a good fight, but the raiders made each encounter a risk.

The few times she had been able to catch a raider alone, she had run several experiments. Few of them seemed to have a strong understanding of sein, but their traditions made it flow through their bodies surprisingly powerfully. She estimated that the average raider had the strength of a warrior with awakened sein, and their best were as strong as her... or stronger. Though she had yet to meet one who struck her as a true master, their best remained beyond her.

Given enough time, she-

"Kaen?" The voice broke into her meditation and Celivia opened her eyes.

"What is it?" She could hear two sets of footsteps coming up from behind, but they were familiar. The first voice had been Ghasfik, and soon after Fijn spoke.

"We need to know if we're going to travel deeper into the mountains or head back to Sotfaal." When she turned to look at them, Fijn shifted his feet awkwardly. "Not to put too fine a point on it, Kaen, but Brifik is practically shitting himself to death. I don't think we can fight like this."

Celivia wiped her eyes with one hand. She had prepared for many circumstances, but she had failed to realize how much of a problem illness would be for her soldiers. Since the rebirth that had taken her out of the pits, Celivia was beyond the reach of most simple illnesses, but they took a constant toll on her band.

"We can't let this keep happening." Celivia sighed and stood up to face them. "Ghasfik, we need to enforce discipline. No more sloppy latrines, no more skirting policy. Do you think they can stick to that?"

"I'll try, Kaen." Ghasfik brought a fist to his chest smartly, but didn't meet her eyes. "They'll remember while they have a reminder of illness groaning beside them, but in ten days, twenty days..."

"Do the best you can, Nin. Fijn, when we next resupply, investigate what medicine is available at Sotfaal. Is there anything else?"

"Actually, there is one thing." Ghasfik coughed into a fist. "The men are weary of basic training exercises. They want to be warriors, not to - and I quote Krafan here - 'sit and hum to themselves'."

"None of them fully grasp sein yet. Jumping forward would just be fo-"

"Kaen, I'm not bringing their objection to you. I'm just informing you that they'll raise it when we go back to camp."

For a moment Celivia was incensed that he had interrupted her, but her anger quickly cooled. It was good that Ghasfik felt comfortable interrupting her, especially since he only brought a warning. She nodded in understanding and gestured for them to head back to camp first. As she followed, she watched them and considered the problem.

Seen through her new eyes, their newborn sein appeared as flickering candles, casting more shadows than illumination. Though a few of them took to the training more than the others, in practice the difference was negligible. Untrained soldiers did not become warriors overnight.

But Ghasfik wouldn't have brought the complaint to her if it hadn't been serious, so Celivia considered her options. She needed to mollify them while still giving some task that might help. Despite her progress, she thought her only hope of succeeding was elevating her band to a minimum level of competence with sein, so their teamwork could effectively counter the raiders instead of being overrun.

When they returned, she saw most of the band sulking around the fire. Brifik and Krafan were nowhere to be seen, but their groans from the latrine could be heard. She set them aside, instead focusing on Big Ragh, who stood up to confront her.

"Kaen, we're sick of this meditation bovalshit! We need more power to fight the Lowsteps!"

Huthur nodded in agreement and Splinters spat onto the ground supportively. Before Celivia could answer, Krafan stood as well with a conciliatory smile. "Celivia, we're not asking for much. You have so many wonderful training techniques, please just share some of them with us."

Celivia prevented herself from sighing and began the speech she'd prepared. "There are no shortcuts in sein, at least none you'd want to take. The first step must be to fully understand yourself. However..." She raised a hand to cut off Big Ragh's rising objections. "I understand that you've been training for a long time. Everyone stagnates without a change of pace. So, those of you who are healthy, follow me. You've come far enough that I should be able to teach you something new."

She turned away and assumed that they would follow her. After her time leading the band, she could be confident that they would do at least that. She led them a short distance away from their camp to a flat area beside a cliff face. There, she hopped to a rock and turned to face them.

"Though the sein and the body are linked, they can be trained separately. Today, I will be teaching you an advanced technique of the body, the Fist of Caor. You've come far enough to attempt it." In truth, it was more than they should be attempting, but she thought that their sein was weak enough that they couldn't actually injure themselves.

As she explained the technique, Celivia realized that she had completely overlooked a problem. There was no chance that they would understand without her demonstrating, but that meant that she would be covered in blood. It would heavily stain the sleeves of her current thick robe, and she would need to wear it for many days until they returned to base.

She was comfortable enough with the band that she hadn't considered the problem, not comfortable enough to simply take off her outer robe in front of them. In the end, what decided her was the thought of picking hair from her cuts, washing the sleeves, and then wearing the icy cold robes. When it came time to demonstrate, Celivia stepped beside the cliff and pulled off her outer robes.

Though she was still fully covered, her inner robes hung closer than her men had seen. Ghasfik kept his gaze riveted to her face, Huthur didn't care, and Fijn simply looked down. Big Ragh let out a whistle, but that didn't mean anything except that he was a randy bastard. What worried her was the glare in Splinters' eyes, a lust so close to hatred that it made no difference.

"Now watch carefully." Celivia tried to draw their attention away as quickly as possible, slapping the face of the cliff with her palm. As the shockwave of her own sein ran back down her arm, opening surface wounds, she shook her arm just slightly, sending blood scattering in several directions. That claimed their attention quite thoroughly. "This will hurt, but it will strengthen your body. Practice long enough, and one day your skin might be able to turn aside blades."

"Is that how the Catai do it, Kaen?" Fijn asked. "Or is this a technique they use to prepare?"

"Most use different preparations before their rebirth, but the Fist of Caor fills the same prerequisite. If you master this technique, you would have already met one of the requirements to become a Catai." All of them were absurdly far from mastering it, but if the statement motivated them, it could only help them survive.

Fortunately, her display had them all excited to line up alongside the cliff face and begin striking it. As she'd hoped, a rough and bloody technique suited them well. Celivia cleaned off her arms in a small stream near their camp and put on her outer robe as soon as she was dry.

By the time she returned, they were getting a bit closer, though none had accomplished it yet. Big Ragh had gotten his knuckles bloody, but that was only from punching the rock too hard. Eventually Fijn performed the technique, an uneven line of blood appearing up his arm. The others roared in approval and redoubled their efforts to compete with him.

Celivia watched and occasionally gave suggestions, since they struggled with many aspects of the art. Still, she had never seen them this motivated while meditating. They might not receive great benefits from the Fist of Caor yet, but if they did come to understand their sein later, they would be another half-step down the path.

Eventually two of them left the cliff to approach her, roughly at the same time but glancing at one another awkwardly. She gestured for Huthur to speak first.

"Kaen, I'm not sure that this technique is... for me." His arms were covered in shallow wounds, which was better than most of the band, but she saw a deeper pain in his eyes. "It feels wrong, like my body is resisting it."

"Not everyone walks the same path." Celivia gave him a smile without inventorying her own expression. "Truthfully, you would be better off focusing on your sein. If this exercise isn't for you, simply focus on your perceptions."

Huthur nodded and moved away, relief evident on his face. She turned toward Krafan, still smiling, and he eagerly smiled back.

"I am only taking a break." Krafan came to stand beside her, shaking his head. "I am amazed, utterly amazed, that you can perform such a technique so well. It seems... unfair, that one woman can be both so strong and so beautiful."

Her eyes immediately narrowed and only discipline kept her pupils from contracting against a threat. Celivia kept her expression neutral and watched him, noting that his expression was closer to adoration than anything else. Still cloying.

"That's kind, Nin, but what I want is for all of you to survive against these raiders. Focus on your training."

"Of course, Celivia, of course." Krafan smiled apologetically and backed away, returning to the cliff with the others. Once he turned his back, she frowned. She didn't want to foster that attitude in her band, but she wasn't sure how to disillusion Krafan without being cruel.

It was not a problem she wanted to think about, compared to her own training or fighting the Lowsteps. Celivia resolutely set it out of her mind.

For the rest of that day, she actually felt optimistic. But the next morning, fewer of them joined the training session and more left early. In two more days, only Fijn and Big Ragh were still striking the rock. Huthur at least came nearby and meditated, but the others had mostly returned to their normal routine. The surge of interest in training had only lasted a few days.

As she looked over her band, Celivia was struck with memories of Slaten like a sword to the chest. It was a technique meant for mansthein, yet he had grasped it so easily. Beyond that, he had embraced the core of the technique fully and thrown himself into it with an intensity she saw matched only in herself. Many would have sneered that he was only a human, yet he put them to shame.

The comparison sent her spiraling into a depression that felt brutally realistic. If she had a year, maybe her band would develop. But she didn't have a year, and even then they would not become master warriors. Trying to destroy the Lowstep clan like this was completely futile.

For a time she wallowed, receding into her own training. What broke her out of the cycle was a small skirmish several days later. They stumbled across a mere two raiders, both weaker than average. It should have been an effortless fight, yet her band threw itself into combat recklessly, harming themselves with half-developed sein arts. She needed to kill the raiders herself to avoid any deaths on her side.

That night, Celivia sat in a tree overhead, turning her voidlink over in her fingers. Asking the Zeitai for help would prove her a failure, so her only hope was to draw on other resources. Yet it had been so little time since she had begged Unila for a favor, and the only way to return to Castle Wahles would be to use the single voidlink she possessed. Even if that path led to victory, it would still feel like a humiliating failure to return so soon.

Yet she didn't have a choice. Gradually she convinced herself that it was only pride standing in her way. The simple truth was that she had to succeed in this assignment and she couldn't do so alone. She needed to use every tool she possessed.

Celivia tucked the voidlink away and dropped from her perch, catching a branch on the way down so as not to land too heavily. Instead she caught Ghasfik's gaze and jerked her head to indicate that he should follow. When they stepped a short distance from camp, she turned to him.

"If the band enters combat like this, they'll kill themselves. They need to finish basic training first."

"I understand, Kaen, but..."

"We're returning to Sotfaal. Once there, I intend to pay some of the fort's sein trainers to force them to focus. But I'll need your help too, Ghasfik. Whether it's meditation or the Fist of Caor, you need to force their teeth to the grindstone. Do you understand?"

"I'll do the best I can, Kaen." He saluted respectfully, and she knew that he would. Unfortunately, one's best was often not enough.

Though she remained alongside them as they returned, ready for any raider ambushes, Celivia drifted along at the edges of the band without interacting. When they finally came within a day's travel of Sotfaal, she felt only relief and made the training arrangements quickly. She explained to Ghasfik that she was going to find reinforcements while they trained, then snapped her voidlink.

On the other end of the twisting path, she found herself standing in the familiar chamber. When she emerged, she saw a portly Voidwalker behind a desk give her an odd look. He would do as well as any of them.

"Excuse me, but I need to speak to Voidwalker Unila."

"She's out, so you'll have to wait. Possibly forever, unless you have permission for this."

"My name is Celivia. I should be in your records."

The Voidwalker leaned to examine a board beneath his desk, peering at a strip of paper with spidery text. "Hmm, yes. Band leader Celivia? It seems she did say that you could contact her, so we will make the connection when possible."

"Thank you, Naen. I-"

"There is actually a message waiting for you, Naena. A Lieutenant Jeraeli said that if you came here, you were to be invited to dinner. Unless you have other arrangements...?"

Celivia found herself smiling. That solved the problem of where she would stay while waiting, but more importantly it made her feel welcomed in a way she hadn't in days. She left a simple message for Unila, outlining where she hoped to go, then followed the directions she was given.

Those led her outside the town itself, to a vast staging ground. Since it was mostly empty, her gaze was immediately drawn to the neat set of tents on one side. That must be Jeraeli's company, eighty men or perhaps a full 81 if she wasn't counted among them. When she approached the men looked up in surprise, but one of them hurried to a tent that was far larger and more elaborate than the others.

When Jeraeli emerged from her tent, all the nearby soldiers dropped into a kneeling salute. She was draped in clothing that resembled combat robes in the way a palace resembled a dilapidated shack. Though not as ornate as the clothing she usually wore, and showing little skin, they had been so closely tailored to her that it didn't matter. Her armored belt was made from silver and adorned her waist more than it protected her body. As she swept forward, clearly superior to everyone in the camp, Celivia understood why her soldiers acted so deferential.

"Celivia!" Jeraeli greeted her warmly, immediately clasping her arm and leading her away from the camp. "I'm so glad that you caught me. As long as our preparations take, we might have been gone if you'd come just a few days later."

"Where are you assigned?" Celivia glanced back at the camp as they walked away from it, but could not determine anything except that they were ready to march.

"That's the strangest thing: I've been reassigned. We never even made it to my previous assignment!" Jeraeli shook her head with a strange smile. "The key to advancement here is politics. You've heard it before, but you don't understand how true it is. I've accomplished only a little, but by making friends with the right people, I've received an... unofficial promotion, shall we say."

"Unofficial?"

"Though I'm still a lieutenant, my company is no longer stationed within the cohort of that dull captain. Instead we operate independently... much like your band, yes? The two of us are on the same path again!"

Looking back at the well-organized company, the soldiers worshiping the ground Jeraeli trod, Celivia felt as though they could not be further apart. But Jeraeli rising in the ranks could only be beneficial to Wahleen, so she managed an honest smile as she listened to the other woman.

"More importantly, I've received proper support. Each company is supposed to have a healer, but we didn't have one until now. And even though many don't have a Catai, one was reassigned to us!" Jeraeli let out an exaggerated sigh. "He's a dumb brute, but it always intimidates the humans to see someone smash their armor with his fists."

"I'm glad for you, but I still don't know where you're being reassigned."

"That is actually something of a secret, but I feel confident in telling you." Jeraeli squeezed her arm to pull her closer, whispering theatrically despite their distance from anyone else. "There have been rumors of a hero along the Oestiid River. We're being sent to the border of Wahleen to investigate the situation."

Celivia frowned, struggling to remember the maps she had seen. "Wouldn't that put all of Portant in between you and the rumors?"

"Yes, but it's a narrow country, and with all the confusion on the border... we might just be able to slip past. Perhaps the assignment will prove a complete waste of time, but the Zeitai seems very interested in this human hero. If we do discover something, I would be a strong candidate for a true promotion... and more importantly, step much closer to the Zeitai himself."

"Be careful, Jeraeli. If the Hero is really there... he can make things difficult."

"Oh, that's right." Jeraeli finally let go of her arm, instead turning to face her and clasping her hands. "You have so much experience with this... why don't you leave your assignment and join us?"

"Leave my assignment?" Celivia drew back slightly, though the other woman had her hands clasped too tightly to pull free. "Is that possible?"

"It's all too frequent, when the Zeitai gives unfair assignments. Yes, it would not be the best for you, but imagine if you could play a key role in this hero affair! That would completely erase any shame, and both of us could advance together!"

"Perhaps that could work."

Though Celivia smiled, she knew that the option was no longer available to her. She had already snapped her voidlink, effectively betting everything on finding a way to accomplish her assignment quickly. Even if she did assist Jeraeli, all her wasted time would reflect too poorly on her. The only way forward was victory over the Coldsteps.

For now, that meant taking Jeraeli's arm and waiting for the Voidwalkers.

Chapter 26

-

"To prevent over-hunting, the killing of animals for their pelts will now be severely restricted, on the order of the Zeitai. Fur manufacturers will now be required to demonstrate that their furs originate with licensed hunters. Fringes and collars will not be managed beyond this, but garments using whole foxes, wolves, and predatory feline pelts will now be subject to a tax at the point of purchase."

- proclamation from Castle Wahles

-

Though Natala pretended to be awed by the world around her, it required minimal pretending, as her intellectual awareness of features such as deserts and rivers had surprisingly little to do with her personal experience of them. She had seen mountain streams, some of them quite large, but the fact that she'd accurately predicted how much wider and more powerful a river would be did little to prepare her for the experience of sailing along it.

How was she supposed to behave, encountering so many new things? She began with the reactions of the Bloodskin warriors to determine what should be most notable to her, then modulated her responses accordingly. Where they reacted with fear or suspicion, she adopted an expression of wonder.

All that required was shifting her response from true fascination, which she knew would attract a negative reaction, to simulated awe. She adapted many of her reactions from Laeri, who regularly expressed wonder over mundane objects they encountered. When they had encountered a merchant who sold a particular food loaf that Laeri enjoyed, she had nearly been in tears. Natala chose not to use that reaction.

For most of their journey, she stood near the edge of their ship, out of the way of the workers, and observed the world. What had once been her world was now only a thin line of mountains behind her. That realization should not have impacted her, yet she found it returning to her thoughts frequently.

Simply reaching the edge of the mountains had expanded her experiences considerably, and now she gazed out over endless expanses. In some places only a thin green line of plants huddled near the water, while in others they extended much further before giving way to the rocky sands of the Sotunn Desert. She had asked about the limits of the growth, but no one had been able to explain the exact rules the plants followed.

Beyond that, she found the desert itself more fascinating. Rocks gave way to rolling dunes that formed patterns that Slaten had suggested were caused by wind. According to the others, a few nomads made their way through the desert, and particularly brave raiders even attempted to attack merchant ships traveling up the river with fresh supplies. The idea of trying to coordinate such a journey fascinated her.

"Isn't this horribly dull?" Laeri flopped down against the side of the ship and stared out blankly. "There's just sand, and sand, and sand..."

"Yes, it's so tedious." Natala shifted beside her, carefully ensuring their arms just touched. "When I left the Bloodskin village, I had expected to see more... wonder, I suppose."

"Oh, but you will!" Laeri abruptly turned to her, clasping her arm. "There are so many wonderful things to see, just in the parts of the world I've already experienced! I'm sure that once we leave the desert, you'll see many wonders!"

"Thank you, Laeri." Natala pulled the other woman close, but when one of the men ambled past, she pulled back. Laeri noted her hesitance around them, which helped cover over any slight discrepancies between roles. Though astonishingly naive, Laeri was not a stupid woman.

"Just... just keep moving forward." Laeri patted her hand encouragingly, but her eyes made it obvious that she needed the encouragement herself.

When they had left most Bloodskin women behind in the village, Laeri had held out hope that Melal would look toward her again. It had required no great insight for Natala to discover this: the other woman had explicitly told her, uninvited, multiple times. The fact that he instead seemed to drift into apathy left her crushed again, which Natala didn't understand well enough to assist in any way.

As she stepped away from the rail, Natala realized that Patule had approached without her knowledge and noted his scowl, several degrees beyond its customary position. "Look how happy you are, leaving your people behind."

"Isn't that what you're doing too?" She slowed the speed of her response and kept her expression neutral, only walking near the edge of any emotion. Patule was unlikely to harm her, but he was no fool and needed to be treated carefully.

"Chief Bufogu permitted this expedition!"

"But he wasn't happy about it, was he?" Natala presented him with a slightly mischievous smile, not mocking him, just enough to make him think her a silly girl. "I think he's going to care more about how many of his warriors follow the Hero than about if I have a bit of fun."

Patule grunted. "Maybe we're better off without you." He pushed past her, heading down the ship, leaving her free with her previous smile fixed on her face.

Of course, the ship was too small for anyone to have much space, so Natala needed to weave her way around other men to reach the door to the hold. She noted that Melal lay just beside the entrance, his arms behind his head as he stared skyward. Pretending not to see, she attempted to walk past him, but she underestimated the required speed.

"Not bad." When she was several steps into the hold, Melal reached out and grabbed her thigh. She feigned a surprised gasp and flinched, enough to escape his grasp. He didn't seem to care, watching her hungrily. "Without all those cloths all over you, I can understand what Slaten sees in you. You should wear even fewer."

"Oh, don't say that, you flatterer! It's too hot for so many clothes." Natala shook her head in a show of regret fueled by some of the real thing. The lowlands were more comfortable, but only in certain ways.

"Is that where you're going now? Slaten is moping down there, isn't he?"

Natala raised a finger to her lips, but smiled as if she couldn't help it. "Ssh, don't tell!"

Melal only laughed and leaned back again. Natala kept the smile on her face until she stepped below, the shadows indicating that no one could see her face. Then she dropped all expression.

When she'd first seen the ship, she had predicted the hold would be be much larger, but as she had learned from one of the sailors, even the largest ships capable of sailing a river struggled with space. This hold didn't have enough height to stand, and much of the floor was filled with the vessel's supplies. Amid the filth and stink, Slaten sat against several crates, eyes closed, breathing evenly.

He opened his eyes, saw her expression, and didn't flinch. Simply watched. Natala crouched forward until she could sit down beside him.

"Melal saw me enter, so we may have some privacy."

"Or the opposite." Slaten glanced upward. "We need to be quiet in case anyone tries to watch."

"You can be alleviating my fears." Natala slid a bit closer to lean her head against his shoulder; it would have sold the deception better to sit in his lap, but she recognized the same hunger in him that she saw in other men. She noted his frustration and did what she could not to exacerbate it. "How goes your training?"

"Not well." He lifted one hand and tightened it into a fist, observing it with a scrutiny she found almost familiar. "As much as I have learned about the Bloodskin arts, something eludes me. I even risked speaking to some of the other warriors, but I don't think they fully understand their own technique. Not consciously."

Natala thought that his self-evaluation was too modest, or at least evaluating by the wrong standard. He had comprehended the arts nearly as quickly as she had, and his practice of them had surpassed hers. By her judgment, his body was currently the equal of most of the village's men, his muscles were simply leaner, devoted toward his own practices of swordplay.

The speed at which his strength had surpassed hers gave her slight pause. After she had learned to apply her mind to sein, she had expected it to fall into place with the ease of everything else. Instead she discovered that it was not as similar as applying general strategic observations from Neyet to Yenith. Instead, the sein or bodily arts were a wholly separate discipline against which her mind could find only limited purchase.

Her thoughts passed in a fraction of a heartbeat, yet Slaten noticed the pause, his gaze turning toward her. Best to change the subject. "I know that a woman's mind is liable to collapse if it faces any complexity, but what did you men decide at the meeting last night?" For once, it had not been possible to eavesdrop, as the close quarters created a crowd of listeners.

"Melal thinks that we need to leave the river long before it travels west into Espal. The sailors argued over several different destinations, but Melal liked the sound of a town called Torgaadi. Apparently it lies some distance east of the river, in Portant."

"And he simply liked the name? The way he didn't like Thenno?"

"I'm not convinced that it's random." Slaten leaned back and closed his eyes. "You recall that ship we passed yesterday?"

"That's an unnecessary question."

"I suppose it is, sorry. But when the sailors traded news, they heard some rumors that the Deathspawn were searching the western side of the continent. It seems they're focusing on the largest cities, asking for news of the Hero. So it's possible that they already had someone waiting in Thenno who might have noticed us."

"And there won't be anyone in this Torgaadi?"

Slaten shrugged the way he often did when it came to Melal. "One can hope."

Though given ample observation time aboard the ship, Natala had yet to reach a definitive conclusion on Melal. At many times, he seemed like an unremarkable man, less cunning than Chief Bufogu, lacking in many notable qualities, and only somewhat prone to violence.

In other moments, he stared over the horizon with his eyes bright and his voice changed. Though Natala applied herself to every individual detail of his appearance, expression, stance, and tone, she failed to identify anything precisely that had changed. But in those moments, he seemed beyond her in a way that she could not articulate.

According to Slaten, many were drawn to him at those times. Natala consistently recoiled.

The relationship between Slaten and the Hero still eluded her grasp. She noted hints of fear in Slaten, but his fear was old and weary. When other men saw Melal, they seemed to feel inspiration, or anger if he worked against them. At those times, Slaten stood blank, emptier than she had ever been. He was not like the Bloodskin men, pulled along with no choice, yet he seemed driven to follow by something within him.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked. Natala displayed a lazy shrug.

"I'm trying to imagine how the Bloodskin men will cope when we reach Portant. Do you think Melal can keep them under control?"

"I'm not sure." As Slaten answered, however, she could see that he didn't fully believe her. It hadn't been technically a lie, since part of her mind was considering it, but... no, it had been deception.

Even after so long, one piece of Slaten still regarded her with absolute skepticism. If she was more prone to self-deception, Natala could have believed that it had fallen away, in the times when he relaxed around her. Though he allowed himself to enjoy her company, that enjoyment was always held at a distance and scrutinized for ulterior motives.

That scrutiny would never end, because he analyzed nothing but her honest self. And yet she found herself speaking whatever easy lies came to mind, digging both of them deeper. When Natala sighed and leaned against him, nothing in her was feigned, yet it might as well have been everything.

~ ~ ~

Slaten had hoped that they would be interrupted before they reached their destination. He had argued as long as he dared that they should have waited for Tani and Veron before they ventured to the northern nations. Unfortunately, Melal's confidence was unshakable and he had the loyalty of all the Bloodskins with them.

As Slaten stared at the port ahead, he wondered if it would matter. Even if the others would somehow be drawn to them, they would still need to travel alone and finding one another could be difficult. The Legend might end well, but he had seen too many die to believe that was any comfort whatsoever.

His mind wandered yet again to the Sage of Mount Tmil and their strange quest into the north. In a rare show of good judgment, Melal had insisted that they not ask any sailors about the seal, since they would spread the information too far. That meant that they were about to enter Portant with absolutely no idea where they were going. Melal had a vision of a pit in the earth where the seal lay, but that was all they knew.

"Torgaadi lies to the east!" Melal stood at the front of the ship, in the sailors' way, pointing away from the dock. "At long last, our journey to the north is complete! From here, we find glory!"

Since he had avoided mentioning their real purpose, Slaten decided that was sufficient. He ignored Melal and continued staring outward, though his ruminations were soon interrupted by Natala walking up beside him.

"The sailors say it takes two days to reach the town," she said, "but if we run, we may be able to arrive in one."

"You've been inquiring?"

"There's been nothing else to do, with everyone preparing. Did you know that the ending of the name 'Torgaadi' means that it's only a town? If it was a great city, the name would be Torgaad. Apparently that rule applies to nearly every word in Reili, so a small sword would be a swordi."

Over the past several days, Slaten had done little but train and churn his thoughts. He felt a pang of disappointment in himself that he had never reached out or displayed any curiosity. Whatever her other qualities, Natala listened where he didn't. Pushing all of that aside, he found a milder answer. "Does that mean that the Reili language is a small Reil?"

"I asked that too." Natala gave him a quick smile that he wanted to believe was genuine. "One could not call the sailors scholars, but they insisted that it wasn't. I think that '-li' has another meaning."

"I see." Slaten subsided into silence, wondering if he had it in him to learn Reili.

Once he had thrown himself into becoming fluent in Coran, and he had a broken understanding of Futhik. But speaking the mansthein language had done him little good, and he had no idea if they would even be in the north for long before Melal dragged them away again. Trying to build something meaningful in any location felt pointless.

Though Natala left him alone with his thoughts for a time, as they came up beside the dock and the sailors began their work, she spoke again. "Did you wonder why Torgaadi is inland instead of here by the river?"

"This place does seem rather small." Though some buildings clustered around the docks, they could barely be called a village. It was a space for ships to dock, nothing more.

"They told me that hundreds of years ago, the border of Portant lay further to the west, past the river. Espalese warriors who wanted revenge against Portant would sail up the river and strike at the most convenient targets. So while many new towns lie along the river, the older locations remain some distance away."

Slaten murmured something about it being interesting, and it truly was, but he found it difficult to focus. After so long in the Sotunn Mountains, the Hero would again come into contact with a delicate political balance. He feared that over the past days he had been as idle as Melal when it came to what truly mattered.

He remained mired in his own thoughts while they separated from the sailors, made their payments, and left the cluster of buildings. Once they stood outside, however, he forced himself to focus. The desert had been giving way to brush and then trees for days, yet somehow he was still surprised to find the land was green around them. It was far less flat than the Chorhan Expanse, and the grass was shorter, yet he found some familiarity in the gently rolling hills.

"Everyone pay attention!"

Melal shouted mostly to the Bloodskin warriors, who had begun to scatter over the unfamiliar ground, but Slaten needed to shift his focus as well. There was nothing convenient for Melal to stand on, yet he still managed to draw all eyes as if he towered over them.

"Remember that we cause no trouble for now, not until we learn how many Deathspawn lurk in these parts. We reach Torgaadi, we enter quietly, then we begin to ask questions. We don't show our strength until we know the location of the seal with absolute certainty, or the Deathspawn may steal it away. Understood?"

The Bloodskin warriors yelled a wordless affirmation, then they began to march east. Laeri clutched her staff, worrying that she wouldn't be able to keep up, only for Melal to scoop her up in his arms and carry her in front of him. Slaten glanced over at Natala.

"It would be... difficult to carry you that way."

She sighed. "I'm the only one left who can't run, so we don't have a choice."

"Please excuse my hand." He shifted over to her, ready to carry her on his shoulder. Natala merely snorted as she cooperated.

"Given what everyone else thinks, you might as well take the opportunity. They'd think better of you for it."

Despite her words, as Slaten hefted her onto his shoulder, he was careful only to touch her leg. Even so, keeping her steady while he ran required gripping her thigh in a way that made the running much more uncomfortable. At least Natala knew better than to tease him, or at the very least estimated that teasing him would be disadvantageous.

As they ran, however, he was surprised at how easy it was. Before, he would have needed to steadily flow sein through his shoulders to prevent her weight from injuring his back. Now, however, his body barely seemed to notice that he carried a grown woman over one shoulder. It was not the confirmation of his training that he had wanted, but he would accept it.

The distance melted away as he fell into the rhythm of the run, though he found himself wishing that Tani was there to run alongside him. Natala at least spoke to him for a time, before the jolting pace wore her down. That left him running alongside savage raiders, following the Hero.

When they stopped to rest, Slaten was surprised to find that he felt as though he could have kept running. What would once have been a sprint had tired him out no more than a relaxed walk. Natala obviously needed the break, however, clutching her stomach where it had struck against his shoulder. He helped her to a sitting position and knelt down beside her.

"Are you alright?"

"If I didn't practice my own defensive arts, my stomach would be one solid bruise." She winced as she rubbed it. "If it will stop me from bouncing, please, grab my ass as hard as you can."

That awkward line of conversation was interrupted when Melal strode up to them. He barely looked at Natala, just gestured for Slaten to step away. Once they stood apart from the group, Melal spoke in a low voice.

"I have been thinking about what the Sage told us. In the final battle, I will lead an army of all the world against the Deathspawn. But before then, I require companions, not soldiers." Melal swept his gaze over the Bloodskin warriors with noble contempt. "These men... much as I have enjoyed their company, they are not destined companions. Whether they live or die, the Legend cares not."

Slaten said nothing.

"When we reach Torgaadi, I doubt the Bloodskins will be able to find those we need. But there must surely be allies for us there. Those who would be sympathetic to our cause and hate the Deathspawn as much as we do. I will focus on the seal, and you should listen for word of it as well, but I will trust you and Laeri to find those allies."

"I... will do what I can."

"Good man." Melal clapped him on the shoulder, then moved away. He didn't allow the group to rest for long before urging them to begin running again, leading Slaten to wonder if he had stopped for that reason alone.

Though the remainder of their run went smoothly enough, soon the roads became too dense for them to avoid. To avoid looking like the raiders they were, the group finally slowed down, allowing Natala and Laeri to walk. They moved past several groups of travelers, most moving without any fear of attack. The reason why became obvious not long after, when an armored group of errants marched down the road.

The only interruption was when they had to move to avoid a wagon pulled by a truly enormous beast. Most of the Bloodskins stared at it in astonishment, and Slaten stared as well. He knew that the stocky creature must be a behemoth, but he hadn't expected such a powerful creature.

In his mind, he had imagined a type of aurochs, but the behemoth's four legs were pillars of twisted muscle. It had a powerful tail as well, but it was bound to the front of the cart and the driver, an unassuming farmer, struck it with a switch to guide the beast.

Slaten intended to move on, but saw that Natala lingered, staring at a creature she had previously seen only in illustrations. Eventually the farmer turned his attention back to her, less curiosity than venom, so she followed Slaten. They caught up to the others without him carrying her and he realized that they had come within sight of Torgaadi.

Though clearly a smaller town than Bundlin, it was surrounded by an impressively fortified wall. It did not stretch high, but the upper battlements were covered in spikes that threatened in all directions. Even a warrior who could leap that high would struggle to land on the top of the wall and not be knocked into the spikes. He would have marveled at the huge quantity of metal, but he noticed that many travelers carried metal staffs and the town itself had a large iron gate. Metal appeared to be common in the northern nations... or the Maenhu, as he wasn't entirely sure about the name.

The gates stood open, but errants guarded either side of the entrance. They allowed most travelers to pass without any concern, until Melal's group approached. Then those suits of armor began to move, blocking their path and settling hands on weapons.

"What is your business in Torgaadi?" One of the errants stepped forward, and Slaten noted a bright metal band attached to his shoulder plate. He saw that every other guard had a band, but with different lengths and patterns. Presumably an insignia of rank.

"We," Melal said grandly, "are fleeing violence with the Deathspawn in the mountains. Will your community accept us?"

Several of the errants in back shifted uncomfortably, but the leader remained as still as if he truly was a suit of armor. "Normally, all travelers are free to pass through Torgaadi. You, however, appear to be traveling with a large number of warriors who have hidden their rank."

"Rank? I don't know what that is."

"Then step this way. We need to evaluate if you are a threat before you can be permitted into the town." The leader turned away, expecting to be followed. Though Melal looked incensed at first, he ground his teeth and gestured for the others to follow him. They moved away from the entrance, around the side of the first fortification.

There, the leader gestured to one of the other errants, who revealed a strange branch with several glass spheres embedded in it. "I suppose you've never seen a Wooden Judge before," the guard said. "It will judge your sein. Each of you must be evaluated."

Melal gestured for one of the Bloodskins to go first, as if he expected it to be a trap. The man grabbed the bottom of the branch... and nothing happened. After a pause, the leader of the guards sighed.

"You need to let your sein flow through the branch."

The Bloodskin growled back at him, then turned his growl on the branch. Several errants laughed, and a few of the Bloodskin men began to reach for weapons. Slaten thought that he should do something to forestall a fight, yet remained silent. To his surprise, Patule was the one to step forward, examining the branch and then speaking to the Bloodskin roughly.

"This little stick wants to know how hot your blood is. Grip it loosely, but let your blood flow down your arm."

Though his instruction was simple, it seemed to work: one of the spheres on the branch shone brightly. The lead errant nodded. "An Ironsquire, then. Take this and hand the Wooden Judge to the next of you."

As the branch was passed from person to person, those who finished were given small bands of metal that looked like cheap versions of those the errants wore. Slaten quickly gathered that Portant must be an extremely hierarchical culture, though they seemed to place everyone on a regimented scale instead of casting them into specific roles like the Oken.

Without touching the Wooden Judge, he couldn't be sure, but he suspected that it evaluated the quality of one's sein. Most of the weaker Bloodskins made one sphere light up and received the "Ironsquire" band. A few only made the sphere flicker weakly and received a lesser version of the same pin. Several achieved two and were instead declared Ironlords of one type or another. Ranks within ranks.

Except that Slaten was not sure that the Bloodskin warriors were being fairly judged. Yes, it was possible that Portant had developed sein technology that measured a warrior perfectly, but it was also likely that the raw physical strength of the Bloodskins could not be accurately measured. Many of the errants appeared to be Ironlords, judging by their metal bands, and Slaten did not think they were superior to the stronger raiders.

"Slaten, you next." Melal shoved him forward, so Slaten had no choice but to grasp the Wooden Judge. Remembering the principle of the sein spheres, he let his sein flow into it.

Three of the spheres lit up and he was declared a Greater Ironlord, which was higher than most of the Bloodskins. Slaten stared at the metal band they handed him and felt no particular pride. It was crudely made of a metal so weak he could easily bend it in his hands.

Only a few of the Bloodskins were given the rank of Lesser Ironlord, and only Patule surpassed Slaten as a "Peak Ironlord". Melal clearly intended to go last, which Slaten suspected was wise. When Laeri shuffled forward, some of the Bloodskins laughed, but none of the errants seemed to find it even slightly remarkable, so they handed her the Wooden Judge.

Four spheres kindled to light and a surprised Laeri was declared a Peak Ironlord. The Bloodskins were at first astonished, then the derision began. Whatever value they had placed on the test disappeared.

When Melal finally stepped forward, only the errants were still watching. The moment his fingers curled around the branch, the spheres began to glow... and then the wood itself. Both grew brighter and brighter until without warning, the branch snapped in half and fell to the ground. All the errants fixated on him and the leader pulled open his helm, revealing the astonished face of an older man.

"I have never seen a Wooden Judge respond so... just who are you?"

"I'm a simple traveler who wants to visit your town." Melal swelled with pride, though he managed to avoid declaring himself the Hero. "Will you permit us entry?"

After some discussion, the guards agreed to allow them in. They gave Melal a band of a strange white metal, clearly better crafted than all the others. Slaten pinned his band to the top of his mantle, while most of the Bloodskins shoved theirs into pouches or threw them on the ground. Laeri simply held hers as if it was inexplicable.

With the judgment complete, they were allowed to enter Torgaadi. Melal led most of the Bloodskins down the main street, but he looked over his shoulder at Slaten. The message was clear enough. Slaten advanced in a different direction to explore the town, though he noted Natala at his heels.

"You didn't try the Wooden Judge," he said. She only shook her head.

"I did not see how it could benefit me in any way. Do you think it judged the Bloodskins fairly?"

"I am... not sure. I would say that it judges the sein and not the body, but since sein is as important to the body as blood, how can that be? In my travels, I have met people who believed many different things about sein. This is another belief, but not one I understand."

After that answer, Natala seemed content to follow him and observe their surroundings. Though Slaten spent some time looking over the town as well, it seemed not so different from Bundlin to him. The buildings were made of stone and wood instead of mud bricks, and more of them rose to a second level, but the dirty streets were mostly the same. He saw fewer stalls but more carts. Trivial differences.

The people who walked the streets spoke Reili instead of Coran, and their appearances differed, but they struck him as fundamentally the same as people anywhere else. At first he had expected everyone to have a rank, but soon realized that only warriors wore a band. If so, the hierarchy was restricted to errants, which would be very different from the Oken.

"What exactly do you intend to do?" Natala asked.

"I'm not sure. Around the Hero, events seem to... fall into place. If Melal is convinced that we need to be here, then I might stumble across something important." Slaten glanced back at her. "He ignores you, but your observations might be useful. We could split up and meet back here at sunset."

"No." She stepped closer to him, eyes narrowing. "These errants might dress in armor, and the books might speak of their nobility, but they are still human. I would not trust myself alone to them."

"Ah." Slaten stared at her, realizing that he had been inconsiderate but unsure what to say. "You can come with me, but I'm not sure what I'm doing."

"I'm not sure anyone else does."

Slaten began to wander, gaining his bearings in the new location. His clothes attracted a little attention, but less than his hair. He realized that none of the men wore their hair long and almost all wore beards, even those who would be better off shaving. The women had their hair bound up in braids or hidden beneath cloths. Many stared at Natala's unbound hair, perhaps because they saw few dark locks.

What he felt, more than anything, was a sense of distance. The people of Torgaadi carried on with their own lives, untouched by the Legend. That might not be true, but until he bridged the distance, he could believe it. Stepping into their lives to demand information about his own seemed inexcusably rude at that moment, so he drifted without speaking to anyone.

Though only a town, Torgaadi had a considerable amount of metal on display. Instead of one area where the smiths congregated, he saw smithies on many streets. Most seemed devoted solely to the daily needs of the townspeople, but eventually he stumbled onto a street where they walked among more errants. Most appeared to be Ironsquires, wearing only the dark pads he saw underneath the armor of others.

This street contained several stores devoted to weapons and equipment. Slaten admired some of the steel he saw, but continued to walk onward. He had exchanged his southern money at one of the ports, but it had been a poor deal and he knew he had relatively little.

When he stepped inside the small store at the end of the lane, he nearly stepped out again. It had no storefront, only a bench covered in nails, animal shoes, and hinges. Beyond it, a muscular old man stripped to the waist worked at his forge. The building was unremarkable compared to the others... yet something along the wall caught Slaten's eye.

He realized that it was a display of weapons, yet no common display. When he walked closer to it, the smith waved cheerfully at him. "Feel free to take a look!" Slaten nodded and proceeded to do just that.

What first drew his eye were the swords, similar to both straight and curved Coran styles, yet the hilts were more finely worked and they had larger cross-guards. There were no Oken blades, but most of the display was devoted to two-handed weapons. He saw pikes with heads in a dozen styles, some simple and some so ornate he wasn't sure how they could be effective in battle.

All of the weapons were finely crafted and many were ornate or gilded. Some even had a strange red or blue sheen to the steel, which struck him as familiar even though he had never once seen anything like them. He could easily have stared at many of the beautiful weapons for some time... but instead his attention was drawn to a thin sword in back.

The blade was unusually gray, so much so that it did not reflect the firelight. Though the handle was heavily worn, the blade itself lay untouched. Slaten found himself reaching out to pick it up, admiring the balance even though it was not his accustomed style. Yet what struck him was not steel, but sein...

"Do they look with their hands wherever you come from?" The smith had crossed most of the distance between them, his smile slipping... yet when he saw the blade Slaten held, his expression became something slightly sad. "Ah. Interesting that you would choose that one."

"I meant no offense, I just..."

"None taken, my boy! I keep this display here to see where errants look first." The smith turned away from him, passing his hands a hair away from the blades. "The shiniest are to catch the eye of young and rich fools, of course. The more discerning will notice the quality of this simple pike, or those who want bloodsteel will be attracted to this hammer. For swordsmen, of course, the most important sword here is this one in the back."

Slaten had not even noticed the three weapons the smith pointed out. Now that he looked at them, he could see that they were of a finer quality than the others, and the last sword in particular had a strange quality to it that he struggled to describe, even to himself. He swallowed a strange sensation as the smith turned and took the gray sword from his hands.

"This blade... was not meant to be here. It is a weapon with a sad history. I have long meant to reforge it, but it carries the memories of the man who wielded it..." Without warning, all the sadness on the smith's face vanished and he grinned at Slaten. "My name is Mantyos! Well met!"

Alongside his greeting, he put the gray sword aside and thrust out a hand. He crooked his elbow almost as if he wanted to arm wrestle as some mansthein did, yet it seemed a greeting. Slaten carefully returned the gesture, awkwardly trying to clasp wrists in the Oken way. Mantyos ignored the awkwardness and cheerfully grabbed his hand, gripping it tightly.

"And will you give me your name, mysterious stranger?"

"My name is Slaten." He realized that Natala still stood behind him and gestured to her. "And this is Natala."

"Well met!" Mantyos took a large step over to her and clasped her hand in exactly the same way, apparently not noticing how Natala winced at his grip. The smith didn't stand like a warrior, yet he had unusually strong hands. "Now, boy, tell me: why did you look at that sword in particular?"

"The truth is that I don't know." Slaten took the sword back and stared over the edge for a time, then simply set it back in its place. "All I can say is that it caught my attention first."

Mantyos roared with laughter and struck him on the back. "Good answer! Usually after I flatter someone about picking the most interesting sword, they can come up with a reason right away!"

"Then... is there anything unusual about it at all?"

"Oh, there is." Mantyos immediately became somber again and brushed his fingers along the edge. "I think, friend, that you are far from home, not to know these arts. Have you come from Fareshel, perhaps? Eltar Trathe?"

"No. I have journeyed from across the Sotunn Mountains."

"Well! That is quite a trip, and perhaps a greater ordeal in these trying times."

Uncomfortable with the focus turning toward him, Slaten gestured to the blade. "Someone from Portant would recognize this steel?"

"Indeed they would. This blade was reforged as soulsteel, truly becoming part of its wielder. To all others, it is only a lump of metal, so this blade is a sad, useless legacy. Yet the arts that once forged it retain the edge, after all these years..."

"Is that the secret of northern steel? I have always heard that the northern nations forge the best steel in all Breilin."

"What? Hah!" Mantyos clapped him on the back again and then gestured into the smithy. "You seem a curious lad, would you like a lesson? Come, come, I have a pot of fhoka ready. You too, girl, you look like you could use something to warm you up."

Though it was actually warmer than Slaten had expected, after the mountains, he nodded his acceptance. The smith tugged on a rough shirt as he moved to a small corner of his shop with a small table and several stools, where he poured a dark drink into two metal cups. They had been finely wrought with patterns of flowers, making them look absurdly delicate in the smith's battered hands.

Soon enough, he sat them down in stools and lay a cup before each of them. Slaten noticed that Mantyos now kept his distance from Natala, never looming over her as he had at first. There was more to him than first appeared.

Mantyos sat and watched them until they took a sip. Slaten found the fhoka to be slightly bitter, yet bracing, and nodded his approval. It didn't seem that the smith cared, simply grasping the pot as if it was a mug and drinking from the side. When he set it down with a satisfied sigh, he began speaking.

"Portant, Espal, and Wahleen will all claim that they forge the best steel in the Maenhu. Looking at steel as simply steel, I believe that Wahleen has the best claim to that crown. But when sein arts are applied to the metal, well! That is a different story entirely!"

Slaten leaned forward, fascinated. "I knew that I felt something unusual... is sein somehow forged into the steel itself?"

"Sein is life, boy. How can it be placed into dead metal?" Mantyos sat back and shook his head, his gray hair flying from side to side. "Yet there are still ways to use sein arts to create superior weapons. All master smiths use techniques to make their forges burn hotter and to create truer steel and better edges. There, as I said, I believe Wahleen can rightfully boast."

"But you said that there were other ways. What is soulsteel?"

"It might be easier to start with something different. Did you notice the weapons with a red coloring? Those are forged from bloodsteel, the blood taken from the errant themselves. Make no mistake, you cannot simply mix a little blood into the metal and expect anything to happen. But if warriors truly give up part of themselves... the weapons are not alive, but they are something close to it."

Slaten looked over his shoulder to the rack of weapons, considering. "Then do some warriors force others to sacrifice themselves to forge weapons?"

"It can be done." Mantyos became somber again, his elation from his explanations fading. "Your mind travels to dark places, boy, but many others have considered the same thing. But that is the path of cowards and fools, errants without purpose or respect. It is little different than ordering others to fight your battles for you, and no warrior who demands such will ever become a Steelmaster."

"But the bloodsteel weapons you have there..."

"The coin of cowards and fools is worth exactly the same!" Mantyos laughed loudly and took a long drink from the pot. After slamming it back to the table, he wiped the fhoka from his beard and continued. "There are different bloodsteel techniques for different purposes. Soulsteel is something different yet, forged by arts that would be difficult to explain. Such weapons are useless in the hands of another, at times worse than useless."

"Fascinating. I would like to know more of these techniques."

"And I believe that you would! So few errants are interested in such things, this is a welcome reprieve! But first, I have been dying to see that weapon at your side."

Slaten unsheathed his blade and handed it to him. The smith rapidly examined the blade with a practiced air, testing the balance and running his finger along the edge with no concern for being cut. As he worked, he nodded thoughtfully.

"Yes, hmm... this is a solid blade. The smith clearly struggled with inferior metals, yet they have ma-"

"That sword is not some treasure from my home. I took it from the site of a battle after my previous weapon broke."

"Good, because it's a piece of shit!" Mantyos laughed and flipped the sword around to hand it to him hilt-first. "You seem like you know your steel, boy."

"I feel that I know very little, considering I had never even heard of the forging arts you spoke of."

"Nonsense! Anyone can learn new words, but it is difficult to learn to stop being a fool. I often see young errants in here, convinced they can forge a legendary pike from their heartblood and become a Steelmaster in a day. I give them the best they can afford and send them on their way. But you... I hope that you are not merely passing through Torgaadi?"

Before Slaten could answer, the door opened loudly. In the frame stood a tall woman, middle-aged but well-preserved in the manner of sein masters. She wore little armor except gauntlets and a helm that framed her face and swept back her hair, yet the way she held the pike in her hand suggested that she knew how to use it. He noted that the steel had a dark red cast, and judging from the woman's stern expression, he wasn't sure whose blood had forged it.

"Olondris! Welcome back!" Mantyos bounded to his feet, his face immediately filled with an immense fondness. The woman didn't smile back, simply stared at Slaten and Natala.

"Those two had better be customers and not another charity case."

"They are new friends!" The smith strode across the room to her, waving his hand back to them. "They have come to us from across the Sotunns, can you believe that? The boy has an eye for steel, and I would love to see how such foreign sein reacts to well-forged arms."

"A Greater Ironlord?" Olondris looked first at the insignia on his mantle, then briefly over the rest of him. "I will be the judge of that."

As Slaten watched the two of them, he remained unsure as to their relationship. He did not think that Mantyos was a warrior, yet despite the age visible on his face, he had the body of a far younger man, so perhaps the arts of a smith had preserved him. Olondris looked to be twenty years younger and was cast from a similar mold of handsome features. Given their interactions, perhaps his daughter?

When Mantyos reached Olondris, he grabbed her around the waist, pulled her hard against him, and kissed her on the mouth. She kissed back just as passionately, gripping his neck with her free hand. Hopefully not his daughter.

After they parted, for the first time the woman's sternness faded and she regarded Mantyos with a deep fondness. "Very well, they can stay for tonight. After that, we must know who they are and what they want."

"Of course, of course." Mantyos turned fully to them, keeping his arm around her waist. "My wife has given her permission, so consider yourselves welcome! Come, let me brew some more fhoka!" Abruptly he froze, looking at them as if in real concern. "You will stay, won't you?"

Slaten glanced at Natala, who gave no reaction, and took a slow sip from his cup. "I suppose that we will."

Chapter 27

-

"A carved set for a well-off Feinan merchant:

* Dark Lord statue with painted eyes

* Zeitai Xetsu statue (carve Feinan ears)

* Noble Zeitai statue

* Hooded Zeitai statue"

- order of a shrine woodcarver

-

As it was always unwise to upset the Voidwalkers, particularly when asking for a favor, Celivia never visited their headquarters. She would simply have to hope that Unila would honor her promise and find her when she returned. In the meantime Celivia had lodging from Jeraeli, though the other woman left on campaign after a few days, leaving her mostly without connections.

It seemed that any interest in her had evaporated after her previous visit to Castle Wahles. She took it as a sign that she was on the right path: her only hope was to succeed at the impossible assignment she had been given. If she managed it, perhaps she could join the mysterious operation in the west, which she had been unable to learn anything more about.

Then, one day, there was simply a knock on her door. Celivia opened it to find Unila standing there and knew that her waiting was at an end.

"You didn't wait long on that favor, did you?" The Voidwalker sighed and rubbed her eyes. "In a sense, you're lucky: I just finished extensive training to expand my route. But I'm also expected to immediately reinforce that work, so my time is limited. I can take you and others along with me, but if you need me to go far outside my schedule, don't ask."

"Depending on where you need to travel," Celivia said slowly, "this might still work. Where are you going?"

"No, you tell me just what kind of scheme this is before I give that information."

"Very well. I need strong warriors to have any hope of stopping the human raiders. If the Zeitai won't assign me any, I have no choice but to ask some of my friends. They're stationed at several key military points, so I hope that your schedule would take you near them."

Unila rubbed her eyes more vigorously. "You had better hope that these friends are willing to follow you in this mad scheme, or going across the world to beg them is going to be more than a little uncomfortable."

"They've journeyed across the world to meet me. Ever since the pits, we would do anything for each other." With others she might have stressed how much they had been through together, but Unila knew, even if she had taken a different path. She stared back for a short time, then nodded.

"Then we need to speak of specific paths. Just where do you need to go?"

Though Celivia hadn't anticipated needing to make her plans so abruptly, she knew the location of her old friends automatically. "One is with Zeitai Xetsu in Baelen, one is a liaison in Laerith, and one is with the Vear - maybe in Veartel or maybe one of their outposts. Then... I'm not as certain of it, but since I assume you will pass through Ith Silvaros, I think I can call in a favor there."

"Hmm. This can work." Unila shifted onto her back foot and gazed into space as she considered. "You're damn lucky that I'm taking a message to Zeitai Xetsu's position. I need to go to Laen Karnak, so I can leave you in Laerith for a few days. But your Vear friend... if she's not in Veartel, I won't be able to help you."

"That's more than I'd hoped. And Ith Silvaros?"

"That will depend on if I'm given anything of higher priority, but it's likely, given the importance of some of these messages."

Celivia felt an impulse to hide her smile of relief, but let it shine through. She knew that if she could contact her friends, they would gladly help her - Ghalia might even relish the fight. "Thank you, Unila. I know you said I had a favor, but I won't forget this."

"Hmf. You're not as bad as some, demanding I voidwalk whole shipments across the world. Your friends are at least basically trained in voidwalking?"

"At least to the stage of using voidlinks." She actually wasn't sure in some cases, but decided not to press it, now that she was so close. "When do we leave?"

"Now. Right now. Get your things and let's go."

That put Celivia in a difficult position, yet as she turned back to her room, she realized that it would be easy to prepare. She had never felt truly at home in Wahleen, most of her things remained in her pack. There weren't many, after so long hiking through human territory. Celivia simply stuffed some of her clothes into her pack, placed the pearl comb in her hair, checked her weapons, and then she was ready.

"Not bad," Unila said. "Maybe this won't waste much of my time after all. Now stand close."

The world collapsed in around them and Celivia felt herself cast into the void. This time she actually had heartbeats to drift among the scattered fragments, barely even herself. It was this overflowing emptiness that had bested her when she trained as a Voidwalker, simply too vast and infinitesimally small at once for her to cope.

Unila, however, soon expanded the world around them. They stood in the center of a square, suddenly across the world. They had mostly traveled south, so the sun had only leapt slightly westward, but Celivia shivered as cold air rushed in around them. It might be summer in Wahleen, but it was winter on Orphos, and Laerith lay very far south.

"Sorry, I'm not used to traveling this far." Unila seemed unmoved until she took a step and her leg nearly buckled. "I intended to leave you here, but I should rest before I move on. The Laenans will have me moving supplies for them."

Though Celivia considered offering her arm, she decided it would be taken as an insult. "I will likely need to visit an administrative office to find my friend, and that should be near the Voidwalker headquarters. Shall we go together before you leave me here?"

"Fine." Despite her terse response, Unila did seem grateful as they left the entrance square and entered Laerith.

The capital of Laen Karnak was a formidable place, showing a completely different kind of wealth than Ith Silvaros. From the beginning, the Laenans had never tried to compete with the capital. Instead they built restrained, efficient buildings. Even a mansion she spotted had identical pillars and statues perfectly distributed behind the hedge front.

"Are the Voidwalker headquarters nearby?" Celivia asked. Unila only shook her head and trudged on.

"Not in a city like Laerith. Too many people coming and going. It's... this way."

Freed of concerns over guiding them, Celivia simply enjoyed walking through the new city and observing the crowds. Most around her had silver or white hair, but she noted a few green-tinted heads that reminded her of Jeraeli. Their clothes were far more conservative, layered shirts and jackets common among both men and women. Some of the women wore elegant dresses with high collars, very different than formal Seinan robes.

Celivia noted in surprise that she saw more than occasional humans. Most wore identical clothes to the Laenans, and some must have dyed their hair white. It was actually the lack of characteristic thin Laenan horns that drew her attention, though after she noticed, the humans stood out to her. Still, they appeared more at home in Laerith than Celivia and Unila.

Laenan mansthein had always stood apart from the age-old conflicts between Feinan and Seinan, so she wondered yet again what role they might play. For now, most factions worked together under the leadership of the Senate. But if the humans ever mustered any similar unity, then their superior numbers might fracture the mansthein armies.

It didn't take them long to reach their destination: the Voidwalker headquarters even had their name written in the blocky Laenan version of Futhik. When they stepped inside, they entered a buzzing hive of activity. The large building was well-appointed and especially well-organized, with one entrance for business, one for Voidwalkers, and one for those hoping to receive items or messages.

Unila ignored everyone and shuffled her way over to a desk that appeared devoted to messages. When she set down a chit, the Laenan man behind it immediately gave her a respectful nod and began looking through a particular file. Since it seemed that it might take him some time, Celivia's gaze wandered back over the frenzied activity around them.

This time, she saw only one person.

Reina sat over one end of a bench, slumped atop a pillow she had propped on the arm rest. Though she had changed into stiff Laenan clothes, the purple tint to her hair and skin made her stand out. Besides, the only others present as short as her were young messengers.

"Rei!" Celivia called out to her, and in an instant the other woman leapt from sulking to overjoyed. She shot across the floor in a blink and collided with Celivia's stomach, arms wrapped around her.

"Celi! What are you doing here?"

"Isn't that my question? I thought I'd have to search all over for you." Celivia pulled Reina away and brushed back some of her hair with a fond smile. It always flew everywhere when she ran.

"I was waiting for messages. This assignment is awful, Celi, just awful. All that gets me through is hearing from the others... I wish you weren't out in the middle of nowhere so you could write to me. Lurimin sends very nice letters when she can, and even Ghalia responds sometimes, but still..."

"A Bersk?" Unila's voice interrupted the reunion. The Voidwalker stared between them as if she couldn't believe what she saw. "Your friend is a Bersk?"

All at once, Reina's body became a coil of rage. Celivia tried to hold her back, but the smaller woman slipped out of her grasp and leapt to face the Voidwalker. Her fingers twitched as if she wanted to grab the cleavers hanging at her waist. "I don't like your tone."

Unila flinched, but her eyes remained hard. "I didn't expect one of Celivia's friends to have thrown her life away like that."

"You think I chose this?" Reina took another step forward, her sein rising like a bloody wind. "No, this is how they made use of me, back in Spathor. They stole my chance to grow up normally. They stole years from my life. Even if I attain a Catai rebirth, I'll always be stunted. So yes, I might be Bersk. But if you have the nerve t-"

"I'm sorry." Unila raised her hands, eyes a bit wide as she understood that she had gone too far. "Truly, I am. I thought you had volunteered as a cheap path to power."

"There aren't as many volunteers as you might want to think."

"I meant disrespect, but I should not have. Please, both of us have known many of the same struggles. I'm sorry that I didn't understand yours."

Reina glared at her, eyes burning, and then slowly backed down. The dangerous hints of seinrage faded and Celivia's tense muscles relaxed. For a moment, she had worried that Reina would lose control and need to be restrained. Celivia thought she could have done it, especially with her recent breakthrough, but it would have been bad for everyone.

As Reina and Unila made their apologies, Celivia observed both of them with her new eyes. Unila's spirit was a small flame shooting off violent sparks in all directions, as were most of the other Voidwalkers in the building. Reina... she was a sphere of blood red flame.

Once she had said enough to smooth over the incident, Unila quickly turned to Celivia. "I need to rest and then do some heavy work throughout Laen Karnak. Until then, you need to take care of yourself. Return here every day at noon to meet me, because however long this takes, by the end I'm going to be behind schedule to reach my next destination."

"I understand," Celivia said. "Thank you, Unila."

"This will be the death of me." Unila barely avoided shooting a glance at Reina, then stalked past the guards into the inner parts of the Voidwalker headquarters.

That left Reina and Celivia standing together. The shorter woman immediately hugged Celivia with one arm and whispered mischievously. "Don't worry, Celi, I wasn't really about to lose control. I've been testing the edges of seinrage as part of my training. I know it might look bad sometimes, but it's intimidating, isn't it?"

"That's a nasty trick." Celivia ran a hand over Reina's hair affectionately. "It seems that we will have some time together, so you can tell me all about it."

"I'd love to, but what is this actually about, Celi? Why come all the way here?"

As they walked to Reina's quarters, Celivia explained her impossible assignment and the way she saw her dilemma. Unsurprisingly, Reina was completely supportive except where it came to her band, who Reina assumed would be better off decapitated. Eventually they reached a low barracks and Celivia stopped beside the entrance, taking Reina's hand.

"I know you want to help, Rei, but can you? You aren't on leave this time."

"Not that it matters." Reina made a face before tugging her into the building. "I thought that I would be an adviser here, but no one wants to hear anything I have to say. The Laenans are determined to move forward no matter what I try, so they just need me as... a figurehead. To give the project legitimacy."

"They're thinking of developing a Bersk program?"

"They claim that it will be better, of course, and won't have so many negative side effects. And the one thing I will admit is that their specialists seem to really care. We've talked a lot about my rebirth and improvements that can be made, and I've learned so much more than I thought there was to know about rebirthing. But being able to create a better Bersk and actually doing it are two different things."

"Because of the cost?"

"Exactly. I thought the Seinans were inflating the cost of rebirths to hold other groups down, but so many of the acids are so rare... I think they're actually allowing as many as possible. But the Bersk rebirth is already somewhat expensive, for shock troops with short lives, so making them even more expensive just to improve their quality of life..."

As Reina explained everything about her position, they traveled deeper into the military quarters. Though built from local stone and bearing pennants of Laenan green, the building was nearly identical to so many others that Celivia had seen throughout the world. Across so many continents and nations, the mansthein military machine produced identical buildings. Compared to the unfamiliar environment in Wahleen, it was faintly comforting.

The conversation continued as they entered Reina's quarters, which were little more than a box with a bed. Atop the bed lay a bundle of thick blankets that Celivia would have gladly used during spring in the mountains. Without the need to discuss it, they locked the door and wrapped up together in the blankets, facing each other.

They had done the same a long time ago, in shreds of fabric instead of blankets.

Slowly Celivia felt all her tension melt away. When Reina finished griping and began to ask questions, Celivia answered freely. It had been so long since she could speak completely openly to someone, to complain without being criticized. In that moment, using up her resources felt entirely worth it, just to be able to touch another person without concern.

As it grew darker outside and gas lamps lit up in the streets, they spoke of everything. Shared frustrations with their assignments, enjoyed comparing their training, and discussed what would come next. Just when Celivia felt that she could not be more relaxed, Reina reached out to touch the side of her face, then slid her hand down to rest on her neck.

"Celi... you haven't found anyone, have you?"

It would be so easy just to allow their comfortable intimacy to drift into something more. Part of her longed for it, but the problem was that it was too easy. So much of what bound them together as allies made being partners simply too painful.

"I haven't. But Rei..." Celivia gently took the other woman's hand in both of hers, then gave it a gentle, painful kiss. "You know how much you mean to me, but we can't be this. I'm sorry."

For a moment Reina stared as if her heart was breaking again, then she threw herself forward to embrace her. Celivia tensed for only a moment before she realized that Reina simply wanted to lie next to her. "At least hold me, Celi. Even if we can't... I still need you."

Celivia wrapped her arms around the other woman and held her close as they drifted to sleep. There was pain between them, but it was an old and familiar pain. Celivia embraced that as well.

Chapter 28

-

"The Zeitai stood in the center of Fkaz and told the strongest young teeth that he had a challenge for them. Each was to be given an egg of a rare cockatrice that fed on pure sein. They were to feed their sein to the egg for the full year and the bird that hatched would be the proof of their full strength. Every ambitious tooth took an egg, including a boy named Fasn."

- Feinan version of The Zeitai's Egg

-

After many days traveling along the river, Tani felt as though she again had her bearings. Her time in the Sotunn Mountains had been frequently troubling, but now she could take steps forward without falling more back. The errants might not be Nelee, and at times she felt a terrible longing, yet something in their camaraderie made her feel nearly at home.

Though her grand wager remained unresolved, and Worise still regarded her skeptically, most of the other errants had accepted her among them. They shared the work of running the vessel, and though she knew little of ships, she could help with some tasks. As surprisingly fleet of foot as they might be in their armor, Tani could be more agile yet. She also helped the cook, who was not well-regarded among the other errants, and won some acclaim for her attempts to improve their fare.

In return, they taught her a great deal. The simplest of it was the sparring, as they kept part of the deck clear in order to practice daily. She quickly learned that the errants were formidable, their armor capable of withstanding her sickle knife even when supported by her sein. Though she was convinced they used their sein within their armor somehow, they refused to speak of those secrets.

Strangely, she saw no sacred texts among them, and when Hamoit saw her studying her master's case, he remarked upon it. As far as she could tell, the northern nations had few texts, instead passing along living traditions from mentor to student.

The training was the least of it. Once they understood that she was ignorant of their nations but not unintelligent, they were happy to explain many things to her without any scorn. She finally understood that they had an obsession with division and categorization. Weaker warriors fell into the "Realm of Iron" and were called Ironsquires and then Ironlords. Those she would have called masters formed the "Realm of Steel" as Steeljudges and finally Steelmasters. Each of those titles was subdivided into three smaller ranks, but that struck her as unnecessarily separation.

Alongside a dozen minor delights, she had been doing her best to learn the Reili language. It no longer sounded so harsh to her, and though the order of words was very strange, it followed consistent rules. Since most spoke Coran, however, she hadn't learned as much as she'd hoped. Once she could listen and hear more than a few words, she hoped to learn yet more from the conversations around her.

Her favorite discovery was truly understanding that they didn't have seasons in the north, not as she thought of them. Instead of rainy and dry seasons, their year cycled between four phases. The warmest of their seasons - "summer" - had ended recently, leading into two progressively colder seasons. She wondered if she would have survived, if they had attempted to cross the Sotunn Mountains in the coldest, and she did not look forward to the next winter.

Still, their stories of new growth in spring or the changing trees in autumn captured her imagination. Whatever their seasons, rainy or freezing, humans always sought peace and beauty. The north even celebrated a holiday akin to the Dawn of Spirit, determined by the same cycle of the sun and stars.

She thought that Dawn of Spirit was a much better name than "Last of the Year", but she wasn't going to argue. One day perhaps she could celebrate with them.

"Errants ho!" A shout rang from the front of the ship, warning that they would soon encounter another vessel. Tani finished her exercises and hopped to her feet, pulling her scarf over her head. They had taught her that respectable women in Espal did not go about with their hair uncovered, and though she thought it was a strange custom, they seemed to take it very seriously.

Even in armor. After seeing many of the errants' faces, Tani realized that there was a simple pattern: all the women wore clothes that wrapped tightly around their heads and neck, even the women whose helms would have covered them anyway. That was truly absurd, in Tani's opinion, but she did not want to argue with her hosts.

Looking ahead, she saw several ships had stopped where a curve in the river formed a place for a small harbor. It looked like any of the other minor posts in the desert to her, aside from the fact that many armored warriors were visible by the river. She saw Hamoit standing near the front of the boat and moved to stand beside him.

"Hamoit, why did they call about the errants?"

"Because they aren't Espalese." He pointed toward some of the figures ahead, trusting that she could see them. Her sensory arts, at least, seemed to be better than they expected. "If you don't know the flags, you can still see their armor. Note the gaps between the plates and the dark fabric underneath. And their women go about with heads covered in nothing but braids."

"Ah, I see now. If they're going to cause a problem, could we not simply continue past them?"

"This isn't a threat, Tani, it's a challenge. Don't worry, this won't come to blood." He leaned against the rail, however, giving the field considerable scrutiny.

One element of life in the north that Tani had yet to master was fully understanding the people of the Maenhu nations. She could note some traits of their clothing or armor, yet the people themselves seemed almost the same. Almost all had varying shades of blond hair, and she observed a similar range of skin tones. All had fairly wide eyes, though not as large as Laeri's. If they had lived on the Chorhan Expanse, she would have identified them all as a single unknown people.

Yet they cared about the differences between them with a ferocity that matched any Rhen rivalry. Three vast nations, too large to know all of their people, and they managed to hate other equally vast nations. She wanted to understand and had so far failed to do so. Stranger yet, they referred to themselves as one Maenhu in a manner she wasn't sure she wholly understood.

As they drew closer, she saw that the errants who had left their ships met each other on the field. She noticed many contests of strength and realized that they were always between Portantese and Espalese armor. Elsewhere they held contests of precision and once of archery, yet none of them sparred or drew real weapons. Coming to a conclusion, she glanced over at Hamoit.

"Are we stopping solely to have a meaningless contest with Portantese knights?"

"It isn't meaningless!" His protest quickly gave way to a smile, however. "I will admit that it is not the most useful of contests, but it is a matter of respect. This way, young errants can take off their armor and release some stress. We can prove ourselves or test one another without an outbreak of violence."

"Is this a common event? It is a wonder that you ever make it to the end of the river."

Hamoit laughed. "I have only seen this happen one other time, but all errants are familiar with such contests. They are a sign that we are not at war, so they deserve to be celebrated."

"And how often have you been at war?"

"Often. Almost endlessly. Portant always seeks to expand its borders and claim our l-"

Tani rolled her eyes and cut him off. "How often in your lifetime?"

"Twice." Hamoit smiled, but his eyes regarded her seriously. "I know you do not understand our long history, but it still speaks to us today. There have been vicious wars and even terrible slaughters, in the centuries before the ranks prevented such atrocities."

"What do you mean?" She leaned closer, fixating on his statement. Perhaps their bizarre system of ranks had some purpose after all?

"It is a matter of respect. The truth is that an Ironsquire could never defeat an Ironlord, and so on through the ranks. Yes, I know you are an unusual case. But here, with well-trained errants, those laws are absolutes. An Ironsquire facing a superior enemy would lay down his arms, instead of being cut down in the flower of youth. A Steeljudge could easily slaughter an entire town, but that is no longer necessary: the town would simply surrender."

Tani smiled broadly as she understood. She could respect the spirit of such customs, if not their exact nature. Similar practices existed among the Rhen, though they rarely held up when contests became war... such thoughts eroded her smile. "And does everyone follow those laws when true war breaks out?"

"It is the way of the errant and the Maenhu. Someone who abused their strength would be punished by their own." Hamoit frowned as he stared out toward the nearing contest grounds. "But... you are right. When war arrives in its bloody glory, the laws are not always followed. Instead of punishment, there is retribution."

"I see." Wanting to take the conversation away from that negative point, Tani sought for another question. "You are a Peak Ironlord, yes? If you faced a Lesser Steeljudge, you would simply lay down your arms?"

"Ha, no! With great strategy, tenacity, or skill, it is at times possible to defeat someone above your rank. It is something to boast about, and the stories are filled with tales of Ironsquires who banded together to beat Ironlords. But if I faced a Steelmaster..." Hamoit turned to meet her gaze. "If you fought a true master, would you throw yourself at them?"

Thinking back to the Zeitai, Tani could only shake her head.

"But worry not! Eight years ago, the Portantese attempted to claim a large portion of the river and it came down to war. At that time, our customs prevailed. Instead of striking down lesser errants, the strongest seek to break the enemy lines and set fire to their supply camps. No army can advance when its supplies are destroyed, so battles can be won or lost by brave errants, with limited loss of life."

"I think I understand now. Is that how all of you can talk of such tension on the border without any actual violence? What keeps them in check?"

"Our strongest are positioned to balance one another. If a Portantese Steelmaster waits on one side of the river, and an Espalese Steelmaster sits on the other, the fighting of those beneath them is mostly irrelevant. Thus we are free to engage in such competitions, while the greater powers play subtle games of position and advantage."

"Then both sides have the same number of Steelmasters?"

"Not exactly, but sometimes Peak Steeljudges are nearly comparable. And there are the Benighted Fools, of course."

"Of course? Who are they?"

"They're as idiotic as they sound." Worise walked past them, clapping her mailed gauntlets together to get everyone's attention. "Stop talking, both of you. Prepare to disembark and show these Portantese dogs our steel. Prove yourselves without drawing any blood."

All of them nodded in agreement and prepared to leave the ship as it finally finished negotiating its position on the dock. As they walked out, however, Tani leaned closer and whispered to Hamoit. "So who are these Benighted Fools?"

"They are warriors, but not errants. Worise may hate them, but... no matter. We can discuss this later. I'm sure that you will have more questions than I can possibly answer now."

"Just one last question, then: what am I supposed to do?"

"You're a neutral party, but all warriors are part of the Maenhu." Before he moved away, Hamoit smiled over his shoulder. "Just don't kill anyone and you should be respectful enough."

Though Tani smiled in response, she couldn't feel so relaxed about this unexpected contest. As she walked into the contest grounds, she watched everything carefully. For her, this needed to be an opportunity.

All around her, she saw errants contesting with one another. Some locked arms and pushed, some tried to knock each other off a narrow beam, some even played games of skill. But all of those meant the same thing to her: warriors using their sein to its fullest extent.

As much as Tani had learned on her journey, she had not yet mastered another sense. She strongly suspected that what would be required for the stick to evaluate her more highly was a deeper awareness of her own sein. Yet everything new swirling in her mind actually made it more difficult to focus on the core she had developed in the mountains. Though she was agonizingly close, understanding of it still eluded her.

If she failed the wager, then Worise would take her weapons in payment. That couldn't happen. Beyond losing the gift from her master, it would mean going unarmed, and that thought sent a stab of panic through her stomach.

So Tani scrutinized all the warriors around her, searching for some secret that would finally unlock all of her progress. The errants might be different, yet sein flowed through them, the same as everyone else. Surely she could find some answer...

For some time she watched a crowd of errants competing in the game of beasts. Some were slow and clumsy, but others astonished her. When they thrust out their hands, they changed the beast they presented multiple times, perceiving their opponent and responding in a fraction of an instant. It was not merely a test of brute speed, but also of the ability to think quickly. More than once she saw an errant react quickly enough, but lose or tie because they chose the wrong beast.

If she threw herself into such training, Tani thought that she could learn something that would enhance her own speed. But it would not unlock any of her sein, so for now, she needed to set it aside. Instead she wandered, searching for something specific that she couldn't name.

"Come, challenge me! A sack of wood to the errant who can knock me from my post!"

Near the center of the contests, an errant stood atop a thin wooden log, balanced on one leg. As Tani watched, several armored warriors took his challenge, rushing forward and attempting to shake his balance. Yet the core of his body remained untouched as he wielded a long staff, hooking his opponents' feet and sending them tumbling to the ground before they could reach him.

As she watched, the errant bested every contender. He had clearly considered his challenge carefully, with a counter to every attempt thrown against him. Yet most of his opponents struck from the front, trusting their speed or endurance to pass his range and knock him from his place. Perhaps...

Tani took one of her throwing knives in both hands and breathed on it deeply. She continued to fill the blade with her sein until it could bear no more, then waited. When the errant was distracted by two other attackers bearing long poles, she threw her knife at the back of his helm.

The errant ducked his head aside without turning to look.

For a moment Tani only stared, too surprised to react. As she went to retrieve her knife, realizing that she was fortunate it had not accidentally hit anyone as it flew off, she tried to puzzle over what had happened. The errant wore a full helm that should have rendered his vision mostly blind spot. She had thrown too swiftly and silently for him to have heard her blade, or so she thought. How could he have evaded it?

By the time Tani found her knife, she thought she understood: the trick lay in the fact that he had dodged at all. Compared to all the heavy weapons set against him, she had expected him to try to deflect her knife and for the momentum to ruin his balance. The fact that he had dodged, even when it might have been easier to use his staff, meant that he had felt her knife.

When she returned, she saw no other challengers. Instead of throwing again, she kept her hands at her sides and began to walk forward toward him. The errant immediately turned to regard her.

"If you think that you can pretend disinterest and then tackle me, you will be sorely disappointed."

"No, I surrender any right to challenge you." Tani smiled up at him as she drew closer. "But I must know: how did you evade my throw? You must have felt the sein of it, but so precisely..."

"Fortunately for you, it is no secret art. Instead, it is the simplest of matters." The errant bent down so his face was nearer hers, though he remained balanced on one foot. "Some would have you believe that the body's only senses are sight, smell, and so forth. This is pure balderdash. Which of those senses tell you when you are hungry? How do you know if you are balanced? Ironsquires speak of four senses, but Steelmasters know the truth."

Her eyes widened as she started to understand. "Then you used one of those senses? I do not think you felt my knife with a rumbling in your stomach."

"No, it was something that is often forgotten. Tell me, if you close your eyes, do you cease to know where your legs stand or your arms move?"

"Of course not. I had thought this was simply the nature of the body, since it would be strange if it were not so... but it is true, in my mind I always know the position of my body, separate from my other senses."

"Then you understand. If you know your sein well, there is no reason this sensation cannot be extended to the space beyond your body. So when you threw your knife, I knew it as surely as I knew the position of my own feet. I would be a rather clumsy errant to trip myself up, no?"

Tani bowed deeply to the man, hoping that he understood the depth of her feeling. "Thank you. You have taught me something of great value."

The errant merely chuckled and straightened again. "Take it freely, young errant. Sometimes I fear our nations spend too much time staring at one another and too little looking beyond our contested borders. You are welcome in the Maenhu, stranger."

She bowed again, then hastened back to the ship. For the next several days, Tani blocked out all other thoughts and focused solely on her sein.

Just as she had hoped, her new awareness matched perfectly with what her master had been trying to teach her. What she had gained was not a simple sense of sight or hearing, but the positioning of her own body. She began with familiar arts, attempting to truly feel the position of her knives or the movement around her.

At last it blossomed into something new that took her breath away. Tani felt as though a third arm had been dangling from her back her entire life and suddenly she became aware of it. The movement of sein around her was not merely mint, but a sensation she felt deeply in her muscles. Not only did new sein rush through her, the movements of all her old arts felt as clumsy as a newborn calf. She would need to relearn her own self.

When they reached the border to Espal, Tani did not hesitate to grasp the branch, and she was not surprised when four of the spheres came alight. Worise stared down at them for a time, then grunted in acknowledgment.

"I lose the wager, then... Peak Ironlord. Consider everything you have received from us a gift from Espal."

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Hamoit appeared on her other side as Worise departed to put away the branch. "The border might be mostly safe in these days, but there are always dangers. You would be welcome in Throne Espal, and from there you could travel anywhere."

"Thank you, but no." Tani stared out to the east, into Portant. She had hoped that she would receive more dreams telling her where to find the others, yet she faced only the unknown. "Thank you, Hamoit, for everything. But I fear I must ask you for advice one more time."

"Fear nothing. I'm just glad to see Worise taken down a peg." He gave her another easy smile, though this one was tinged with regret. "What is it you would like to know?"

"Are there any current problems with Deathspawn in Portant?"

Hamoit tapped his gauntlet against his breastplate for a time as he thought. "They have no permanent position there, but I know of two exceptions. The Deathspawn claim that they can eradicate the raiders that plague merchants traveling from the south, so they sometimes receive permission to move through Portant or Espal."

"Freely given?"

"Provided they keep to the agreements, yes. Of course, it is all a part of the game, and their apparent generosity is only another attempt to gain advantage."

Tani frowned. "How so?"

"You recall what I taught you about Steelmasters balancing one another on the borders? Due to the Deathspawn claiming the north, Wahleen has more masters to cover a smaller border. Currently, they must still separate their attentions among the desert, the border with Portant, and the border with the Deathspawn. But if they brokered an agreement..."

"Then they could move all their Steelmasters to the border with Portant!"

He nodded grimly. "As much as I would like to see Portant lose territory to the east, it would disrupt the balance between the three powers. This tension has actually led armies to gather at the border, though they remain fixed in place by the balance of the strongest errants."

"So that is the primary problem with the Deathspawn?" It would certainly complicate her journey, especially if Melal reached the border and declared himself Hero. But to her surprise, Worise shook his head.

"No, the real problem is that rumors claim the Deathspawn have asked for entrance into Portant, without going through Wahleen. Could they be taking a side in the conflict? Is this their way of bringing Wahleen to heel without starting a war? I do not know, but whatever they are doing in the heart of Portant, it is more likely to destroy the balance than anything else."

"I think I understand." Despite the somberness of the news, Tani smiled and stretched to embrace Hamoit, despite his armor. "I understand many things now, and I only came this far, thanks to you."

"We were all young errants once, and we all had someone to help us go forward. I wish you well, Peak Ironlord Tani."

She gave him a final bow, then leapt from the ship for the last time. When she landed in the sandy soil, she stood in Portant. Before her stretched rolling hills, growing richer as they extended north. From the height of her jump, she had been able to see both fields ready to harvest and swathes of wilderness.

Somewhere in the middle of all of it, the Hero and the Deathspawn waited.

Chapter 29

-

"As rumors spread that the humans put their trust in a hero born in the Chorhan Expanse, I have taken it upon myself to study that exotic region. The humans of that region are made strong by the bladed grasses that cover the Expanse, so sharp that they slice apart the skin. Those who die to the grasses are scorned as weak and burned. Those who live long enough to die in battle are eaten by their allies, which they believe adds their strength to their own."

- Scholar Lanavin, treatise on the Chorhan Expanse

-

As they returned to the house, Natala periodically smiled at Laeri and occasionally patted her on the back. This was sufficient to sustain her side of the conversation.

"They use earth sein so interestingly here!" Laeri was saying. "Usually you would bend it toward yourself, but instead they mix it with sunlight sein and just... pour it into something else! Have you ever heard of such a thing?"

"I have not."

"It's just so fascinating. I think I would have thought it was too clumsy before, but after seeing the Bloodskin healing arts I'm trying to think more broadly, you know? And Elima showed me that I didn't really understand starlight sein at all, even though I'd studied all about it. Oh, poor Elima... but you don't know her, do you?"

Natala patted Laeri on the back.

"I still think about her sometimes. I wish I could ask her a question, but she's..." Laeri gripped her staff tighter and walked a bit faster. "That's why I'm glad to help the errants here! They don't have enough healers, so without me, some of them might have died. At the very least a nice young man would have lost his leg."

"Are you giving them your services for free?" Natala hadn't intended to ask any questions; this was an exception. Laeri blinked at her, then shook her head.

"Oh, no, they're giving me training in exchange for my help. I thought that I should, since it seems we'll be staying in Torgaadi for a while. And, um, they did give me some money." Laeri pulled a small sack from one of the folds in her robe, as if she needed to demonstrate the concept of money. "Melal and all the Bloodskins aren't really doing anything to earn money, so I'm supporting them. I'm glad to help, you know?"

"Of course, Laeri."

"Oh, um, not that I wouldn't help them if they didn't pay me. The guards here seem like such good people, I'm happy to heal them. I'd do my duty even if they were meaner, of course, but..."

"Would you heal the Bloodskin men if they needed it?"

"If they let me!" Laeri wilted, stumping a few steps forward and leaning on her staff. "I'm learning so many new things, but I'm not getting very much practice with serious combat wounds. I worry that we'll run into a dangerous situation... maybe I won't be able to heal the way I once did?"

"I'm sure you'll be better than before, Laeri."

Though Natala said the last in the same soothing tone as the rest, she actually meant it. At first she had established a negative opinion of Laeri, but the young woman was extremely skilled at her craft. According to the standards of the north, she had as strong a grasp of her sein as any of the warriors in the group. That might not keep her alive in a fight, but it would keep others alive.

Laeri's chatter carried them back to the smithy, where they'd resided for the past several days. Though Natala had not yet observed Mantyos and Olondris enough to draw final conclusions about them, she was glad to stay there. Not because of their company, but because of their books. It was only a small shelf, yet Natala drank them in whenever she could. Even if most only spoke of smithing and sein, they multiplied the total number of books she had read in her life.

When they entered the house, they found Melal standing in front of the weapons display. He grabbed one sword, frowned at it, then shoved it back, not in the same place. Natala had memorized the exact positioning of all of them, convinced that they had been placed quite intentionally, and calculated that Melal had replaced fully a third of the weapons.

"There you are." He turned around as soon as he heard them, dropping his current weapon onto the table. "The Bloodskins have been worthless since we arrived. Away from the mountains, they're useless. But once all of us are here, maybe we can actually make some progress."

His words were entirely directed to Laeri, his eyes passing over Natala as if she was no more interesting than any of the swords. She much preferred it that way. Currently the only other person in the building was Mantyos, who directed all his focus toward the weapon on his anvil.

Though he used no arts, he still dedicated himself wholly to his craft. Natala watched him, analyzing the muscles of his chest as they moved. Mantyos might not be quite as muscular as some Bloodskins, yet she thought his body might actually be superior. In her time, she had known a few men who grew old, their bodies beginning to fail. At an unknown number of years old, Mantyos still appeared in his prime, the beard falling over his chest a deep gray.

"Hey, old man." Melal stepped up to him. "Where's Slaten?"

"Coming in." Mantyos uttered those two words between strikes with his hammer, otherwise paying them no attention at all. Most leapt when Melal spoke, yet the old man didn't even seem to notice anything unusual.

Being ignored displeased Melal, but before he could say anything, one of the back doors of the smithy opened. Olondris entered with her usual stern expression, while Slaten limped after her, holding one arm as if it had been injured. That was likely good, given his priorities, but Laeri gasped and rushed over to help him.

Melal went with her and Natala followed just enough to listen. "Are these the two you found, Slaten? Just who are they? A smith and his daughter?"

"I don't know for sure," Slaten said. It was a curious lie, another symptom of his inability to give straight answers, since he should know.

He and Natala had slept in a small room on the second floor since their arrival. The house was impressive compared to the shacks she knew, but not large enough to contain very many rooms. That meant that their room was only a short distance from the bedroom of the two. While trying to sleep, Natala had learned that their bed rocked against a wall, and that the walls were strong enough to endure the bed slamming against them half the night. It had annoyed her enough that the previous night, over a particularly decent game of Yenith, Natala had retaliated with some noises of her own.

Ignoring the others, Olondris stepped up beside the smith, who finally set down his hammer and gave her a smile warmer than his forge. The kiss she planted on his cheek could almost have been familial, but the way her hand ran up the muscles of his side was decidedly not. Natala merely watched, while Melal took a step toward them.

"The two of you are married, then?"

"For many years!" Mantyos cheerfully put his hand around his wife's waist.

"Truly? You're old enough to be her father!"

"Oh, she is my daughter." Mantyos grinned and pulled her against his side. "That's the tradition, here in Portant."

Melal scowled as if it affected him in any way. Of course, the crinkle at the corners of Mantyos's eyes could only mean that it was a jest. Natala's observation was made redundant when Olondris rolled her eyes in a manner that required no interpretation.

"I hadn't heard of that custom before," Slaten said. Most eyes turned to him and Natala analyzed his expression incredulously. Only a blind fool could not have noticed how Olondris reacted, and Slaten was neither, yet he seemed to regard them with complete sincerity.

Natala laughed, breaking the silence and drawing the attention to her. She put a falsely modest hand over her mouth and giggled at the couple. "Your faces... you believed it..."

Mantyos promptly roared with laughter and went over to bludgeon Slaten around the shoulders. "You clever bastard! I didn't think you had it in you!" Laeri laughed as well, so Melal joined in, though he still appeared displeased.

Meanwhile, Natala just waited for Slaten to glance in her direction. Judging from his expression, he had not intended it as a joke, which was sufficiently strange that it required discussion later. For the meantime, he gave her a slight nod, appreciating that she had covered for him. Natala let a fraction of a true smile creep onto her face while he was watching.

"Jests aside, all of you have the wrong idea." Olondris still stood apart from the others, her hands clasped behind her back. "My husband is six years younger than I am."

"Oh, but he-" Laeri cut off and put her hands over her mouth. That just made Mantyos laugh again. When he moved a hand toward her shoulders, Natala wondered if he would knock the girl sprawling, but he restrained himself to patting her on the back.

"You don't need to hide it, girl, I know I'm a crusty old man! Only my dear Olondris is interested, because she's always been addled in the head." He walked back to her, putting an affectionate arm around her shoulders. "You see, my wife is a Steeljudge with excellent control of her body, so she stays her beautiful self for decades. She made me learn the same arts, so that we could stay together, but since my head is mostly filled with metal, it took me many years to master them."

Slaten leaned forward, far more engaged than he had been at the casual mention of incest. "Then errants do practice arts of the body?"

"I have a theory," Olondris said, "which I intended to share with you in time. But yes, we do. It is simply that we do not consider such arts appropriate for younger warriors, and it seems that some others disagree."

"How old are you, then?" Natala asked. Olondris turned gray eyes on her and answered briefly.

"Seventy six and eighty two."

Natala nodded as if she had merely been curious while her mind pulled apart the new information. All her life, she had seen sein as a tool of brute force. Yet she had observed Mantyos carefully and did not believe he had anything of the warrior in him. If he could so prolong his life... Natala did not wish to become a warrior, but the possibility of having so many more years to learn...

"There is no time for such nonsense!" Melal stepped into the center of the room, cutting off all future conversation. "I am here only because Slaten thinks you may be sympathetic to our cause."

"And what cause would that be?" Mantyos asked.

"Fulfilling the Legend, of course! Annihilating the Deathspawn once and for all!"

"Is that so?" Mantyos looked to Slaten, but the other man had receded into himself, as he often did. That left no one to stop Melal as he strode toward the couple.

"Somewhere in Portant, the Deathspawn are causing trouble. I am sure of it. They seek to uncover something, an artifact with which they will cause great suffering. I must find it before they do, and I cannot do so unless you help me."

The two exchanged a brief glance, then Olondris spoke slowly. "The Deathspawn had no foothold in Portant until recently. They spoke to the heads of state and requested permission to begin a large mining operation."

"That must be it." Melal slammed a fist into his palm and turned as if he intended to go right at that moment. "Just where is this mine?"

"I'm not so sure it could be that, son." Mantyos shook his head slowly. "The mine they seized is an ordinary one, mostly exhausted in generations past. They only accepted it because they don't control enough of Wahleen's ore. Enough for their soldiers, perhaps, but the mansthein cannot forge bloodsteel for their errants without the southern mines."

"What does that matter? Tell me where the mine is!"

"I'm afraid we can't. All I know is that the mine lies within the Regent's Forest, near Throne Portes. That forest is vast, and the average Portantese is not allowed inside. Too many would have objected if the Deathspawn had been allowed out in the country proper."

"Then all we need to do is search this forest. Surely they cannot hide their vile machinations." Melal paced back and forth between the smithy walls. "The Bloodskins can begin scouting. They should be able to do that, at least."

Olondris shook her head, stepping away from her husband and speaking with steel in her voice. "It is not that simple. The mansthein operation was officially permitted by Portant, and many of the profits go to humans in Wahleen. If anyone acts against it, that could be cause for war on the eastern b-"

"War is coming regardless of what we do." Melal waved her objection aside, but Olondris continued on without pause.

"Even if true, you underestimate the strength of the Deathspawn armies. In addition to the Catai, they possess many warriors of Ironlord or Steeljudge strength. You may have some formidable errants with you, but you cannot do battle against an army."

"That could actually work better, then." Melal turned to Slaten and grinned. "You've been training, right? Of course, you never do anything else. I need you and Laeri to train as hard as you can so that when we face the enemy, you can battle their strongest alongside me."

Slaten nodded wearily. "Can we make an effort to find Tani? She would be a great help to us."

"Tani will find her way here when it is the proper time. Besides, we are not leaving for many days, if this mine is truly so difficult to find. We will stay here and prepare while the Bloodskins find the location for us. In a hundred days you should be strong enough to do battle with a Catai!"

The warriors and Laeri continued to discuss their plans. Natala listened for only a short time before she decided that the discussion was entirely futile. Melal would do what he wanted, and he controlled the Bloodskins. Even though the others were aware of this, to varying degrees, they struggled to have some small impact on what would happen. Spilling countless hours of their lives just to make the Legend budge.

It struck her as irrational. When Mantyos left the argument to return to work on his sword, she took it as an opportunity to join him. The clanging of his hammer against the anvil formed a wall between them and the argument, forging a facsimile of peace.

Natala observed how Mantyos did his work, quickly grasping the basic principles. When he next needed to pump the bellows, she stepped beside them first. "Should I use these now?" Though she knew the answer, she waited for him to nod before she worked the device to feed air into the flame. He regarded her as he worked before eventually speaking in between strikes.

"You're welcome in our house, girl. The two of us have lived alone for too long."

"Thank you for making us welcome."

"I apologize if we keep you up at night." The grin delivered along with his apology made it less than sincere, but Natala merely smiled sweetly.

"I hope we haven't troubled you either. Slaten was rather eager last night."

Mantyos laughed, but briefly. He leaned forward onto his hammer, suddenly fully focused on her. "I don't think that's true."

"Why is that?" Natala kept her face in the same smile, immediately reconsidering what she knew of the old man. He was no fool, but was it possible that he was far more astute than she had believed? Yet when he stared at her, she saw only a hint of sadness, nothing that indicated he had pierced to the core of her.

"You want everyone to think they understand your relationship, but I've seen how you look at him. You trust him, but you don't desire him. I will jam this hammer up my own ass if the two of you are actually intimate."

Natala raised her eyebrows appreciatively. "And how did you reach such a conclusion?"

"Can't say. Just the feel of things." Mantyos returned to working at his anvil, though not with the casual air of before. "Your moans, now, I couldn't have told from those alone. But you can't fake a look of real affection, and you don't speak to him like you're tricking him. So I got to thinking that those noises were for our benefit."

As he spoke, Natala applied herself fully to every detail of the question. It would have been too much to hope that Mantyos could have told her exactly which muscles of her face had failed to simulate the proper emotion. His conclusion arose from intuition forged over a lifetime, not a set of discrete facts. She could still use his observation to arrive at useful conclusions.

Because she was certain that his statement was wrong: real affection could be faked, she simply needed to master herself better. There was no such thing as pure manipulation, it was always mediated through context. Her youth leading Bloodskin men had not prepared her for Slaten, and her improved efforts were still inadequate to an experienced eye. If she continued pinpointing such mistakes, however, she could eventually move beyond them.

Her thoughts flashed by, leaving her instead to consider Mantyos. His tone had been fatherly, as if concerned for her. It seemed that he suspected only her insincerity, nothing else. Despite the inconvenience, Natala found herself liking the old man and chose a response that would mend bridges.

"You sound much too familiar with such performances," she said. "Are the two of you slamming your bed against our wall every night only to convince us you're still young?"

That got a roar of laughter from Mantyos, this one not interrupted by any skepticism. He might have struck someone else on the back, but since their first encounter he had kept his distance, somehow picking up on some minuscule discomfort that she had failed to hide. She needed to absorb many lessons from this man.

Before their conversation could continue, another part of Natala's mind noted that the second conversation had shifted. Before that point, it had been arguments over plans and geographical details, nothing that required her true attention. But something Olondris said caught her ear.

"Even if you learn the patrols, you cannot predict the Zeitai."

Slaten's head rose as well. "Which Zeitai? Where?"

"I know only that Zeitai Kreue usually stays at Castle Wahles, but has been known to travel randomly. Given the importance of the mine, it is not impossible that he would supervise the work. If so, your plan would be doomed before it even began."

"Don't be absurd." Melal set a hand on the hilt of his sword, the muscles of his arm twitching as if he wished to draw it. "I am fated to kill the Zeitai. If one of them sets himself in my path now, that will only save me the trouble of chasing him down and ending his miserable life."

"No." Olondris spoke with a flat certainty that made even Melal take a step back. "Attempting to fight the Zeitai would be suicide. You would die before you drew your sword, and if you did manage that, it would only go worse for you."

Though Melal muttered something about faith in the Legend, Natala saw a hint of real emotion in his eyes. Not grandiose self-importance, but human fear. She wondered if he remembered the battle of Bundlin that Slaten had described, where the Zeitai had taught everyone the terror that Bloodskin men only feebly imitated. Another reminder that there was nothing that could not be torn apart by sufficient power.

The harsh response from Olondris quieted everyone except Slaten, who sat forward. "You have met Zeitai Kreue yourself?"

"No, but it is only a matter of logic." Olondris turned away from them to sit in a chair nearer the anvil, her expression now more tired than flat. "Some believe that some nations are wholly weaker than others, but I have never known the world to work that way. If the strongest in one land were pathetic in another, their land would not endure. So if the Zeitai stand above the other Deathspawn, they must be the equal of Steelmasters. And none of you are remotely prepared for such a battle."

With the others quieted and Melal stalking away, the conversation was clearly over. They might have won a few concessions, but Melal would soon do exactly as they planned. The only question, then, was how long they would have to prepare. Though Natala considered attempting to leave before the greater danger struck, she still lacked the capacity to survive on her own.

Natala left through the back door of the smithy and leaned against the wall in the small garden. It was not long before Slaten came to stand beside her. He looked as though he wanted to be alone with his thoughts, but Natala had too many of her own.

"Mantyos knows we aren't together. There's no need to pretend."

"Ah." Slaten observed her with that dark gaze of his. "How did he know?"

"I wish I could give you a precise answer to that." Natala smiled to soften what she was about to ask. "Did you really believe him when he made that claim about his wife?"

"I saw her reaction," Slaten said hastily, as if to ward off her scorn. "But it could be interpreted multiple ways, and we still know little of northern culture. I did not want to assume they shared the same values as we do and thus cause offense."

Her smile became authentic and she shook her head. "Slaten... that requires mental contortions that are extreme even for you. Sometimes things are exactly what they appear to be. I would argue that they are far more likely to be that obvious, and considering unlikely alternatives will usually just waste your time."

"Perhaps. Thank you for turning the mockery away from me."

"If you want to thank me, keep Melal from bringing the most powerful warriors in the nation down on our heads."

"That, I cannot promise."

A true response, which she could accept. They remained in the garden with their thoughts.

Chapter 30

-

"A carved set for a noble Seinan family:

* Dark Lord statue with rubies for eyes

* Dark Mother statue, painted eyes

* Zeitai Teirsan statue

* Zeitai Xetsu statue

* Zeitai Sepultus statue

* NO Zeitai Kreue statue

* NO Zeitai Terza statue"

- order of a shrine stonemason

-

The sun hung just behind them, a molten furnace reforging the world. As Celivia trudged through the sands, she wondered if she had ever felt such heat. She remembered sweltering summers in Ith Silvaros, but that had been when she was only partially trained in sein. Now she possessed a far stronger body, yet the heat felt just as intense.

She had expected the nation of Baelen to be hot, but it far exceeded her expectations. Worse, the sun seemed to reflect from all the dunes at once, trapping her in a prison of heat. This should have been the easy step in their journey, yet Unila had left them on this miserable path. Apparently bringing a message to the Zeitai's staff and finding the Zeitai himself were more separate than she had hoped.

"Not much further, Celi!" Reina smiled encouragingly from beside her, then returned to shielding her eyes with one hand. "I can see some sort of monastery ahead. That must be it."

Celivia only nodded. Reina appeared mostly unaffected by the heat, which made the sandy sweat grinding its way all over Celivia's body all the more miserable. As Reina ran ahead to look from the top of a rise, Celivia envied her short, slender frame. It seemed to easily shed heat where Celivia hoarded it, reversing their usual struggles with temperature.

Of course, if Reina needed to enter seinrage, the combined heat could cook her body from the inside. Celivia set her jaw and resolved not to complain.

In any case, seinrage or even any sort of fight was unlikely. They traveled from the closest thing to a military outpost in the Baelen deserts to find a remote monastery. According to their contacts, Zeitai Xetsu had taken the entire Eleventh Trathan Legion to quell a single sect of warriors that had been a thorn in his side. Rumor had it that he was interested in fighting their masters, and no one had seemed to find it troubling that the Zeitai commanded the movement of entire legions simply to entertain himself.

"I can see the legion now!" Reina looked back from the ridge and waved cheerfully. "Come on, Celi, we can sprint the rest of the way!"

Though her body groaned in protest, Celivia made herself run. She had hoped that the wind rushing past might cool her down, yet it felt like running into a furnace. Only when Celivia pushed herself as fast as she could did she finally feel a cool current around her.

When she reached the ridge she leapt off the side, arcing through the air toward the next dune. Reina gasped and rushed to match her pace, leaving both of them sailing through the air for a peaceful moment. When Celivia landed, the sandy path gave her feet less purchase than she'd hoped, and she tumbled heels over head before managing to land on her feet.

Beside her, Reina hit the ground and flipped several times before hopping back to her feet, unharmed. She simply laughed and then sprinted onward. Celivia smiled and gave chase.

Soon the legion became impossible to miss, sprawling across the sands and completely swarming the monastery. In theory it was composed of an even 6561 mansthein, though in practice the numbers rarely came out so neatly and she imagined that Xetsu was even less organized than most. The vast crowds were certainly far beyond her ability to reliably estimate.

When they reached the edge of the camp, no guards stopped them. Perhaps it was lax discipline, but the camp did stand in the middle of a hostile desert within a nation that had been mostly devastated. She saw a few signs of organization, designated latrines and eating areas, but otherwise the camp was complete chaos, as if bands had simply been thrown into a pile until they formed a legion.

No one seemed to notice them at all. Most of the soldiers around her got on with the business of the campaign, but when she looked far enough, she saw more. Soldiers not only tested their strength against one another, they drew blood in circles of cheering crowds. Several times she saw men and women coupling in the open, mostly ignored except for the occasional jeer. The camp overflowed with exultant chaos.

What most stuck out to her was that she saw both women and men in large numbers, confirming what she had heard about Xetsu's legions caring for nothing but strength. As they drove deeper into the camp, they saw more than a few female Towd Catai, each one briefly making Celivia wonder if she had spotted Ghalia. She didn't see any female Catai who hadn't taken the Towd form, but they would be more difficult to spot in any case.

No humans, however. Not so much as a single servant or indentured warrior.

"This is madness, but I think I could grow to love it." Reina started at a whisper, but had to raise her voice to be heard over the camp around them. "It's just like Ghalia always said. Here I would be just another warrior."

"Are you sure?" Celivia asked. "I haven't seen any Bersk."

"No, but did you notice how everyone treated me at the outpost? Exactly like everyone else. Here, no one cares who you are."

Celivia smiled at the other woman, but her mind remained focused on their target. "Amid all the tents, I've lost track of the monastery. Do you think it's at the center?"

"I have no idea where the center is, but I doubt it. From afar, it looked like there were at least two larger buildings. One might be the Zeitai's war tent and one of them has to be the monastery. Where do you think Ghalia is?"

"That's impossible to say. Should we split up and check both?"

"Okay, but don't take too long." Reina gave her a brief hug and headed northeast, toward a larger cluster of tents. She really must feel comfortable in the camp, if she was willing to split up. Celivia took a separate path, leading her toward what she hoped was the human monastery. Though she tried to keep a mental picture of her progress in her head, the camp required her to detour multiple times.

She soon discovered that she was correct in her path, though not necessarily in her destination. The tents gave way before a broad, flat building, a ring of empty sands around it as if the building itself gave off pressure. It was a circular building with angled beams supporting the roof, each beam carved like flames and the underside of the roof plated with reflective metal, as if the building itself radiated fire.

Here, there was no disorder. Celivia's eyes a ring of soldiers, including many warriors and a few Catai. They slouched or reclined around the ring of sand, but they watched. Anyone who attempted to leave the monastery would immediately be noticed and struck from multiple sides.

Apparently, the same applied to those approaching from the other direction. Before Celivia could draw close, a lean Seinan warrior stepped from a tent into her path.

"Only those with permission can approach the monastery, Nin. We can't have everyone crowding the demonstration."

"Demonstration?"

"Xetsu brokered a challenge the humans finally accepted." The man eyed her thoughtfully. "If you don't know, you're obviously not with the legion. Whatever your business, we can't let you in."

"I have no business here, only with someone from among your ranks. A Catainan Ghalia should be serving in this legion, though I don't know her current position. Would it be possible for you to locate her?"

"Perhaps." The man turned away and kicked at a soldier beside the tent who lay back with his face shielded by a broad hat. After grumbling, the man pulled away the hat, then made them repeat the conversation. He sighed, then promptly vanished, leaving a depression where he'd been lying, sand tumbling down into a new valley.

That meant he was either a Voidwalker out of uniform, or a warrior with the same mastery. Either seemed equally likely, in Xetsu's legions. Celivia wanted to ask questions, but the Seinan warrior directed her to sit down out of his way. Someone later brought her a drink of something that tasted like a kick to the teeth, but otherwise they were happy to ignore her.

Celivia drank her kick to the teeth and considered what she had seen. Though Xetsu's legions might be equitable enough, they lived on war and bloodshed. She could not claim to know the Zeitai, having seen him so briefly in Bundlin, but she doubted that he would welcome peace. What he sought was not dominance, but the fight itself.

Once, she might have considered him a potential ally, against the old forces embodied in the Senate and the core mansthein legions. Now she found herself thinking about the untold misery he intended to bring upon any humans who amused him. Even if in some fantasy he would listen to her, he would not hear the spirit of her words.

For now, it was the least of her concerns. Zeitai Kreue was a threat to everyone, mansthein and human, and spread a cruelty worse than war. For a little longer, it was easy to think of the humans she had come to know, simple to pretend at ideals of embracing the best on both sides. But if the two of them truly came into conflict...

She had found no answers when she heard muttering around her. When she rose, she discovered that the Seinan man was already approaching. Instead of saying anything, he just gestured toward the monastery.

Ghalia trotted out across the sands, her massive form the only sight in the desolation. Though at first she looked simply annoyed, when she spotted Celivia, she gave a broad wave and a shout.

"Celi! Let her in, assholes, she's with me!"

The Seinan man simply shrugged and went back to his post. Apparently, that was all it took. Celivia headed out into the empty zone, prepared for some manner of barrier, but it appeared to be nothing but a perimeter. When she reached Ghalia, her old friend tugged her off the ground in a death squeeze of a hug.

"What the hell are you doing out here, Celi?"

"Looking for you, Ghali. I need-"

"We'll have time to discuss that later over a drink! You need to come with me." As Ghalia turned back around to the monastery, she dragged Celivia along with her. "Glad as I am to see you, I'm not giving up one of my few chances to see Xetsu fight. That alone will be worth going across the world, believe me."

"Zeitainan Xetsu is going to fight someone?"

"There's no need for the title - he doesn't give a shit. But yeah, he's gonna fight. There's a deal with the humans here, you see? Organized fights instead of open war. If they win, a bunch of the weakling humans get to go free. If they die well, some of them go free. If they put up a shitty fight, the ones they wanted to protect get executed - keeps 'em motivated!"

As Ghalia explained the terms of the fights, Celivia wondered how that changed her evaluation of the Zeitai. His agreement did amount to sparing noncombatants, yet she doubted that had ever been the goal. She learned that the fights had been going on for some time, but that today was special because Xetsu himself attended only occasionally and fought even more rarely.

They rushed through the halls of the monastery too quickly for Celivia to appreciate them. More circular flame patterns, many cracked and some lying broken. Whatever respect the legion had for the warriors of the monastery clearly did not extend to the building itself.

"Shit, we're almost too late!" Ghalia grabbed her arm and pulled Celivia off her feet to tug her into a side corridor. As they traveled through a dark passage, the roar of a vast crowd tumbled over them until they suddenly emerged into blinding sunlight. The oppressive sun overhead was joined by the heat of hundreds of bodies.

As her pupils contracted against the sun, Celivia slowly identified that they stood in the center of the monastery. The reason it was such a broad building was that the entire center had been hollowed out to form a grand combat arena. Mansthein shouted from across the stands that circled the arena, yet it had room for many more. She realized that the building itself was merely a ring, a container for the true heart of the monastery.

At the center lay an enormous plate of stone, half her height and many paces across. It gave the illusion of having been ripped from the earth as one solid rock, yet the circle consisted of three large pieces of stone - one white, one red, and one black - that pushed into one another. As near as she could tell, there was absolutely no gap where the pieces met.

Despite Ghalia's claims that they were too late, to Celivia it appeared that the true matches had yet to start. Several fighters competed with humans atop the stone, but few paid them any mind. Celivia focused mostly on the humans, all of whom wore loose robes in sandy colors. Some won, some lost, and the crowds clearly waited for something more.

"Sit here!"

Ghalia grabbed Celivia's shoulder and pushed her down onto a bench near the front. Several others moved to give them more space or nodded to them, as it seemed Ghalia had some respect here. From her position, Celivia had an excellent vantage point on the arena.

"This place is called the House of the Setting Sun," Ghalia explained, half-shouting to be heard over the din. "They were one of the most powerful human sects in the entire nation, with three branches. Some of them are slippery bastards, let me tell you."

"Three for the three colors in the stone?"

"Ha, got it in one! The ones you see now are weaklings who hadn't been allowed into any one of the three branches, but some of the others were tough. The Black Sun fought us all the way to the bitter end, and Xetsu lost half of the Fifteenth legion against them. The White Sun struggled long and hard, but they saw reason in the end. Xetsu fought their master and liked the fight so much that he let the others go."

"Then... the Red Sun remains?"

"Today is the day." Ghalia sat forward, eyeing the arena below hungrily. "Apparently their master thought fighting 'Deathspawn' was beneath his dignity and tried to leave. I wasn't part of that, but they somehow dragged him back. Now we'll see what he can do against Xetsu."

Though she didn't use a title, when Ghalia said the Zeitai's name, it carried a strange reverence. After that, the other woman went silent, stewing in her anticipation. Celivia observed the fights to learn what she could, but the apprentice warriors were similar to those the world over, with limited control of their sein and only a few blunt arts.

Then the fights trickled away and the crowd fell silent. The bodies left the arena, though no one bothered to clean up the blood they left behind. Unfamiliar with the conventions, Celivia still knew exactly what would occur by following the heads of the audience as they turned toward an entrance built into the side of the arena wall.

Humans wearing red robes walked from it in two lines, their hands clasped together within their sleeves. Nothing but honor bound them, though she saw a few who stared at the audience nervously. That audience began to stomp and strike their hands against fists or benches. The ominous heartbeat was a gesture of respect, though she wasn't sure if they knew that.

After a dozen warriors walked a man who stood alone instead of following their lines. Though thin, his robes stretched tightly over his body, and the back of his robe was emblazoned with the wheel symbol found on the central stone. Undoubtedly the Master of the Red Sun.

When they reached the arena, the humans neatly split in two directions, jumping to the stone and forming two curving lines along the edge. Their master leapt between them and padded forward, stopping in the center of the red third of the stone. As he did so, the crowd quieted.

"My name is Yeraen, Master of the Red Sun," the man called out sharply over the silence. "Your miserable leader has forced me here against my will, but I will fight for the honor of the Red Sun. Even if it is against a brute with no art and no honor."

Jeers rang down from the stands while Celivia merely watched. Unlike some of the lesser warriors with him, Yeraen did not appear even slightly afraid. She could not determine his strength while he simply stood at a distance, but he carried himself with the absolute confidence of a master. To her inner eye, he was a tightly controlled flame, though not an appropriately red one.

Then Xetsu emerged from the opposite side of the arena and the crowd went berserk. Even Ghalia gripped the rail in front of her so tightly that the stone began to crack. The Zeitai himself appeared completely unchanged, still a suit of dark blue armor that would tower over a Catai. He did not carry his staff, but instead a strange contraption of wood and glass. As he entered, he raised his free hand to the crowd, yet he did not seem to even hear their cheers.

When he stepped up onto the arena in a single smooth step, several of the humans flinched. Xetsu strode out to the center, then his raised hand clenched into a fist. Instant silence. When he spoke, his voice shook something deep within Celivia.

"Master Yeraen, well met. I am Zeitai Xetsu, the Bloody Pantomime. I understand that you have some concerns about this fight."

"This is a farce of-" Xetsu's voice rolled over the master's attempt to sneer like an earthquake.

"You may be accustomed to fighting bodies that are... softer than mine." As he spoke, ignoring the laughs from the audience, Xetsu raised the strange object over his head. "Accordingly, we will fight by the rules of your own monastery. When one of us falls, their sand will fall as well. When one of our glasses is emptied, its owner will lose, no matter what injuries he has sustained."

"And you expect me to trust you to judge the sands fairly?"

"Let your apprentices do it." Xetsu set down the contraption and slid it across the arena with an easy flick of his hand. "I trust that they will tell no lies."

As the lesser warriors of the Red Sun set up the device properly, Celivia understood its purpose. When upright, it was obvious that it was a wood frame around two large hourglasses. Wooden slats in the center allowed for the space between the sand and the empty bulb to be closed or opened at will. The apprentices let the sands settle, then closed the gaps and turned the device on its head.

While they did so, Xetsu and Yeraen took their places in the center of the arena. The human master stretched his arms around his head in slow arching movements that showed remarkable flexibility. Xetsu stood silent, indistinguishable from a statue.

"The sands..." One of the apprentices tried to speak, his voice coming out weak. After swallowing, he tried again. "The sands are set! The match will not end until one glass is emptied!"

A cheer went up and was brutally decapitated as the two combatants struck.

Though Celivia was accustomed to exchanges being decided in the space of a heartbeat, she was still astonished by how quickly they moved. Without her recently expanded awareness of sein, they might have been nothing but colored blurs. Even now, she struggled just to understand the flow of the combat.

The human master flowed like water, raining down palm strikes so rapidly that they seemed to arrive almost at once. Though Xetsu struck back with brutal speed, his movements looked clumsy next to the spinning robes. When he thrust out a hand, his opponent not only dodged, but dealt several quick strikes to his arm before he pulled it back.

Then Yeraen hit the floor, mouth covered in blood, and Celivia struggled to reconstruct the movements that had occurred.

Obviously the rapid strikes had done very little against Xetsu's armored body and he had taken advantage of that. Celivia suspected that one of his apparently crude movements had smoothly flowed into a backhand, but she wasn't sure if she had really seen it, or if she had simply been imagining it.

One of the hourglasses had been opened and the sand poured down as Yeraen slowly pulled himself up, more stunned than injured. Xetsu stood nearby and folded his arms. "If you want to win, you do have to hit hard enough to knock me over."

As the crowds jeered, Celivia felt a strange stab of bitterness. How many of those watching could have stood up to the human master? She certainly knew that she couldn't. His strikes appeared light against Xetsu, yet she was sure that they would have shattered her bones. And that speed... her neck would be broken before she knew the fight began.

Yeraen pulled himself back to his feet and the sands stopped falling. When he leapt off the ground, the two warriors again became a maelstrom of movement.

Though the human fought more fiercely, kicking as well as striking, Xetsu reacted in kind. He stood like a mountain against a hurricane, raising his forearms or knees to resist the blows. As they rained down, he seemed to simply endure the assault, then without warning he snapped a fist out.

This time, Yeraen twisted around it. The blow still struck a glancing blow to his side, but his foot impacted Xetsu's torso, sending him rocking back two steps.

It left no impact, yet many gasped. Yeraen fell to the ground from the glancing blow, though he quickly pulled himself up again. Celivia thought that his students were rather generous with how briefly they let the sands fall from his hourglass, but he had still lost just over half the sand in his glass.

"You are nothing but an ignorant beast." The human master snapped out the words arrogantly as he stalked to the side, watching his opponent. "This is not sein, merely the claws of an animal. You may overpower many opponents, but in the end you will be put down."

"Then do it." The pits of Xetsu's eyes glowed a brilliant green, and though his armor-like face was difficult to read, Celivia thought she saw anticipation there.

"You will see exactly that. It is time for you to face the Crimson Sunset." Though Yeraen spoke confidently, Celivia abruptly realized something: he was talking solely to purchase time. From the moment he'd pushed off the ground, he had been gathering himself, collecting his sein in a different way than before.

If she could see, then surely Xetsu must have known as well. Yet he simply waited until his opponent unleashed a devastating flurry.

This time Xetsu rocked back from each slapping fist. Just the wind from the blows tore new holes in the ragged cloths on his armor. He made no attempts to strike back this time, simply guarding and giving up ground every time a kick lashed out at his leg.

Then he lunged, and Yeraen struck at the same moment. The human master stepped aside from the strike and landed both palms on his opponent's chest.

Everyone held their breath as Xetsu arced back through the air and struck the stone slab with a deafening smash.

Landing on his back, Xetsu lay still for an echoing heartbeat, then he put his arms behind his head. He remained completely motionless as the sand in his hourglass fell away. Celivia found herself looking between his prone form and the remaining sand, the arena completely silent. Was he throwing the match? A token of esteem for the opponent who had landed such a blow on him?

With a few grains remaining, Xetsu smashed both fists into the arena. His blows cracked the stone and propelled him back to his feet, looming over his opponent like a mountain come to life.

The human master took a step backwards, then it was too late.

When Xetsu struck, no trace remained of his brutal strikes and broad movements. He flowed just as Yeraen had, except Xetsu had become a waterfall. Their arms blurred together for only several movements before Yeraen took a step back, then suddenly a palm hit his side. Even as he flinched back, another blow landed, then another.

A roar rose up around the arena as the mansthein realized that Xetsu was not only faster, but more agile. Though Yeraen fought back more intensely than ever before, blow after blow connected with his body. Soon one arm hung limply at his side and he put everything he had into his remaining palm, thrusting out with desperate strength.

Xetsu met his palm with a headbutt. The crack of the man's arm sounded through the arena, then he collapsed to the ground.

Sand began to fall again in the human master's glass, but it no longer mattered. All eyes fell on Xetsu as he stepped over his defeated opponent and put one foot on his chest. He bent closer and spoke in a soft rumble, forcing the crowds to strain to listen.

"You fought well. I will leave you, your students, and your monastery in peace... if you do one thing for me." Xetsu leaned closer, yet didn't put fatal pressure on his opponent's body. "You will admit, in front of your students, that you were wrong when you called me a brute. You will tell them that the House of the Setting Sun is no grand tradition of beauty, but merely violence wearing different clothing."

"Never." Yeraen might have been nearly defeated, but his body still burned with more sein than Celivia could muster. He struck out at Xetsu's leg, his blow failing to budge the heavy armor.

"Very well." Xetsu rose and flicked a finger toward the students. Celivia wasn't sure if she saw a grain of sand fly out, but there was a spurt of blood and one of the students' bodies snapped backward and fell off the side. "If you do not accept, I will kill your students one by one."

"You... are a monster..."

"Perhaps." Another student collapsed. "But you are the one who doesn't care about their lives. Just admit one little thing. Tell them that your Crimson Sunset is little more than a good way of punching someone."

Yeraen gritted bloody teeth. "You... you may take our lives..." Another flick, another fallen student. "But our dignity..."

Xetsu sighed and flicked his hand rapidly, sending three more students spilling over the side, limp bodies nearly folding up. "Your dignity is worth their lives, then? That is your choice. Your students will die, your monastery will burn to the ground, and everyone you ever love will die in agony... or you can admit that the Red Sun is nothing special."

"Never..." Yeraen choked out the word, futilely gripping the foot on his chest. Xetsu began sending the remaining students falling from the side, but the human master only spat blood at him. "We will never submit t-"

A sickening sound cracked over the arena as Xetsu stomped through the human's chest. Many of the mansthein cheered, but Celivia only shifted in her seat uncomfortably. Then, as she watched, Xetsu casually walked to the side of the arena where all the students lay.

"So, what did you think?"

All at once she realized the truth. She had been riveted to the scene between the two masters and only now saw that every one of the students was still alive. Though all lay stunned and a few bled, none of them had even been seriously wounded. As Xetsu stepped to the very edge of the stone, gazing down at him, they stared back involuntarily.

"Your master had a noble death, did he not? Are you proud that he decided that the honor of his school was worth all of your deaths? You have the rest of your lives to decide."

Xetsu shattered the hourglasses with a single kick and then left the arena without looking to the side. Though the crowd erupted in cheers far more raucous than before, this time he did not acknowledge them at all, simply disappearing into the shadows.

"Can you fucking believe it?" Ghalia wrapped one arm around Celivia's neck and pumped her other fist into the air. "That's Xetsu for you! That's why he's a fucking Zeitai!"

"He was certainly impressive." Celivia felt a growing ache spreading from her eyes through the rest of her head, as if just watching the struggle had fatigued her. What Xetsu had done, more than she had known was possible, was to make his strength an expression of what he believed. The problem was that, as powerfully as it had been expressed, she still wasn't sure what it was.

"That's why you need to join my legion!" Flush with spirit from the fight, Ghalia began dragging her from the arena. "This is the future, Celi! Here we can rise through the ranks until we fight directly underneath him. To see strength like that has to awaken something in you... can you imagine anything greater than fighting alongside Xetsu?"

"Not everyone wants the same things, Ghalia."

"Bah." The Catai ruffled her hair with a grin. "You have too many ideals and not enough ambition."

As they left, Celivia looked back into the arena one final time. Her friend was wrong. The battle had awoken something in her, but it was not the desire to serve Zeitai Xetsu.

She wanted to fight him.

Chapter 31

-

"Fsina let her sein flow through the egg, trying with all her heart and soul, yet the egg lay dormant. Around her, she saw the other candidates hatching their eggs into wondrous birds. When the day came for all to present their eggs to the Zeitai, she carried her dead egg sadly, surrounded by beautiful feathers."

- Laenan version of The Zeitai's Egg

-

Sparring with Olondris wasn't about trying to win, it was seeing how long he could hold on. Slaten had never fought anyone who could attack so relentlessly, as normally even trained warriors would need to take a moment to catch their breath or gather their sein again. Olondris seemed utterly inexhaustible, her last strike coming just as quickly and heavily as the first.

That day she struck unusually aggressively, yet she attempted fewer crippling blows. Instead she pressed him hard and then struck at his feet, as if trying to cause a leg injury. When she wasn't attempting that, she struck at his blade with enough force that she could power through his attempts to block.

His body ached in entirely novel ways, yet all he could do was maintain an increasingly difficult defense. When he tried to reach for his sein, it seemed to splutter through his body. Memories of practicing his core techniques over and over again simply fragmented within him instead of reaching his limbs.

He faltered too much and a silver line of pain cut through his stomach.

Slaten stumbled back, clutching his torso. It felt as though it had been torn open, yet the cut seemed to stop just short of that. Agony still shot through his body, making it difficult to stay on his feet.

"Hm." Olondris leaned closer and examined the injury.

"Is that... what you wanted?"

"Yes. Very good." She straightened up and turned away. "Rest for now. If the injury becomes infected, make sure that the girl looks at it. But I do not think that will be a problem."

Letting go of his sword, Slaten just sat and tried not to breathe too deeply, since the gut injury lay open to the world. He should have been disabled from the pain, yet he found there was surprisingly little, fading as his sein resumed its normal flow. The arts he had learned from the Bloodskin clan made him nearly as durable as them, and he suspected that Olondris had been testing exactly that.

"I have reached my conclusion." The warrior - he had trouble thinking of her as an old woman - leaned on her pike as she gazed down at him unblinkingly. "But first, one more question. Do you have regular pain in your elbows or knees?"

"Not unless I was injured there."

"As I thought. Normally those pains will inhibit even a skilled fighter, but you displayed no particular weaknesses even when pressed."

"And cutting open my stomach?"

Olondris shrugged. "That was merely to let you test your healing without the girl rushing in to fix you. Healers are essential, but relying on them can be unwise."

He nodded, as if cutting open his stomach was a reasonable thing to do. Though he had spoken remarkably little with Olondris, given how long they'd trained together, he'd come to trust her. She injured him more frequently than Veron ever had, yet with less malice. Cold as her behavior was, her every action had a purpose, and he believed that purpose was ultimately benevolent.

"I have traveled across all of the Maenhu, from the desert to the most frozen of groves. In my time, I've even trained on the Bienal and Chilgaan Islands. And yet I find that I have not traveled so far after all." Olondris leaned further, her gray eyes for once holding a spark. "I realize now that I have heard of other paths, but dismissed them as inferior. Yours is not, for your age. So I would tell you a simple tale, one fit for children, and I would have you tell me where it surprises you."

"I think I understand." Perhaps his body was healing or perhaps he was drawn by her intense focus, but he barely thought about his injury at all.

"Youths who wish to become warriors are separated from others and trained in sein alone. They sit for many days in darkened rooms, leaving their bodies completely still. Only when they start to gain understanding and become Ironsquires are they allowed to touch a weapon."

"That is certainly not how the warriors of my people begin their training. But what about soldiers? Not all will master sein."

"They receive drilling, not training." Olondris shook her head just slightly, but she might as well have spat on the ground. "Once young warriors truly understand their sein with two senses, they become Ironlords and are allowed to bear arms and armor. Their training focuses solely on fully understanding themselves until they master five senses and become Steeljudges."

Slaten had suspected as much, yet still found himself surprised to hear it. "How do you train the sein alone without training the body?" She continued as if he hadn't spoken.

"Steeljudges have mastered their sein and instead reshape their bodies. It begins with simple strength, but in time their aging slows. Heat and cold do not touch them, and they can travel the highest peaks without drawing short of breath. Only once they have attained perfect bodies do they move beyond. To refine the soul itself is the domain of the Steelmasters alone."

"Refining the soul? What does that mean?"

"I do not know." To his surprise, Olondris sat down in front of him with her pike across her lap, abruptly more relaxed than he'd ever seen her, except with her husband. "When I fought more actively, I was a Greater Steeljudge. I am perhaps a Peak Steeljudge now, but I cannot claim to be a Steelmaster."

"I may be weaker than you, but I have taken a different path." Slaten took a deep breath, considering what he could say that would not simply repeat what she already knew. "Perhaps it is only coincidence, but the Oken also speak of body, sein, and soul. I cannot speak to the soul, but the others are always trained together."

"I would have said that was an inefficient path, but now I can see weaknesses in our ways. If you were a Portantese errant, your joints would ache every night, because your body strained to cope with the forces your sein placed upon it."

"And the weaknesses in my path?"

"From my perspective, you are quickly exhausted for a warrior of your skill. You should be overflowing with sein, yet you struggle to maintain everything within yourself. So though they ranked you a Greater Ironlord, this is not accurate. According to the Wooden Judge, you would remain an Ironlord for unusually long, then suddenly become a powerful Steeljudge."

"I suspect that you have a different way to judge those ranks?"

"Yes, but it is a more elaborate process, and irrelevant to us now." Olondris balanced her pike and sat back, folding her arms thoughtfully. "Another piece of the puzzle is the raiding clans, which for some time baffled me. I now believe that they are like our mirrored counterparts: they begin training focusing solely on the body instead of the sein. Of course, they cannot help but master some sein, just as errants cannot help but become physically able through their training."

Slaten found himself smiling as he considered it. "So throughout the world, different cultures take different approaches. I believe that all peoples on the Chorhan Expanse take a balanced approach. In the mountains they focus on the body, in the north you focus on the sein... do you think there is any place where they begin with the soul?"

For the first time, Olondris truly smiled at him. "I do not know, but I asked myself the same question."

"This makes me think of the mansthein and the Catai. I wonder if it is not a similar trick, a method of quickly granting sein-trained warriors great physical strength as well. Or to use your language, they grant an Ironlord the strength and durability of a Steeljudge."

"The mansthein are not human, so who can say?" She regarded him somberly and he realized that in his excitement, he had failed to call them Deathspawn. Another person might have asked him why, or asked about the Hero, yet Olondris simply regarded him quietly. "If I could train one of them as I have you, perhaps I could learn more. For now, it would be mere guesswork."

"Were you training me simply to answer your question?" Slaten asked. Back in his home, he should have asked the question indirectly, with much bowing and complimenting. Since he had failed to be that for so long, he decided to waste no time, and she did not seem offended.

"No. I have enjoyed our time together, Slaten, and Mantyos likes you as well. If life had been different..." She shrugged, her eyes leaving the training yard to something else he dare not ask. In time she returned to her usual gray focus. "Now that I understand the oddities of your development, I believe I will be able to assist you better. It will be an interesting challenge."

"It may be less than a hundred days before Melal takes us into battle. Do you think that I could become strong enough to defeat a Catai alone in that time?"

Olondris snorted and rose to her feet in one fluid motion. "The fact that you ask that question is proof that you are not ready."

Though she spoke sharply, Slaten simply pondered what she had said. Olondris could appear cruel at times, yet she never spoke to harm. His question must have betrayed some fundamental misunderstanding, then, but he could not puzzle out what it was.

Instead he painfully made his way to his feet and back to the smithy, where he found both Laeri and Mantyos. While Olondris kissed her husband over the anvil, her hand on top of the hot blade, Slaten simply staggered to one of the seats. There Laeri rushed to gasp over his injury and shake her head. Her healing was welcome, though he was surprised how little she needed to do. Perhaps the Bloodskin arts were no stunted barbarian technique, but a valid path upward.

After his wife vanished to the second floor, likely not to be seen again for the rest of the day, Mantyos turned back to him and picked up his current sword cheerfully. He didn't fear the hot metal either and Slaten found himself wishing he could master that technique. The art that slowed their aging might be useful as well, but currently he was more concerned about surviving the year, not for decades.

"I've been experimenting with that image you drew me!" As Mantyos waved the sword about, Slaten realized that it looked something like an Oken blade. "At times I can almost understand the appeal, but it's such a strange, heavy weapon."

"The ideal is that an Oken blade is a sword for all warriors," Slaten explained. "It can cut, thrust, and chop with equal efficacy."

"Equal limited efficacy." Mantyos shook his head, no longer concerned about causing offense. "There is something to be said for generalist weapons, and I suppose that sein makes up for the awkwardness of the design. But warriors have so many other arts that can fill other roles, better to choose a weapon with focus."

"And that is your version?"

"If you would test it out for me, yes. I took some inspiration from falchions, but Olondris can tell you that my little trials do not always work out so well! At least try this for me and see how it feels."

"Don't move!" Laeri snapped and kept him seated. "You may think you're all big and strong, but deep injuries can be serious, even for trained warriors."

He accepted that Laeri was correct and waited for her to finish healing his stomach. That took some time, and he considered asking Mantyos about unique forms of steel again. It occurred to him that he should ask about the voidlink that still lay hidden with his things and the strange silver metal that they had found beneath Ith Ire. Yet he said nothing, part of him reluctant to bring it up for reasons he couldn't explain even to himself.

Once the healing was complete, Slaten cleaned himself off and switched his simple tunic for his shirt and a makeshift mantle. By the time he was dressed, Mantyos had completed the blade and attached a crude pommel. None of that was exactly proper, but the smith seemed so eager to test that Slaten accepted it.

As he walked out to the street, he tested how the blade felt in his hand. He expected the heft of an Oken blade, but in recent years he had used so many different swords that it was not difficult to adjust. Once out in the street, he prepared to swing it properly.

And instead froze.

~ ~ ~

Being able to run again had briefly elated Tani, but the faster she moved, the more aware she became that she didn't know where she was going. Though the Espalese errants had many negative things to say about Portant, even they admitted that the nation was mostly safe when not at war. The problem was that wandering into safety with no way to find the others would be just as bad.

As much as she had appreciated the errants allowing her to travel with them, she hadn't appreciated it enough. She had a little money from various trading points, but not enough to last her long. If worst came to worst, she could try to hunt, but given how little she knew about the land, even if she was successful, she might end up killing someone's livestock.

The growing cold intertwined with the isolation rising within her. She had never clung to the Nelee, carrying her tribe within her, but she found that she needed them more than she had realized. During her Farwalk, she had been buoyed by many different friendships, and even in the north she had enjoyed the company of the errants. Alone, she longed to ward off the cold with relationship.

When she finally stumbled into a town, she had barely been thinking. Her feet hurt, her head spun, and she just wanted to sleep. There had been no dreams to lead her back and she was tired of waiting for them. As she took each step, her only goal was to find somewhere to rest.

Then she saw Slaten, standing in the middle of the street, holding a strange sword as if no time at all had passed.

She launched herself into a reckless sprint. Her momentum should have knocked him over, yet somehow he caught her when she leapt at him. Normally she would have avoided embracing men, but she didn't care, she just hugged him as if she could squeeze companionship from him. Though Slaten still looked stunned, the way he embraced her back meant so much.

When he finally set her down, they just stared at each other for a warm pause. Tani was trying to avoid crying, so Slaten spoke first. "You found us."

"I... I guess I did. I'm not sure how, but it must have been Melal." She cursed herself for bringing him up during what should have been a joyous reunion, but it was too late. "Is he doing something?"

"We haven't seen him in some time, because he went to help scout our next target." Slaten didn't seem troubled, smiling more broadly than she usually saw. "It's been half a year... no, more. What have you done since we parted?"

As Slaten led her back inside, Tani told him everything, from Veron to the Steelbones to the Espalese errants. She didn't waste any time with her foolish hopes for Mohuno, only mentioning him as the raider he'd revealed himself to be. In return, Slaten told her all that had happened to the rest of the group, and though his brief style left her with many questions, it was a relief just to hear the familiar voice.

The couple he mentioned owned the house did not appear to be home, but Slaten served her a drink he called fhoka. Bitter as it was, she enjoyed it, consuming an entire cup and asking for another. Unfortunately, the elation between them faded as he returned to speaking of the Sage of Mount Tmil, this time going into greater detail about the entire encounter.

When he finished, Tani drank in silence for a time before she spoke. "I suppose the best thing that can be said is that we were not wrong. The Legend cannot simply be ignored or worked around."

"But we understand too little. I hope that when we return, the Sage will tell us more. I think your presence would be valuable."

"What troubles me is how he simply... sent Melal away on an errand."

"Not a simple errand. This seal is apparently critical to the Legend, and might cause great suffering if the mansthein acquired it."

"According to the Sage." Tani wrapped both hands around her cup as she leaned forward. "What else could he send Melal to do? Would there be anything, anything at all, that he would balk at doing if he was told the Legend required it?"

They both knew the answer, so for a time they said nothing. Eventually Slaten spoke carefully. "I do not believe that the Sage can or would lie in order to manipulate the Hero. I believe the man is... a part of the Legend, in the same way that the Hero is. And whatever else may be said of the Legend, it is always earnest and direct."

"A reasonable point." Tani took a drink and didn't taste it. "There's another problem: the Maenhu is at peace. Everything we tried to work for in the Expanse... they're already at peace, Slaten. Humans and mansthein even seem to coexist in Wahleen."

"For now. The Zeitai may intend to break that truce."

"And if that's true, we should try to stop him. But what I mean is that I worry about what Melal will do here. If... if we could set him solely against the Zeitai, he might actually bring more stability."

"But we don't control him, do we?" Slaten stared at her for a time, then slowly shook his head. "I agree that it would be best to avoid upsetting the balance. If nothing else, it would make the mansthein retaliate, possibly with the violence they've used elsewhere. But if there is violence... would it be worth it, to learn what the Legend fundamentally is?"

The question hurt Tani physically. She wanted to argue that they had no guarantee that they would receive any satisfying answers: most likely, the Sage would merely dispense more grandiose pablum. Yet she found herself as gripped by the problem as she had been when she first journeyed across the Chorhan Expanse. What she faced was not an impenetrable wall, but a lock that must have a key.

His first question troubled her as well. If she gathered her mental exercises and went after Melal, could she convince him to avoid causing more violence? Likely not, but she might be able to save someone. For a moment she considered it, but that only made her weary again. No, she wanted to stay with Slaten, meet the others, and never talk of the Legend again. After so long, she needed this.

"Tani!" The gloom was broken when Laeri suddenly exclaimed from the door.

Tani barely rose to her feet before the other woman caught her in a fierce embrace. Though she took an unintentional blow to the head from Laeri's staff, Tani didn't care, merely squeezing back. Laeri had been thin before and now felt much thinner, but at the moment her face beamed with happiness. Once they pulled apart, Laeri caught Tani's hands in her own.

"I'm so glad that nothing happened to you, Tani! I worried so, so much..."

"I'm glad you're safe too, Laeri." Even as she clasped back, Tani realized that someone else had entered behind Laeri. Though the woman wore a local dress, her hair and skin, and something in her eyes, marked her as from the raiding clans. Given what Slaten had said, it must be Natala.

"I... still can't do anything about your finger." Laeri began to tear up as she ran her fingers gently over the stump on Tani's hand. "I've learned many things, but it's so difficult..."

"Don't worry, Laeri. I'll be fine." Tani smiled and wiped away the other woman's tears, and to her surprise, felt almost no pain. For so long, any reminder of the injury had struck both her hand and her mind, yet here, in this place, it felt only warm.

"You feel so strong!" Laeri's sein brushed against her in a way Tani had never felt before, yet it immediately carried the familiar hesitance of the other woman. "You understand your sein better now, don't you? You should talk to Slaten! He learned something from the Bloodskins and it changed his body so much..."

"That's right, we've barely spoken about training." Smiling more broadly, Tani turned back to Slaten. "I didn't notice, but you do feel different. How does this raider art work?"

Slaten started to give a typically thorough answer, but Laeri hovered over Tani's shoulder and whispered, "Hit him!"

Filled with the strange warmth of finding her friends again, Tani punched Slaten in the stomach lightly. To her surprise, he felt as solid as if he wore armor. She struck him harder and still had little effect, which made him frown. "It is not so impressive a technique, but you can hit harder than that."

"Really?" Tani laughed at the absurdity of it, but decided that she would. Letting all her new sein flow down her arm, she struck him with everything she had.

Aside from jerking back with a grunt, Slaten barely reacted. Though Tani was downright impressed with his progress, she found herself caring not at all. "Not bad, but I have something to show you too. I'll close my eyes, you try to tap me with your sword."

Normally Slaten might have objected to the strange request, but even he was caught up in the strange joy of their reunion. Once she saw him draw his sword, Tani closed her eyes and stood with her hands at her sides. She didn't trust her new sense enough for true use in combat - that would require a polished art - but she knew Slaten's presence deeply and it would do well enough.

Soon she felt his movement like blades of grass against her arm. He slid his sword toward her side with exquisite slowness, either not wanting to hurt her or trying to trick her. Either way, she let it draw close before she caught it with two fingers.

When she opened her eyes, she saw his widen. "You felt my blade, even without any sein?"

"It's more than that. It's hard to explain." She was about to explain anyway, since she knew Slaten would be every bit as interested as she had been, but at that moment he grimaced. When he put a hand to his stomach and sat down, Laeri let out a gasp and rushed down to him.

"Oh, I'm such a fool! Of course your stomach isn't healed... here, sit down, I'll take care of it..."

Though Slaten did appear to be suffering from an old wound, he obviously didn't blame her for it. Given how good he was at bearing injuries, he might not have needed Laeri's attentions, but she needed to give them. Tani stepped back to let her work, still enjoying their company.

While she waited, she felt the Bloodskin woman come to stand beside her. As Tani turned to her and saw a mixture of hope and vulnerability, she realized that her judgment was unfair. If the Bloodskins were brutal raiders, the untrained women of their clan were only victims. Slaten had told her little enough, but if Natala had come with them, she must be a worthy companion.

"I admire you," Natala said softly. "Slaten told me that you traveled the Sotunn Mountains alone, which is something I never dared. I don't think that I could have, even if I had the power... but you have such strength. No women of our clan have ever fought."

"You must be Natala." Tani turned and gave her a smile. Given her current mood, she nearly embraced the other woman, but reason held her back. "I'm glad that you were able to escape your village and come here."

"Only thanks to Slaten. I am... not like you."

"But you could be." Though the idea of being an example to anyone made Tani's heart swell, she hastened to contain herself. "You don't need to be a warrior to be strong. What I saw of the raiding clans... they represent only a small, violent part of life. Now that you are free of them, you could become so much more."

"Will you show me?" Natala met her gaze briefly, hope warring with years of suffering. Tani longed to kindle that hope, to-

Slaten stood beside both of them with a face like stone.

Her instincts urged her to draw her knives and face whatever threat he saw, yet she felt nothing. Tani instead went still, noting that his attention was focused on Natala. The other woman looked back with a much cooler gaze than before, and for a moment Tani feared some threat lay between them, yet Natala seemed perfectly calm.

"Natala, don't. She will not forgive you."

"I didn't mean anything like that." After a pause, Natala sighed and looked toward Tani before casting her eyes downward guiltily. "All my life, I have been surrounded by warriors who threatened me. I... my instincts are always to ingratiate them to me, so they don't hurt me."

"That's terribly sad, but I think I understand." Tani wanted to give the other woman a reassuring touch, but it felt even more inappropriate after that revelation. "Please, believe me when I say that I want nothing but the best for you."

"It's easy to believe it. Slaten told me a great deal about you." Natala smiled back at her and the tension dissolved, though Slaten still shuffled darkly beside them. Tani wondered exactly what he had meant, especially his implication about her capacity to forgive. If he was speaking about Celivia, perhaps they needed to finally have a long conversation.

But for now, Tani was simply glad to be among friends. She drew both of them to the table and began pouring drinks.

~ ~ ~

At first Tani had been nervous about meeting their hosts, but Mantyos's good cheer quickly won her over. What followed was another round of introductions, including repeated stories that she somehow didn't mind. His wife proved more overtly hostile, eyeing Tani like an unfamiliar bug in one's home, but Slaten had warned her about Olondris.

When the woman walked to her husband and kissed him passionately, Tani found herself strangely moved. Their touch would have been at home in a Nelee village, sexual without being in any way provocative. After encountering so many prudish cultures, their kiss instantly endeared the couple to her.

They parted and Mantyos turned her. "Ah, Tani, I should introduce you. This is Olondris, my-"

"Judging from how you greeted her, I assume she's your sister?" Tani asked. Slaten had warned her about that as well.

After only a moment of astonishment, Mantyos threw back his head and laughed. Far louder than the mild joke deserved, yet Tani found herself grinning as well. The man had an infectious laugh, and if his wife scowled, she did not seem truly upset. They had been together so long that they loved each other's faults as well as their strengths.

For most of a day, Tani yearned to be near Slaten and Laeri as often as possible, as if she didn't truly believe she was back. Eventually, however, she came to accept that she could stay. Once they finished remembering other details from their travels, they allowed themselves to spend normal amounts of time apart.

As soon as she did so, she found herself facing Olondris. The other woman jerked her head for her to follow, gray hair twitching with the movement. Tani smiled, despite the lack of a response, and went after her to the training ground that Slaten had already showed her.

They sparred, but briefly.

Though Tani managed to leap away, her first thrown knife simply bounced off the woman's breastplate harmlessly. She had imparted as much sein as she could into it, but it simply snuffed out on contact. Perhaps she could have targeted the other woman's face, but in a real fight she would have worn an errant's helmet, so it would have been useless. Thus she could do nothing but delay the moment when she was completely disarmed at the end of the pike.

"Hm." Olondris pulled her weapon back and examined Tani thoughtfully. "Could be worse."

"Thank you, Master Olondris." With the rush over, Tani realized that they had been joined by Slaten. He waited quietly, but she hoped that his presence meant they could soon devote themselves to focused training.

"Don't call me that. Both of you are young, which means that you will do foolish things. Mantyos and I simply do not want you to die, so we will offer a little aid."

"And we're very grateful for that."

Slaten walked to stand beside them. "Where does Tani fall, in the theory we discussed before?"

"Perfectly balanced." Olondris spun her pike up to lean on her shoulder, regarding Tani with that same gray scrutiny. "Her path appears to include body, sein, and soul in equal measures. I would have thought that spreading yourself between all three would lead to weakness, yet they appear to... reinforce one another. It is an interesting path."

Though Tani was glad to hear her master's teachings praised by another master from half a continent away, she couldn't believe that the old woman would be so positive. "And my path's weaknesses?"

"Vulnerability, most notably. You will usually be overpowered by a warrior who has focused on sein, and you lack the endurance to use full defensive arts. Your body is well-adapted to combat, but I suspect it would succumb to poisons and illnesses that a Steeljudge would ignore."

"That is a thoughtful criticism. Thank you."

"If you want to thank me, do something about it. I think your path would be an excellent choice in a time of peace, but those are not our times. If you face war, I suggest that you unbalance yourself to learn the strongest defensive art you can."

"Do you have a suggestion?" Tani did not want to leave the teachings her master had left her, but she also did not want to offend Olondris. The older woman simply frowned.

"That would take time, perhaps more time than you have."

Slaten nodded. "Melal has been gone for some time. If he truly went to search for the mine, then we have many days to prepare, but we do not have anything near a year."

Olondris turned her back on them, taking slow and deliberate steps around the side of the small yard. As she did so, she turned her pike end over end in one hand, fingers easily controlling the spin. Tani and Slaten glanced at one another before deciding to let her think. At last she came to a halt and brought one end of her pike down against the cobbles.

"Fundamental training is all very well if you have no other priorities. Practical skills are better. I have one suggestion for each of you, which I hope will improve your potency even if you do not have time to fundamentally transform yourselves."

She gestured first to Slaten, so Tani stepped back and watched. The older woman set aside her pike, pulled his sword from its sheath, and examined the edge for a moment before abruptly bringing it hard against her armor. Tani winced from the scrape of metal on metal and saw only that no damage had been done, not whatever point she intended to make.

"When you fight a Catai, or any warrior with strong defenses, you must remember that you are fighting an armored opponent. Their skin is made to to resist the cut and deflect the thrust." Olondris flipped the sword around and demonstrated against Slaten without actually touching him. "When you try to strike them thus, you are playing directly to their strengths. You may be able to force your way through with sein, but you waste yourself."

"What do you suggest, then?" Slaten asked. Olondris surprised him by spinning the sword to grasp the blade in her hands as if to strike him with the pommel.

"This is the fifth technique of the Ironmonger's Path, called the hammer stroke. It seeks not to break your opponent's defenses, but to strike the weak flesh on the other side. Against an armored opponent, you may bash in their armor. Against a Catai, you could rattle their skull or injure their organs without ever needing to break their skin."

Wordlessly Slaten took his sword back from her, turning it over in his hands. He touched the edge without concern, but hesitated as he mimed striking with the pommel. After so much time repeatedly practicing familiar movements, it must have felt strange.

"Can that actually be effective?" Tani asked. She drew her sickle knife, trying to copy the movement, yet grasping the sword and whacking someone over the head with the end felt absurd. Yes, using the dull end would likely resonate better with sein for a blunt strike, but...

"I would not suggest it for you," Olondris said, "but it is a time-tested technique, particularly for those wearing armor or with sufficiently durable skin." She turned back to Slaten. "It will not come easily at first, but you are well-suited to it. Whoever trained you before granted you an exceptional capacity to release sein in a single blow, given your strength. If you apply that capacity to a blunt strike, you will no longer find yourself failing against such opponents."

"Thank you." Slaten bowed to her, but Olondris was already turning back to Tani.

"As for you, your weakness is scattered all over the ground."

"My knives?" Tani wasn't sure what the older woman intended to teach, but she moved to pick up her fallen throwing knives. She had only taken two steps when she suddenly found herself facing the sharp point of a pike.

"On a battlefield you cannot risk running about to retrieve your weapons. You would be better suited to throwing sein itself, but I presume that your training has not prepared you for such a thing."

"No, I've always needed a physical focus."

"Then you need to retrieve that focus." Olondris used the tip of her pike to flip one of the knives into the air and caught it. After turning it in her hands briefly, she dropped it... and the knife dangled a hand span beneath her fingers.

Frowning, Tani investigated if there was a hidden string or some other trick. Instead, she only smelled mint incredibly strongly. A moment later she realized that she hadn't seen a hint of a string, she had only felt the impression of one, and then she understood.

"I am not well-suited to this art, so this is the limit of my ability." Olondris jerked her wrist and the knife leapt up to her hand. "But if you could grasp the technique, each of your knives would be tied to you by your very self. At minimum you could retrieve them without risking yourself, and I have no doubt that a clever young warrior could think of more intricate uses."

"That is... an elegant idea." Though Tani again resisted, she also realized that such a technique might not be entirely out of keeping with her own master's teachings. There were sacred texts that discussed keeping a connection to her thrown weapons, so it could be repurposed... "When can we start?"

For a moment Tani thought that she would see Olondris smile, but the older woman only nodded to them. "Why not now?"

Chapter 32

-

"Though a proper lady should keep her head covered with a turban or wrap in public, use of errant-styled hoods is acceptable in the appropriate company. One's teeth should be kept bloody throughout a meal, but thoroughly cleaned in private prior to departure. Use of human handkerchiefs is permissible where it is the custom, but discouraged in mansthein company."

- excerpt from The Feminine Tooth

-

As she made her last marks on the paper, Natala sat back and looked over it again even though she knew every stroke. She was aware that her lines were rather sloppy, though hopefully not unreadable. If she focused, she could write the characters precisely, but she had simply been too impatient to endure the tedium. Her hand did not yet know the movements, and slowly crafting each line seemed a waste of time when she desperately wanted to move her thoughts from mind to paper.

Using paper as if it were a trivial thing. For so long, she had only held a few precious books, yet now she sat in an office filled with paper. She recognized that it was cheaply produced compared to her books, but it remained remarkable to her.

"Have you finished the inventory?" Foquin appeared in the doorway, shuffling in his usual curious way. He was not the richest or cleverest merchant in Torgaadi, but he was the one who was willing to accept the work of an ignorant foreigner. Judging from his girth and the rich purple shoulder wrap he always wore, he had done well enough for himself.

"It's there." Natala nodded to the wax tablet on the side of the desk, restraining any dismissiveness. Such trivial tasks were the price she paid for other opportunities. "I would like for you to look at this suggestion for ordering goods. Do you think it has any merit?"

"Hmm? What's this?" Foquin took the paper from her and peered at it, immediately frowning. "Your penwork here is truly atrocious."

"My apologies. I still have much to learn, but I hope..."

"Well, I see here at the bottom that you claim you can reduce my costs by a large sum. Have you developed a sein art to produce textiles?" He chuckled at his own joke, but he did look over everything she had written with a thoughtful eye.

Her apprenticeship to Foquin had been an enlightening experience. Not in the lists of goods and prices, which had been simple to memorize. She did not pretend to have grasped all the fundamentals of the mercantile arts, but those were essentially simple and would be mastered in time.

What had truly struck her was the fact that he built his entire life within a world of shipments and profits, just as certainly as Bloodskin men built their lives around strength and raiding. Foquin's wife, children, and nearly everyone he knew did the same. They found their world and its assumptions just as obvious as any Bloodskin, and that alone was worth the dreary days of writing lists that would have been better held in her mind.

Beyond that, she found it intriguing that he took a high degree of security for granted. He assumed that errants would be plentiful enough that few shipments would be lost. Losing some goods was merely a negative line on a wax ledger, easily erased. The idea that everything he owned could be put to the torch never entered his mind and he didn't live in fear of being torn in half by an angry warrior.

All of those things could still occur, and likely would if Espal and Portant went to war, but his confidence helped Natala understand why Slaten had been resistant to her conclusions. She still believed she was correct, but accepted that the applicability of those truths depended on context.

Her mind had flowed between many thoughts by the time Foquin finished reading through her list. He nodded slowly, regarding her with his usual, easily-read expressions: impressed, in this case. "You have a sharp mind, girl. There is much to see here."

"Truly?" She sat forward, letting her eyes fill with eager vulnerability.

"But you look too much at the numbers, not at the business between people. Yes, we could save some coin by reducing each order of perishable goods, but some wastes are part of life. So long as it is not too much, we will still make a tidy profit."

She accepted his initial judgment, but not his conclusion. "Looking at your past inventory statements, you often lose a portion of each order. If you reduce each by a fifth, you will have too little on occasion, but you will reduce loss on many other occasions."

Foquin shook his head. "Perhaps the numbers are true, but that is just what I mean: think of my customers. If they come to me for goods and I have nothing, they may go to someone else. And if there is a region-wide shortage, then having too much would be valuable indeed."

"There has not been a significant profitable shortage in your records in three years."

"Is that true?" The man stood back and blinked as if he had only just considered it. As she had suspected, his fear of great loss had blinded him to the greater loss accumulating day by day. "Perhaps it is. Yes, that winter was a dark time... but that is just when I wanted to come through for my customers."

"But in times of shortage, no one else would be able to sell to them either."

After staring at her, Foquin only chuckled. One reason she had remained with him was that he never exhibited any anger when she contradicted him. It felt wrong to her, a mental wrinkle that resisted her discipline, so she slowly smoothed it out through experience.

"One day you will learn that relationships are more important than a bit of profit, girl. But this..." Foquin set down the paper and tapped it thoughtfully. "This is useful. I had not realized just how much of my money I spent paying errants. This reorganization, with two fewer shipments every season, will save me a great deal."

"Thank you, Foquin." She lowered her head as if pleased while her mind considered her new problem.

She had included several mistakes on the paper so as to soften any actual insight, both in her sums and in her logic. None of Foquin's objections had mentioned them. It was possible, though improbable, that he saw through her deceptions. More likely possibilities included that he had not noticed, did not consider the errors worth mentioning, or that she had misunderstood something that rendered her intended mistakes doubly mistaken.

Though he'd come to help finish inventory, since it was complete, Natala could leave for the day. Yet as she moved to go, Foquin shifted into her path. He fumbled in a pouch as he spoke.

"If I took this paper and gave you nothing, I would be in your debt. And a good merchant should always manage debt carefully." He pulled a heavy wooden coin from his pouch and handed it to her. "Consider this payment for your services. Do not think of refusing, you deserve it!"

"Thank you." Natala smiled as she took the coin. It was an unforced smile, though not due to sentiment: the coin was proof that her efforts had concrete value. Since she was uncertain what response he would find most authentic, she decided to redirect his attention. "My people used mostly metal coins. Do you know why yours are wood?"

"Why? Couldn't tell you." Foquin pulled a handful of lesser coins out of his pouch and stared over them. "But it is a good system. Anyone can pull ore out of the ground and try to make coins. But true steelwood is rare, only a few groves across the nations."

"But surely some attempt to create false coins from other woods."

"Of course, but that's why you always see me run my knife over payments. And it is not so easy as that, because to carve the coins is no simple task."

"I see."

"There are stories of ruffians sneaking into the groves and hacking down trees, I will admit, and there are always false coins. But it is certainly better than everyone running about with metal in their pockets!" Like many of his statements, he did not explain what was obvious to him, and in this case she chose not to inquire further.

With her work complete, Natala departed to join the others. She met Laeri at the central errant watchpost, and as usual the other woman had many thoughts to share from her day. Natala pretended a very different sort of interest to her true concerns, gradually teasing information from her.

By observing the northerners' statements and campaigns, she was learning something no other Bloodskin had understood: exactly how the errants reacted to raiding. It was not so simple as striking back when they had been raided too often, but a complex mix of local variables and what precisely failed to pass through the mountains. Natala did not yet understand enough to use errant counterattacks as a tool, but it was only a matter of time.

Her first thought was to find a way to draw them down on the Bloodskins, to eradicate Bufogu and every other raider in the clan. Now she suspected that would be shortsighted, even if she could arrange for it. No, she needed to gather more information before the men of her clan returned south.

"-and for the first time I actually heard some of them speaking of the Hero!"

Natala immediately gave Laeri her full attention, though she had already been feigning it. "Did they meet Melal?"

"Oh, no, he's still looking for... you know what." Laeri smiled happily to herself. "But the errants hardly ever talked about the Legend, and when they did, they treated it like some old story. But today when they were complaining about the border, some of them said that maybe it would be good if the Hero came to solve the problem. It's a small thing, but it's a good sign, you know?"

Perhaps it was only a trivial event given too much weight, but speaking with Slaten and Tani had given Natala a healthy paranoia regarding the Legend. Even considering only what she had witnessed with her own eyes, where the Hero was involved, the rules that helped her frame reality often ceased to apply. Everything was suspect, even her own thoughts.

Undermining her basis for viewing the world was enough to make Natala wish Melal dead. According to the others, that wouldn't help.

Since Laeri had learned nothing else of interest, Natala let her mind drift over hypotheticals until they returned to the house. There they discovered that the evening meal was simmering and the warriors had already returned. They had waited, in some sort of quaint politeness, and instead bided their time by playing the game of beasts.

It was less a game than a test of skill, yet Natala still watched curiously as Tani and Slaten attempted to best one another. Though reaction time seemed to predominate, there was a mental element nonetheless. The possible reactions were so few that she imagined anyone could memorize them and react instinctively, yet if they did think about their movements, it was not a game for the slow of mind.

Slaten and Tani traded matches evenly, fumbling their movements as they attempted to change their positions at such rapid speeds. When Slaten eventually turned away, Tani attempted to compete with Mantyos, losing hand after hand.

"Dragon bites manticore!" Mantyos playfully had his fingers bite at Tani's hand, making the warrior throw up hers.

"Again! How do you keep beating me?"

"You may be much faster than me, but I do have eyes." Mantyos tapped his fingers just beneath them, as if they might be confused about what eyes were. "A smith requires arts to see the tiniest imperfection in the metal, and it works with warriors to a lesser degree. I can only move once, but I can see how your hand is moving right away."

"That is impressive." Tani sat back and stared at her own hand, wriggling her fingers. "But I'm going to beat you eventually, I just need to figure out the sein..."

"I'm sure you will, girl! I look forward to the day!"

Though Olondris's face held an expression as harsh as on their first day, she no longer stood apart from the group. Instead she sat in their circle, appearing stern but occasionally entering the conversation, as she did at that moment. "The day you can consistently beat Mantyos will be the day you have mastered your sein. If you can do so, your reaction time will be equal to any Ironlord."

Tani smiled and shook her head. "And what about the day when we can beat you?"

"You are unlikely to beat me." Though Olondris spoke flatly, Natala noticed that she actually made eye contact. The old woman kept her face impressively neutral, but her eyes revealed her thoughts. Careful observation had taught Natala to discern the slight differences in the way her gaze rested on her husband, analyzed threats, or considered others.

"We are not ignoring you!" Mantyos rose to his feet, sweeping both Natala and Laeri into a crushing hug that she chose not to evade. "Come and eat! We have something truly special today!"

He said that every day, some manner of joke that Natala recognized without really understanding: she evaluated the man's cooking as proficient but unremarkable. They all helped bring the various dishes to the table and then sat down to eat. For a time there was no conversation as everyone focused on filling their stomachs.

Natala had learned to use the lacquered sticks easily enough, but they still required some of her attention until her habits adapted. She noticed how effortlessly the warriors used them, Tani not paying attention to her hands as she spoke with Olondris and Slaten lost in his own thoughts. Perhaps their bodies were better suited to such agile movements.

For a moment Natala paused, staring at the sticks in her hand. They sprouted a thousand connections to the coin she carried with her and a dozen other statements, rapidly expanding into many potential conclusions. All of them potentially incorrect, so she quieted her thoughts and instead decided to speak to Mantyos.

"Do you know if there is a specific reason you eat using these?" she asked.

"They're awful." Laeri miserably fumbled at the grains with her sticks for a time before using a wooden spoon to scoop them up. They had given it to her after she had struggled for several days. "You can make so many other beautiful metal things, why not forks?"

"Oh, but we did!" Mantyos set down his sticks and smiled at them. "You do not know it, but you have just opened a box that contains a great deal of history! I will not relent until you have heard more than your fill!"

Natala leaned forward and mirrored his smile. "Please, do tell."

"Many centuries past, we did commonly eat with metal. But at that time, a single empire ruled over the Maenhu. They lived in constant fear that the peasants would rise up and overthrow them, so they did everything they could to stop uprisings. Chief among their strategies was to prevent them all access to metal, starting with controlling all mines and soon even confiscating all metal spoons and forks."

"Coins as well?"

"Just so!" Mantyos beamed as if this was a brilliant observation and swept his sticks upward to demonstrate. "So you see, Laeri, there is a reason for it after all. I could make a great many things of metal, but why change what I have known from birth? These have a comfortable elegance, and they are better for flavor than any metal, which is why they are used across the Maenhu."

That had been among the many possibilities that Natala considered, so she sat back in satisfaction. She was not convinced by Slaten's presumption that every culture was logical to some degree, but she had expected that these practices must have a reason, given the northern focus on metal.

"Everyone here uses that word," Tani said thoughtfully, "but I'm not sure I understand what it really means. The errants I traveled with insisted that it couldn't be translated. I don't suppose it's the name of the old empire?"

"Oh, it's not impossible to translate, it just means many things." Mantyos shook his head and sat back, his hands clasped over his stomach. "The literal meaning of the word is 'the mountains and the mines' but I think you can see that isn't how it's used."

"Is it a metaphor? The highest heights to the lowest depths... so the Maenhu is the whole world?"

"Sometimes it's used that way, but you see the small-mindedness of it, don't you? We only use that word here, in the north of Breilin, and so it often refers to Portant, Espal, and Wahleen. So another meaning of the word is to encompass our three nations."

"Also errants," Olondris added flatly. Mantyos nodded cheerfully and rubbed her back.

"Right, right! You see, 'Maenhu' is a military word, used first by errants. So often it's used to refer specifically to the military world across the three nations. The world of errants and challenges as opposed to the world of politicians or merchants. All these definitions mix together into a rather confusing stew, yes? But the one thing it doesn't refer to is the old empire."

Tani and the others nodded thoughtfully, while Natala simply recorded the definitions. In the pause, Slaten spoke up quietly. "What happened to that empire?"

"There are still stories told of its fall." Mantyos shook his head and began eating again. "More than we could tell now, not without the food getting cold. A boy who forged spearheads from the last metal coins. A woman who uncovered lost arts of soulsteel and fought with a simple branch. A man who forged his grandmother's spoon into a knife. These are stories that all children here have heard."

"I have wanted to ask you about that." Tani finished chewing her food and regarded the couple seriously. "I hope I am not rude in asking about your children. You have been together for so long, and your house has additional rooms... are they grown now?"

For once, Mantyos did not respond with immediate good cheer. Instead, after a pause that produced many brief glances around the table, Olondris spoke. "It is not possible for us to have children."

"Oh." Laeri looked up from her food, immediately overtaken by the emotion of the mere concept. "There are many sorrowful marriages that have such struggles. But sometimes what seems impossible is only unlikely, if there are obstacles within the body. Have you perh-"

"It is not possible." Olondris made a brief moment of piercing eye contact and then looked down. Mantyos quickly moved to put a hand over hers and spoke boisterously.

"If it was a matter of luck, we'd have a whole brood of children now, eh?"

Only Tani smiled politely, but Natala saw that Olondris moved her hand just a hair further into her husband's. The silence stretched, clearly making the others uncomfortable, and Natala soaked in every detail of their faces. Eventually Mantyos spoke again.

"Perhaps one of us is so cursed, perhaps both. We have never known another, so we cannot be sure. But we made our peace with that decades ago and used our rooms to host wonderful errants such as yourselves. If we cannot have our own children, we can raise up others."

"Wait." Tani stared at them with surprising astonishment. "Never known another... surely you can't mean...?"

Mantyos laughed and squeezed his wife's hand. "You may be shocked to hear it, looking at my unbelievably handsome face, but I had no luck with women until Olondris finally came along. So yes, we have been together ever since and never looked elsewhere."

"But... to only know one person... how can you know your desires, or if the two of you match well?" Tani asked the question as if struggling to understand the concept, while Mantyos only laughed.

"Are you saying we need to be louder at night, is that it?"

Tani laughed at herself, Laeri blushed furiously, and even Slaten smiled. Natala considered that she should have laughed, but no one would be judging her here. Instead she simply analyzed the interplay of assumptions, emotions, and reactions. Humans could seem so simple at times, yet each was built on a foundation of arbitrary rules that rendered them impossible to fully calculate.

At that moment they heard the cheering, and Natala fumbled her eating sticks as she felt the change.

Though Mantyos and Olondris merely looked out the windows curiously, the others rose to their feet. Tani uttered a brief apology while Slaten stalked to the door. Natala placed her sticks properly on the side of her bowl and then followed them.

Errants marched through the central street of Torgaadi, but Natala barely considered them. Her gaze fell entirely on the head of the march, where two armored figures carried Melal. Where the rest of the world flowed with natural grays, he shone with oppressive glory.

All around, the townspeople cheered wildly for him. Tani attempted to ask some of them what had happened and why they were cheering, but Natala barely listened. Instead she simply let the chaos of it seep into her, filtering the sensation into observations for analysis. She had felt this atmosphere before, when Bufogu had manipulated his clan or the raiders had celebrated a great victory. It was an animal reaction, something that might be impacted by reason but could never be joined to it.

As they followed the crowd, Natala quietly observed them. She noted faces that she recognized from the markets and familiar suits of armor from the errant watchpost. To her surprise, she saw Foquin and his family cheering as they watched a man they did not know.

When Melal was carried to the central square, the procession finally stopped. Torgaadi had no grand fountains or statues, so he simply leapt to stand on the shoulders of the errants who carried him. When he raised his hands, the peasants of Torgaadi went silent.

"People of Portant!" Melal swept his gaze over the crowd as if he could meet the gaze of every individual. "I am the Hero, Savior of the Coran Resistance. Your lands are threatened by the Deathspawn, but not for much longer. I have met with errants of Wahleen, and we will unite to cast them out!"

Had any of them hated the Deathspawn, before that moment? Natala had cataloged many complaints, fears, superstitions, and rumors, but she had observed little hatred. Not until that moment, when the crowds cheered their bloody approval.

"Your warriors can choose whether to defend you here or to stand with me. I will remain in Torgaadi until it is time for us to march into battle. Any who wish to serve the cause of the Legend, you have only to speak to me. We march to glory and a free Portant!"

The cheers went on and on. Melal never seemed to tire of them, grinning over the crowd and raising his sword to the sky. Even when he leapt down from the errants' shoulders, the people lingered nearby, reaching out to touch him with looks of disbelief.

Natala noted that Slaten and Tani retreated to avoid Melal coming to them, likely because they did not want to make themselves targets. She quite agreed with their decision and followed as they avoided the crowds. Yet it only delayed the inevitable, as eventually Melal found them on an empty street.

"My travels have gone far better than I could have imagined," he said without preamble. "But the Bloodskin warriors will obviously not be enough, not against the threats we face. Veron is still missing, the treacherous drunk. The errants who stand with me are strong, but I will still rely on you, my companions. Have you prepared yourselves?"

"Melal, are you sure about this?" Tani rubbed the stump of her missing finger with her other hand, though she didn't realize it. "If you announce your intentions, the Deathspawn will be able to prepare for you."

"Oh, but I told them nothing about where I intend to march, and I have laid false promises to trick them. They believe that I intend to attack at the border between Portant and Wahleen. I may yet do so one day, but for now the Zeitai and his Deathspawn will be led astray. We will claim the mine and the seal without any trouble."

That was an unusually good plan, for Melal. Yet as Natala listened to the lingering cheers, she found herself desperately searching for some detail they had missed.

~ ~ ~

Even though Mantyos had given her a thicker cloak, Tani was freezing. She'd resorted to shivering her body rapidly, letting her sein flow through her enough that her movements created all the warmth she needed. The only problem was that it led to strange looks in town, even from the errants.

At least it was no longer snowing. Her initial encounters had been as a threat in the Sotunn mountains, ice on the peaks or in shadowed crags. When she had first witnessed it falling, drifting down as if the clouds themselves crumbled, she had been overjoyed. Yet as she'd spun among the dancing flakes, she'd quickly realized just how horribly cold they could be. It became even colder in the following days, colder than she had known was possible.

Though she was attempting to meditate behind the house, shivering in place, Tani wasn't accomplishing much. She kept thinking about how cold she had felt in the mountains, during the warmest of seasons. Winter in the mountains would have been beautiful, but deadly.

Tani attempted to draw her experience of the cold into her practice, but for one of the first times in her life her attempt utterly failed. The cold was too sharp, too antithetical to life. Slaten seemed to feed off it, and Laeri viewed sein as a dry abstraction, but Tani couldn't welcome the cold into herself. Or rather she could, and she was freezing, and that was the problem.

Setting her back against the wall, which was at least somewhat warm from the smithy, Tani shifted her focus. If she couldn't embrace the cold, she could use it to define warmth. As she drifted into her sein, she imagined the heat of a fire and allies, all the warmer for the chill outside. She realized that it could even strengthen the home, a glowing ember amid the freezing snow. For a time, she returned to herself, her sein growing to accept the cold.

When she breathed out in satisfaction, she saw the breath from her lips. No one should live in a place where breath itself could freeze.

Rubbing her arms vigorously, Tani rose to her feet. Olondris had left on an errand, so there were only three of them in the training yard. Slaten continued to practice his skills, flakes of snow melting as they neared him. Mantyos stood outside in only a shirt, stretching in the cold as if it wasn't freezing.

He and Olondris did seem to be unnaturally warm, their bodies living forges. They also had one another, as she could hear on some nights. Though Tani was heartened by their love, they made her wish that she had a partner with her, especially as the nights grew colder and colder.

"I can't focus anymore." Tani turned to Slaten, still rubbing her arms. "We've been training for too long, and Melal is only going to drag us into another battle. Surely there must be some joy to be had in this season that isn't freezing cold."

"Joy?" Mantyos spoke cheerfully. "Look here and I will show you joy."

Tani turned and was promptly struck in the face with snow. She gasped, the cold of it running through her body in a shock. Though she violently shook her cloak to try to keep the powdery snow away from her, she found herself laughing. Across the yard, Mantyos scooped up more snow, crushing it into a ball to hurl at her.

His reactions might be swift, but he was no warrior. Tani rapidly grasped some snow of her own, squeezed it into a misshapen lump, and hurled it at his face. As the snow exploded through his beard, Mantyos laughed and threw at her again. He wouldn't be able to hit her, but he obviously didn't care.

"Is this a tradition in the north?" Tani asked, once they were both breathless. Mantyos slowly shook his head.

"It is a game played by children... but not only children."

"I can understand the spirit of it." Tani smiled fondly, but still shivered. "Are there games or traditions that involve... anything warmer?"

"You should try spiced fhoka," Mantyos said. "We do not make it ourselves, but it is always sold in town when the days grow cold."

"Oh, then we should!" Tani turned to Slaten, but he frowned, his sword still drawn.

"I do not know if now is the time. As you said, Melal will soon-" He cut off as Mantyos hurled a snowball at him, blinking as it exploded across his chest. Tani threw a snowball as well, and he tried to cut it out of the air, but the snow exploded from his blade and covered him. When she laughed, she saw a hint of a smile from him.

"I believe the imminent threat is all the more reason to enjoy ourselves." Tani moved behind Slaten and pushed him from the training yard. "We cannot let the Hero steal our entire lives or we'll be fighting for nothing."

Eventually even Slaten agreed, so Mantyos retrieved a shirt and led them into Torgaadi. The streets were muddy with melted snow, but the housetops still covered in fresh layers glistened beautifully. Tani thought that it would be a peaceful season, if only she could stay inside where it was warm.

Those who could remained inside, quite sensibly. Cold as Tani felt, she realized that many of the townspeople she saw looked even colder than her, shielded against the chill by many layers. Even most of the errants shuffled in their armor as if uncomfortable, except the higher ranked ones. Not wanting to focus on all their systems and ranks, Tani instead turned her eye to the town itself.

As they walked, she heard Reili spoken all around her and occasionally followed a conversation. When she was too tired to train any longer, she had spent time practicing with Mantyos and Olondris. She wished that Slaten would join them, but he seemed reluctant to learn the language, and she knew he was studying the mansthein tongue instead.

When they purchased cups of spiced fhoka, Tani negotiated the prices entirely in Reili. The man running the cart gave her a patient smile but didn't try to speak to her in Coran. She would accept that for now.

As for the spiced fhoka, it proved a strange experience, at once sweet and bitter. Mantyos showed her how it could be made far sweeter, but his cup was too rich for her. She found herself wishing they had more diverse drinks, yet she felt as though the fhoka was also a core part of this life. As their landscape and customs changed with the seasons, they had one drink in common, always familiar and different at once, tying them to the turning of the year.

In one of Torgaadi's streets, Tani noticed something unfamiliar. A large wagon had been painted a deep green, wreathed with the boughs of the trees that did not suffer in the winter. Atop it, she saw two women and a man, wearing heavy cloaks and carrying staffs. Each staff appeared to have been fashioned from a solid piece of wood, with elaborate carvings at the top.

"Who are they?" Tani asked. Mantyos stepped beside her to look, then nodded slowly.

"Ah, I suppose you have not seen the mystics of Portant before. There were once more of them, but their tradition is fading in favor of the errant orders."

Slaten had already finished his cup, but turned back at that to ask a different question. "The errants are an outside tradition?"

"Not as such. There have been errants in these lands for centuries." Mantyos spoke quietly as he walked closer to the mystics and they naturally followed. "But the people of Portant were here first. You will hear many tales told between nations, and some carry too much pride, but that much is true. When travelers first came from the west and the east, here in the center, humans lived in the forests of Portant."

"The Regent's Forest?" Tani asked. Mantyos laughed and shook his head.

"Much further north, girl. You may think this is cold, but this is a spring breeze compared to deep winter. In the northernmost reaches, the snow never melts. Some mystics dwell in those forests, following old ways, and at Icgaad, errants train in caverns of solid ice. Over the icy straits, the Chilgaan Islands are even colder yet, and beyond them, there is only the Final Sea."

Though his words inspired a sense of awe in Tani, they also inspired a desire not to go any of those places and freeze to death. She took a deep drink of her fhoka, wishing that she could buy a fresh cup.

Mantyos had led them beside the wagon, where the mystics spoke to the small crowd around them. Though at first Tani had worried that they would be like the Sages of the Legend, the similarities she saw in their appearances soon dissolved. They advised the people of Torgaadi on crops, medicine, and omens. If the omens seemed strange to her, the medicines they sold looked familiar, no doubt born of a deep wisdom of the lands.

Many of the people asked about the weather and Tani felt slightly relieved that they worried about the snows as well. The mystics predicted that the snow would melt, but after that, the sky would turn cold, and if clouds returned, those snows would remain throughout the season. Tani respected their tradition but hoped that the mystic was wrong about that.

"What do the trees say about the Hero?"

The unexpected question made Tani nearly choke on her drink. She discovered that it was a young man asking one of the female mystics. Lowering her head, the woman was silent for a time before she turned to the older of the two women. They conferred quietly before the elder spoke. "Such tales are beyond our craft, but the signs do speak of a great change."

All around them, the words shivered through the crowd. Though Tani had not known of the Portantese tradition before that day, she still felt a sense of violation. Here in the snowy north, there should be no more talk of the Legend, only cold walks and warm homes.

She drank again, but only bitter dregs remained.

Chapter 33

-

"This Legend is no mere story, it is the death of everything we have worked for. It attempts to set our human brothers and sisters against us and prevents the divide through the center of Wahleen from ever being abolished. How can we stand against Portant when we struggle even to stand with each other?"

- anonymous public letter in mansthein Wahleen

-

Though Celivia had been concerned about convincing Ghalia's superiors to allow her leave, it had been effortless in the end. Ghalia had simply gone to one of Xetsu's officers, an enormous Catai with crocodilian skin, and said that she wanted to join a friend to go battle strong humans. Her request had been granted without a second thought. Finding Reina and Unila again had been the greater challenge.

Their trip to Ith Silvaros, however, had been frustratingly rushed. There was no time to talk to the others or enjoy the city, she had been forced to sprint to make connections before the Voidwalker left again. She had hoped her old connections with Elanian could have given her several Catai, but instead she received only a vague promise to send someone to help. There was no time to press her case.

Now at last they stood in the square, ready to voidwalk across the world again. Unila would arrive to take them soon, so Celivia looked over her friends one more time. "Are you ready? Veartel is extremely cold throughout the year."

"Bah. You've said that enough, Celi." Ghalia had disdained to purchase any other clothing, her chest still bare except for her wraps. Reina, meanwhile was bundled in so many coats that she looked as though she would roll if someone pushed her. Celivia had only visited Veartel once, but it had made a strong impression on her.

"You're here. Good." Unila walked into the square at a rapid clip carrying a dark crate, looking over their group. "No one new?"

"It seems not," Celivia said. "What is the procedure when we reach Veartel?"

"We arrive at one of the secondary centers so that I can unload these. Speaking of which, use your muscles for something useful for once." Unila shoved the box at Ghalia, who easily took it in one hand. "The useless porters left several more on the street outside, so please bring them. Anyway, once I deliver the crates, the only thing I need to do is exchange messages - there are always a lot of them, going to and from Veartel. But I'm going to be exhausted, so I'll take a few days to recover. That's how long you have to find your last friend."

"That won't be hard." Ghalia returned to them carrying all the crates stacked on her arms. "To find Lurimin, all you need to do is locate the largest concentration of books."

"Then huddle close and focus. This path is difficult."

The four of them pressed together around Unila, with Ghalia looming behind bearing all the crates. Celivia found herself pushing up against Reina's many layers and just smiled before putting an arm around the other woman's shoulder. Then the world crumpled up and they fell into darkness.

When they arrived in a bleak room, they could have been in a Voidwalker chamber anywhere in the world... for a few heartbeats. Warmer air from Ith Silvaros rushed out from them only briefly before the native air closed in with a vengeance, biting every exposed scrap of Celivia's skin.

Ghalia grunted irritably and almost dropped her crates, while Reina whimpered and pressed into Celivia's side. Though Celivia could mostly endure it, the cold went straight through the core of her tail. She pulled it back through another layer of robes and wrapped it around her waist as tightly as she could.

Only one old woman in a Voidwalker uniform sat in the chamber, shifting back and forth in a rocking chair. That was mildly strange, but what struck Celivia was the cloud white of her Vear skin. Despite her age, her hair still fell jet black around her, thinner but just as dark as a young woman.

"There you are." She nodded absently to herself when she saw them. "Are those the reagents or the medicine?"

"Reagents," Unila said, walking forward and giving the old woman a deep bow. "Where should we take them?"

"Just set them down beneath the second rune there, if you please. I have some nice young teeth coming by today to carry them all to their proper places." With that, the old woman went back to rocking as if they were of no more concern to her. Celivia wondered if she spent the entire day here, alone in the freezing chamber.

Normally Ghalia resisted being ordered around, but she quietly went to set down the crates in the marked space where the old woman had requested. Meanwhile, Unila turned back to them. "That will make this easier. Follow me so that you don't get lost, but once we get inside Veartel proper, you can go where you want."

They headed for the doorway, which bled cold even as they drew close. Though Celivia had visited Veartel once before, she was still curious to see what their destination would look like, since the city was a vast complex of underground caverns.

When they opened the door they were hit by a bracing wall of cold, snowflakes curling around them. The old woman shouted for them to close the door, so they hurried out even as they froze. To Celivia's surprise, they stood atop a craggy hill with a vantage point over the surrounding land.

A forest of evergreen trees, most encrusted with snow, stretched to the horizon. When she turned to look in the other direction, she saw the trees end in rising hills that led to fearsome mountains. Many Sotunn peaks were capped with snow, but these appeared to be cut directly from the ice. Part of the horizon appeared strangely blurry and she realized that it was a snowstorm of terrifying proportions, engulfing the landscape itself.

The others seemed more interested in getting underground, which she admitted was perfectly reasonable. As they headed down a staircase carved in the rock, Celivia still found herself looking out over the forest. She could see a brilliant silver line that must be a frozen river. Since a river supposedly passed beside Veartel, then the underground city was much larger than she had known.

"Fuck!" As they went, Ghalia rubbed her arms against herself violently. "It's cold as balls!"

"Are those usually cold?" Reina asked. "You may be doing something wrong."

"You know what I mean, Rei!"

Reina smiled sweetly. "Do I? I'm not familiar with that sort of thing."

"Fuck you too, Rei! Get your swaddled ass moving before my nipples freeze off!"

Once they descended into the dark entrance, however, it didn't grow much warmer. They didn't go far before they met guards standing stiffly outside a door. Ghalia grumbled at them as they checked identification, but they refused to be hurried until they had confirmed everyone, then allowed them to pass into Veartel.

Her previous visit had been in a very different part of the city, yet Celivia immediately saw many similarities. The vast caverns, the soft blue sein spheres, and the crowded echoes. Above all, it felt strange to be surrounded by Vear mansthein. Everywhere she looked, she saw dark hair, impossibly white skin, and pale red eyes. Their group attracted more than a few stares, but no one came near them.

In Bundlin, Celivia had seen Zeitai Sepultus, who looked as though he'd made all the Vear in his image. To her knowledge, there had never been credible rumors of him having a partner or even friends, yet the resemblance was undeniable.

Except for one thing: Sepultus had blue eyes. Unnatural eye colors might look attractive on Tani or Slaten, but Celivia had found them incredibly unnerving on the Zeitai's face. She examined everyone she saw, just in case some rare Vear had unusual eyes, yet saw nothing but the same pale red.

"Here we are." Unila stopped them in a smaller chamber, the walls and ceiling carved with Voidwalker sigils, and pointed toward a row of desks built into one wall. "You go this way and ask them your questions. They'll tell you where to go if you need somewhere to stay. I'll be going down a level and you won't see me for a few days, but stay close for when we need to leave."

"I understand, Unila." Celivia smiled at her as she turned to go. "Thank you again for this."

"You weren't so heavy." Unila shook off the conversation and turned away, vanishing into one of the smaller corridors. That left them standing in the room with dark-clad bodies moving around them. Here with the Voidwalkers, there were many more non-Vear mansthein, but it was painfully obvious that they were not at home here.

Just when Celivia was about to lead them to the desks, Ghalia moved first, stomping up to a small Vear official. "Yo! We're looking for someone named Lurimin. Short, pretty little runt, you can definitely miss her but you shouldn't."

"Ghali!" Reina followed her, shaking her head. "You think you can just ask like that? Do you have any idea how many people live in Veartel?"

"No. Do you?"

"Well... no. But it's tens of tens of thousands, isn't it? They won't just have her in the other room."

After looking between them with a mild gaze, the official bowed politely and then turned to a shelf of roughly bound books. "You are looking for a foreigner? What is her division and specialty?" After Celivia gave the information, the official spent only a short time combing through a certain book, then looked up from it. "Vearnan Lurimin is currently stationed on Setanel for intensive training."

"Setanel?" Ghalia glared down at the official. "Where the fuck is that?"

"Setanel is an island off the west coast of Fareshel. Zeitai Sepultus maintains a research base on it, and one legion is stationed there for special operations. If your acquaintance is on the island, I am afraid that she can only be recalled by an order of critical importance."

"Dammit! We came all this way to freeze our tits off for nothing!" Ghalia stormed away, slapping her biceps for warmth. Though Reina started to follow, Celivia found herself looking down at the book curiously. It was written in what appeared to be a very strange form of Futhik, too hard to read upside-down, so she decided simply to voice her question.

"You called her Vearnan. Lurimin isn't Vear."

The official looked at her, looked down at the book, and then looked back up with the same bloodless gaze. "The record states that Vearnan Lurimin has conducted herself admirably. It would be impolite to forbid her a title when she has been welcomed to Veartel."

But not welcomed enough that she wasn't listed in a book as a foreigner. Celivia nodded politely and went to join the others as they walked back into the city proper. Though Celivia tried to think of any way they could contact Lurimin, disappointment slowly gained a stranglehold on her thoughts. It would not be possible for the four of them to reunite, this time.

"At least Luri will fit in with all these pale bastards." Ghalia didn't bother to lower her voice, not that anyone seemed offended. "But these Vear had better have some good meat. They do eat meat, right? They don't... drink newly melted snow or some shit?"

"Luri told me that they use sweet flavorings," Reina said, smiling fondly. "They sound delicious. I know that it would be better to eat with her, but at least we can enjoy ourselves, right?"

Though that might have been a slight balm to their disappointment, it proved impossible. After arcing through several large caverns, the group realized that they stood at the far end of a military portion of the city. To get through the barracks and administrative centers would require a long walk through unfamiliar territory.

Eventually they found a Vear who offered them quarters, and Ghalia bullied a quartermaster into supplying them with an allotment of fresh meat. Aside from the blood, the smell was strange to Celivia and she found herself wondering where it was from. Game hunted on the surface, bovals adapted to living underground, or some stranger cavern creature?

She managed to start a fire in their room when Ghalia abruptly slapped her on the back. "Celi, cook for us! I'm sure you can do better than some Vear!"

"I can try," Celivia said, "but I don't exactly have any ingredients."

"They seem to use chits for everything here, but money has to be worth something. I'll just find a - Rei, stop eating that!"

Reina did not stop chewing on the piece of raw meat in her mouth. "I don't have so much bulk to feed off, Ghali. This cold is going to make me skin and bones unless I get something in my stomach."

"I eat your weight every day, girl! If you don't leave me my fair share, I'll eat you."

"Be my guest. I'd enjoy it more than you would."

Celivia smiled at the sound of them bickering. In the past there had indeed been some conflicts, though only the struggles of family. But this was not even that, only another sign of how much they had missed one another. It was a shame that Lurimin couldn't join them, but Celivia resolved to do what she could. The quality of the meat was decent, so if she could just find some salt...

Unila appeared in the doorway, panting for breath.

Ghalia turned to her with a mock scowl. "If you want any, go buy your own meat!"

"No." Unila leaned against the wall and rubbed her forehead. "There weren't just messages when I arrived. Well, some. But there was one specifically for us."

Dropping the meat, all thought of a meal forgotten, Celivia stepped up to the Voidwalker. "What message?"

"We need to go back, right now. The Zeitai has received credible reports that the Hero has been sighted."

Chapter 34

-

"The Zeitai gazed at the many marvelous birds brought before him, but said nothing. Finally Fasilin brought forward his egg and begged for the Zeitai's forgiveness because it would not hatch. And the Zeitai rose with a smile, proclaiming to all that the eggs he had given had been dead. Out of all the young warriors, only Fasilin had been honest, and he was trained to be the Zeitai's successor."

- Seinan version of The Zeitai's Egg

-

Slaten marched at the front of the group, just after Melal, and felt the weight of all those who came behind him. It would have been easier if he believed he was marching somewhere.

When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw many who by most standards deserved his position more. Patule and some of the other Bloodskins had all his advantages but with more raw power. Some of the errants wore Steeljudge bands, thus were judged superior to him by an objective system. Yet they didn't seem to care, eyes alight as they looked forward, and that was less than a comfort.

In fact, the only comfort was that he seemed to be mostly ignored. Some of the female errants regularly engaged Tani, and some of the older warriors doted on Laeri, but only a few Bloodskins even greeted him. Since Melal looked toward no one, they might as well have had no leader at all.

"I wonder if I should have concentrated on nothing but this." Tani spoke quietly to him, proving his thought wrong. She dangled one of her knives from her hands by an invisible thread of sein, swinging it back and forth in front of her as they walked. "We had nearly thirty days. If I had focused solely on this art, perhaps I would be more confident in it now."

"You don't seem to struggle with it," Slaten said. Tani shook her head.

"No, it isn't coming naturally. When I focus my sein, it's a strange mix of Nelee teachings, suggestions from Olondris, and memories of our travels. It hasn't unified into a single technique."

"I understand. It may be safer not to attempt it, especially if you have enough ground to fight." He remembered more than a few occasions when something had gone wrong and the movements of Tani's hand had sent her knives flying wildly, sometimes back toward her. Perhaps thinking of the same occasions, she caught her knife and smiled at him.

"What about you? You seem to have mastered this hammer stroke."

"Mostly. It is not as comfortable as more familiar techniques, but I no longer hesitate in grasping the blade."

"It's curious that it has such a simple name. I have spent some time amongst errants along the Oestiid River, and they seem to have very few grandiose names for their arts."

Slaten had wondered the same and asked Olondris, so he had an answer ready for her. "Errants do not consider it respectful to speak openly of their arts, so their names are kept secret. Even the hammer stroke is a general term that refers to several related arts. The most she has given us is the name of the Ironmonger's Path, which I consider a sign of respect."

"Ah, that makes sense. The errant concept of 'respect' is still somewhat difficult to grasp. I wonder wh-"

"Both of you, quiet." Melal abruptly looked over his shoulder, after so long in silence. "We are close."

With a deep breath, Slaten accepted that the marching order would soon be the least of his problems. "Do you mean to the mine? Surely it must be further."

"Of course. The mine lies deep within the Regent's Forest, far from here. Several Bloodskins died just trying to reach it. Today is about destroying a Deathspawn outpost, and more importantly about drawing them away from the mine." Melal returned to staring forward, his voice rising. "If the outpost falls easily, then they will think there is an attack from Wahleen. But even if we cannot slay them all, forces will still be drawn from the mine to reinforce the outpost. Either way, we strike to claim the seal."

Though the plan seemed sound, it rested on an unknown number of assumptions. The exact positioning of troops, for one, and how the mansthein would respond to such a threat. For that matter, how the human soldiers involved would react. As much as Slaten had enjoyed his time spent in Torgaadi, he abruptly wondered if he had made a terrible mistake by leaving Melal alone.

Or more likely, he would have made no difference at all.

"The outpost is ahead!" Melal called back to the others, raising his hand for them to halt. "Find cover as close as you can. My companions and I will advance to draw them out. Strike when the time is right!"

Slaten and Tani walked forward after Melal, approaching what appeared to be a squat fortress atop one of the rolling hills. It was constructed of large slats of stone reinforced by metal, clean except for drifts of snow in several places. Fortunately, sanity prevailed: Laeri stayed back in a defended position while Patule and two of the errants joined them. One Lesser Steeljudge and a Peak Ironlord, so their group of six held no small amount of power.

As they approached, several figures on the battlements saw them and immediately disappeared. By the time they drew near, a mansthein man emerged from the entrance. Not a Catai, but he wore heavy armor and carried a long war hammer. He set it against the ground and shouted at them.

"Come no further! The Deathspawn army has no quarrel with you, but if you encroach upon this space, granted to us by the nation of Portant, then you will suffer the consequences."

"We want no violence, but we need to speak to you!" Melal continued walking forward, so the rest of them did as well. Atop the wall, Slaten saw more mansthein gathering, some armored but most carrying bows. If they did loose arrows, he might be able to knock some off the low wall, but they could be a serious threat.

"If you wish to treat with us, then stop where you are!" The lead mansthein lifted his war hammer into both hands. "We take no part in your human wars. Let us lay down our weapons and-"

"There is only one war!" When Melal drew close, he abruptly lunged, his sword flashing out and driving through the chest of the mansthein.

The man stared down at the blade with a shock that made Slaten hesitate. It was not surprise at Melal's speed, but shock that he had been attacked. Slaten realized that the mansthein had truly believed they were treating peacefully and died for his trust.

Atop the walls, the soldiers reacted instantly. Their archers were already in position and now loosed a hail of arrows. Slaten drew his sword and hoped that his body could endure. Though the arrows did not travel quickly to his eye, they came so thickly that he would struggle to dodge. Tani had immediately leapt back out of range, but it was too late for him.

One of the errants slammed their large rectangular shield on the ground. Dust shot in all directions from the impact and Slaten was forced to take a step back by the burst of wind. It struck the arrows with even greater force, scattering them across the field.

Even the well-trained archers hesitated for a moment at that, but soon they were nocking second arrows. Before they could, Melal threw the corpse off his sword and called out a charge. Patule and the other errant rushed past him, both leaping up onto the battlements. Some archers died instantly, but more retreated as sein-trained warriors stepped up to hold the line.

More of them flooded from the entrance to the fort. Slaten was surprised to find himself facing a warrior wearing Wahleenese armor, apparently human. Before his opponent could arrive, Slaten raised a hand. "Wait. We do not-"

Then the spear thrust at his face and he had no more time to speak. Even if the armored warrior was Wahleenese, he was fully committed to killing blows. If so, Slaten would not stand down. He had no idea what he even would have said, if he had been allowed to speak.

Though his opponent moved quickly, Slaten rushed directly back at him. His new body made it easy to bash aside the next spear thrust, then he reversed his blade and slammed the hilt against his opponent's head. Though it was not a well-executed blow, he was shocked at how much the metal deformed under the impact.

Staggering back, the warrior desperately tugged at his helmet. Slaten didn't give him a chance, thrusting through the gap beneath his breastplate. As the man fell, his helm finally came free, revealing his battered face.

A battered mansthein face.

That should have meant nothing, since they had come to kill Deathspawn, but Slaten realized that he had been wrong. The man being Wahleenese and being mansthein had not been mutually exclusive. Far too late, he wondered at exactly what agreement the two sides had struck.

More mansthein rushed from the fort, threatening to surround him. But Tani had reached him, allowing them to fight together, and they could use the fort to their own advantage to limit their attackers. On top of that, Slaten heard a great cry from the forest at the same instant that a searing light blinded him. Melal had climbed to the top of the gate, raising his gleaming sword overhead.

"Slaughter them! Slaughter them all!"

~ ~ ~

Though Celivia was told that she camped on the border of Portant and mansthein-controlled Wahleen, the statement meant nothing to her. The armor and architecture might be familiar, but her body refused to believe it. After spending so many days ricocheting around the world, through different days and seasons, something within her rebelled. She had slept poorly the previous night and now she felt increasingly nauseous.

"So, who are we fighting?" Ghalia sat behind her, grinding her fists around her axe. "I was expecting some human barbarians, but they're saying it's some hero?"

"We don't know the truth." Celivia turned away from the window to focus on Ghalia and Reina. "It could be false rumors or a ploy. The truth of whatever is happening there might have been completely lost as it passed between messengers."

"But you don't think it is, do you?"

Celivia massaged her forehead, wondering if she felt only a headache or something worse. "I'm not sure. If the Hero is there, you'll know. Ghalia, you especially be careful. Something about him makes you bloodthirsty and furious... and prone to making stupid decisions. Even if he looks weak, watch out for his sword."

"Wait, why especially me? Are you saying all Towd just go smashing through the battlefield?"

Reina smirked. "Not all Towd, but you definitely do." She grew more serious as she turned to glance at Celivia. "It wouldn't have any effect on me if I seinrage, right?"

"Probably not," Celivia said, "but don't let yourself loose too early. Did you really feel nothing when we fought in Aryabaus's tower?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary, but I might not be as sensitive as you."

All Celivia could do was shake her head, unsure. She loved sein because as abstract and beautiful as it could be, she could come to understand it fully. But the Hero's certainty revealed only shadows of doubt, casting her own mind in uncertain shades.

Rejoining her friends had been a welcome reprieve, but now Celivia found herself thinking over a less comfortable thought. "If the Hero is out there, I don't know who will be with him. But there's a good chance he'll have strong warriors fighting alongside him."

Ghalia struck the butt of her axe on the floor. "We can do the same thing to them as we do to him."

"That's just it. There are several of them that I would... prefer that you try to capture, if possible." She went on to describe Slaten, Tani, Laeri, and Veron. With each moment she explained further, she felt their suspicion tighten around her, but she forced herself to finish. "They aren't truly with him, and they could reveal a great deal about the human Legend. I think the Zeitai would prefer them captured."

"No, I think you want that." Ghalia regarded her with narrow eyes. "I still think you shouldn't have taken that assignment, Celi, even if it was for a Zeitai. Undergoing a human-stained rebirth like that, much less staying in it for so long... that does something to you."

"My request stands. Please." Celivia refused to back down, staring directly back into Ghalia's eyes. Eventually her friend cracked a smile.

"You sound pretty emotional about it. This is personal, isn't it? You want to fuck the one with the amazing tits?"

Celivia scoffed, covering her relief. "I described no such thing."

"My vivid imagination filled in the gaps."

"If you mean Veron, I was objectively describing her features so that you would recognize her. You should know that I'm not usually interested in such women." Celivia inclined her head toward Reina and immediately regretted it. Normally something like that would pass easily between friends, but Reina watched her quietly. She had been watching ever since Celivia began describing the humans.

The uncomfortable pause was interrupted when their door slammed open and, surprisingly, Jeraeli entered. She barely even glanced at the other two, advancing directly to Celivia.

"I just received word that there's been an attack on an outpost. A small group of humans on the Portantese side of the border. Do you think the Hero would do something that reckless?"

"That... I'm not sure." Celivia tried to catch up, not having even known that Jeraeli was present. "My experience doesn't give me some magical sense of him."

"This is serious, Celivia." Jeraeli stepped even closer, eyes hard. "I have a Voidwalker prepared, ready to take a small group of elites. If we strike at the right time, we can be the ones who did what the Zeitai wanted instead of waiting around at the border. But if we strike wrong, we won't get another chance."

"This isn't an official strike, is it? If you have critical information, shouldn't you let the whole garrison attack?"

"There's no time for that. We'll lose all our advantages by the time they decide what to do. I need an answer. Now."

Celivia took a deep breath and closed her eyes, but she felt nothing, not even an impulse in her gut. All she had were memories of Melal, which led her to her answer. "Yes, the Hero would do something that reckless. Probably more. I can't guarantee that this report is him, b-"

"Then we have to take the chance. We won't get another." Jeraeli finally turned to face Reina and Ghalia. "You're Celivia's reinforcements, I take it? If you're strong, you're welcome to come along with us."

They nodded and rose to their feet, leaving behind their packs in exchange for their weapons. Celivia filled with doubt as they left the room and joined Jeraeli's other chosen warriors, her concerns threatening to spill from her mouth. There was a good chance that it meant nothing, yet she also remembered how the Hero had drawn people to him. Even after years...

When the Voidwalker finally arrived, the group gathered quickly and disappeared into emptiness. This was a simple trip compared to the world-spanning twisting she had experienced recently, just a quick jump over part of one nation. Yet when they arrived, Celivia immediately reeled and clutched her head.

They stood in an empty field, not even within sight of the fortress. She could hear the sounds of combat, but they were faint and could have been any battle. Logically, she knew only that they were following a rumor.

But she knew.

Chapter 35

-

"Supplies decreasing, shortfalls increasing. Proper steel is a thing of the past. For all that the nobles talk about waging a campaign against the raiders, they aren't supporting it. Reports of Hero increasing, but vague. If they get worse, we'll be crushed between the raiders and the desert. If human Wahleen somehow turns against us, we will be completely isolated."

- report by Quartermaster Fuleen

-

Tani took a deep breath, inhaling every fragment of the battle clashing around her. She had grown accustomed to smelling mint to warn her of danger, but that might as well have been stumbling around in the dark compared to this. Though she couldn't feel the entire battlefield as if it was her own body, she tasted the flow of sein, smelled the movements of bodies, and felt the weight of every attack.

Any strength she had gained paled in comparison to her new awareness. An archer took aim and she was already stepping away from the arrow's path. A powerful mansthein rushed her from the side and she knew just how to intercept him, her thrown knife striking him on the chest and sending him stumbling into a group of errants. When a weaker soldier attempted to strike her from behind, she knew that she need only chop her sickle knife into his neck to drop him. Some of those around her slipped in the snow and ice littering the battlefield, but she avoided every patch.

Attempting to use threads of sein might throw off the balance, so Tani simply focused on her senses. Many of her opponents were merely soldiers with limited training, making her sickle knife more than enough. While dispatching another, she had the presence of mind to consider the state of the battlefield.

Some of the most powerful from both sides still fought on the battlements while Melal led a vicious attack within the gate. She didn't want to enter the chaos around Melal, but normally she might have helped the others. Instead, she became aware of a new movement of soldiers, attempting to flank the main body assaulting the fortress. That was where she could make the most difference.

Two mansthein came rushing at her, screaming, and Tani killed both in one spinning movement. Compared to the opponents she normally faced, they might as well have been walking and their bodies could barely slow her blade. She finished her spin, orienting herself toward the next power she felt...

And saw Celivia across the battlefield.

Rage eclipsed everything else. Tani raised her sickle knife and in another heartbeat she felt Celivia meet her gaze. She saw the guilt there, but it was too late. Without taking her eyes away from the other woman, Tani kicked another soldier out of her path.

"Tani!" Slaten's voice tugged at her attention and she turned furiously.

With her next breath she realized what had happened. Melal had pushed into the fortress, but he had left the men with him behind. The Bloodskin men now fell back from a Catai and several warriors. She would have turned aside and let them die, but there were several errants trapped against the fortress wall, heavily injured. Not raiders, only young warriors attempting to do what they believed was right.

Slaten saw the crisis, but he hadn't seen Celivia. Tani turned away, rushing to face the new force. She heard him call after her. Once, then only her heart pounding in her ears.

Though she rushed through the battle, she didn't do so recklessly. Her calm awareness of the currents around her had become a storm of fury. She let it carry her away from blows, past warriors who would slow her down, and toward Celivia. The Deathspawn waited atop a ridge, apart from the rest of the battle, as if she wanted the fight.

With a single leap, Tani reached the edge of the ridge, finally facing the woman who had betrayed her. Though Celivia pretended to stand down, she kept her hands on her weapons. "Tani, please listen to me. There's more going on h-"

"There's always something more!" Tani hurled one of her throwing knives savagely, feeling a rush as Celivia was forced to duck aside. "Who did you betray for this one?"

"Don't do this." Celivia deflected the next throw with her own knife.

"Why shouldn't I? You never even apologized!"

"Tani, I'm s-"

She launched herself forward with everything she had, sein coursing hotly through her body. All four of her senses dissolved into a single rush as she lashed out repeatedly.

Celivia finally uncurled her whip, flicking it to counter the attack. Tani tried to hook it with her sickle knife, but the blades leapt away, propelled by Celivia's sein. It could have gone for her face. With a flood of new rage Tani realized that Celivia was still trying to capture her, to overpower her and force her to accept that her betrayal had been right.

As they traded blows, Tani's fury became icy. The fact that Celivia held back was a weakness that could be exploited. Tani hurled another knife directly at her opponent's face, leaving her arm open. Celivia immediately stepped in, her whip spinning to wrap around her arm without the blades biting deep.

So slow compared to her true attacks. Tani thrust her sickle knife toward Celivia's face with everything she had.

Celivia dodged low and back, but the blade passed just past her head. Tani's thrust cut through some of her hair and the tie that bound it. Wisps of silver drifted away as Celivia's hair uncoiled from her head, tumbling around her shoulders. That shimmering hair that had once been pale blond, falling in the way she had found so beautiful.

Tani screamed and launched herself forward.

Unprepared for Tani's new reserves of sein, Celivia was completely taken off guard. One bashing strike knocked her whip from her hand, and though she drew a second horned knife, she was still giving ground. She managed to avoid any strikes to the body, but Tani had never been intending to actually strike her there.

Instead she used her free hand to grasp Celivia's hair.

The other woman froze in shock and Tani grinned, making a fist around the silvery locks. With that firm grip, she prepared to jerk her opponent's head back and strike...

Pain screamed across her hand.

Only instinct allowed Tani to leap away as Celivia attempted to grab her legs. Tani skidded back, nearly going over the side of the ridge. When she stared down at her hand, she realized that it was covered in narrow lacerations. When she tried to flex it, blood welled in the cuts and pain shot down her arm. Holding a knife would be completely impossible.

She stared up at Celivia, realizing that even the beauty of her hair had been a trap. When Tani lifted her sickle knife to engage in battle, this time she didn't scream.

~ ~ ~

Though Slaten could barely prevent the chaos of the battle from overwhelming him, he could control none of it. He heard a fight just behind him, but didn't have time to turn and look. To his right, several Bloodskin warriors fell back, and he could have assisted them. To his left, several soldiers struggled against one another and he could have ended their fight in a heartbeat.

Yet he was only one man and could do so little.

Hesitating would mean the deaths of others, so he pushed himself toward the struggle directly in front of him. His only thought was his commitment to defend those who might make a difference. For whatever reason, Tani had plunged into the new wave of mansthein instead of joining him, so he was the only one who could help.

Several errants had fallen in the counter-attack, and several more lay against the fortress wall. One of them had lost her helm, blood pouring down the side of her face. She was just a girl, not someone who should be fighting on a battlefield like this.

Slaten arrived behind the soldiers attacking her and cut them down in two quick strokes, but that meant nothing. They had all been pushed there by the Catai, who now advanced on them. Though he instinctively checked for other warriors, Slaten realized that there was no one there. Only a few crowds of soldiers and the two of them.

When the Catai tried to brush him aside with a massive horizontal sweep, Slaten went low and deflected it over his head. That should have been his moment to reverse his grip and use the hammer stroke, but instead his body automatically slashed. His sword cut a red line across the Catai's muscular side, hardly a crippling wound.

Now the Catai rounded on him, taking him seriously for the first time: there would be no more easy blows. As the Catai charged at him, Slaten gave ground, redirecting the force of the strikes to either side. Once, his body would have screamed at him with each deflection, but now it continued to move smoothly. His opponent's sein remained overpowering, but his body could keep up with his mind.

He made an effort to strike back with a thrust, but the Catai smashed it directly down. Slaten only barely pulled his sword back and leaned away from the next lashing horizontal blow. Such broad movements should have left his opponent open, but the Catai swung his maul so swiftly...

Powerful sein rampaged toward them. Slaten's eyes shifted, but his opponent's didn't. He realized that the Catai was tougher than him and maybe even faster, but he rushed forward without thought, trusting that he could overwhelm those who stood before him.

Two battling warriors plunged from the roof of the fortress, interrupting their fight. Slaten hadn't known exactly what it was, he'd simply moved to the side to prepare. He was momentarily taken aback, though he continued moving, when he saw Melal trading blows with a reddish Catai wider than he was tall. Both had lost their weapons, they simply slammed fists into one another. It seemed that Melal was getting the worst of it, yet he endured.

The sudden disruption made the Catai hesitate, staring at the new fight and trying to figure out what to do. Slaten had no such hesitation. He had been moving even before the other fighters arrived, and now he cut into his opponent's arm.

With a roar of pain, the Catai struck back. Slaten ducked the clumsy one-handed swipe, but the Catai's shoulder slammed into him the next moment. He flew back, struck the fortress wall, and dropped.

To his feet. Though his chest ached, Slaten realized with surprise that his focus hadn't wavered. He might not be able to keep taking blows like that, but he didn't need to. His opponent was down to one arm now, rushing at him with another of those broad horizontal swings.

Slaten deflected the maul, and though it nearly pushed through his block, he used that momentum to spin his sword. Grasping the blade with both hands, Slaten focused his sein into a dull sphere and brought the pommel against the side of his opponent's head as hard as he could.

The Catai fell like a great tree, roots failing as it thundered to the frozen ground.

For a moment Slaten hesitated, his fingers still locked tightly around the sharp edges of his blade. Yet the Catai had actually fallen. There was no visible injury on the side of his head, but his eyes stared at nothing.

"You... saved us." The girl was silent, but the boy at her side watched him with wide eyes. "We owe you a great debt."

"Pay it by making me proud that I saved you." His response sounded weak to his ears, yet he saw them smile as if encouraged. It was only a moment, but he felt that his new purpose had some weight.

Yet there was no time to celebrate, because that Catai had not even been the largest threat. While he fought, the wider Catai seemed to have battered Melal down to his knees. Worse than that, the mansthein on one end of the battlements had regrouped and now prepared to loose arrows down on vulnerable targets.

Slaten raised a hand and released a burst of sein, sending one of the archers tumbling over the other side of the battlements. Several Bloodskins and errants rushed from the side, engaging them, so he turned his attention to the large Catai standing over Melal, raising his weapon.

His burst of sein dissipated off the Catai's back. The man didn't even turn.

Just before the blow could land, Patule leapt from the battlements, digging two long knives into the Catai's neck. It should have been enough, yet the Catai only grunted and reached up to grab the Bloodkin's head. Patule struggled, trying to tear his knives out, but the Catai slammed him to the ground with a crunch.

Again, being able to track the flow of the battle became only a curse. Melal had dragged himself free, but Patule lay prone, possibly dead. Several errants had formed a desperate defense against the wall of the fortress, pressed by mansthein warriors. Further away, Bloodskin warriors retreated from the mansthein reinforcements, several of them falling.

At best, he could help one of them with his fading strength. Slaten only gripped his sword tighter.

~ ~ ~

Every time Celivia deflected another of Tani's strikes, her resolve weakened. The other woman's attacks were heavier with sein than before, but that was nothing compared to the weight of hatred in each one. Celivia sought the razor focus she had achieved in her fight with Slaten and failed to grasp it.

She had used her hair in combat only three times in her life. The first two had felt satisfying, and once it had even won her the fight. This time, though it left one of Tani's hands lacerated and unusable, it only filled her with revulsion. This hadn't been what she wanted.

If she cast down her weapons, would Tani strike to kill? Or would she finally listen? Celivia truly did not know, so when Tani next lunged out with her blade, Celivia only deflected it again.

They could have continued to fight for some time. Tani's sein had deepened since they last met, but Celivia had improved as well. Though she was better suited to a fight at close quarters, Celivia's heaviness prevented her from overpowering the other woman. How it would have ended remained uncertain.

But that didn't matter, because at that moment Ghalia leapt onto the ledge.

Tani whirled immediately, stabbing for Ghalia's stomach. The blade might have turned aside, but Celivia didn't give it a chance: her whip lashed out and this time snagged the sickle of Tani's weapon, jerking it from her hands. Then Ghalia's enormous arms closed around her, one around Tani's neck and the other around her waist.

"This the one?" Ghalia grunted as Tani thrashed and kicked back at her tree trunk legs, but the smaller woman had no leverage to use her sein effectively, not against a Catai in that position. "You make life a lot harder, Celi."

"Don't hurt her." Celivia took a deep breath, sparing a glance to the rest of the battle before looking back to Tani.

"Seems like she wanted to hurt you."

Even now, Tani glared at Celivia, who had to look away. "She has her reasons. This isn't the time to talk, Tani, so we'll need to-"

The war cry reached them a split second before the attack. Raiders erupted from the trees, escalating from silence in the time it took them to emerge. Several hacked at Ghalia, who grunted and released Tani. One swung at Celivia, but she reacted on instinct, driving one duusha horn knife into his eye and another into his neck.

As she let down the corpse, she realized that it was a human raider, but not dressed like those with Melal. More of them attacked below, hitting the flank of Jeraeli's reinforcements and turning the tide of battle. Victory was now in doubt, and Tani had escaped, yet Celivia found herself staring below.

It couldn't be...

~ ~ ~

The rush of the attack had driven Tani off the edge of the ridge against her will. She had needed to escape the monstrous Catai, one of Celivia's real allies, and then the raiders had forced her away. They had attacked in a howling rush, charging so wildly that she feared that they would kill her if she remained in their way.

So she stood below the ridge, with only a throwing knife in her uninjured hand. All around her, the new raiders rushed into the battle, driving the mansthein back. She should have joined them and taken advantage of the confusion, but she couldn't, instead searching the ridge.

Instead of Celivia, she found a familiar Coran woman, now draped in cloths of varying colors.

"Come on, kid!" Veron grinned at her, waving an arm for her to follow. "We'll get you out of this yet!"

Tani ignored her, still watching the ridge. Finally she saw a whisper of silver and began to run automatically. Celivia stood there, that Catai beside her, a monstrous perversion of a woman. It didn't matter. A new Deathspawn appeared, this one short and filled with sein that made Tani feel as though her arm was breaking. She'd cut through them all.

"Tani!" Someone's arms closed around her, binding her before she could run. She tried to strike before realizing it was Slaten, but he knew her too well, holding her back.

Above, Celivia gave them a disgustingly sorrowful glance and then she began to retreat. Tani let out another yell, struggling to follow, but she had exhausted herself and couldn't escape Slaten's grip.

She wanted to hate him too, but she knew that he was right. With one arm injured and most of her weapons lost, she couldn't win against Celivia, much less all the other mansthein. Even if she had somehow overwhelmed them, they would no doubt simply retreat again. Her moment had passed and she had failed to grasp it.

Tani sank down to her knees, still staring at the empty ridge.

~ ~ ~

He had seen only a glimpse of Celivia, surrounded by allies. In that moment, Slaten had been sure that she had seen him, yet she had turned away. Given how Tani had raged, he understood. His heart ached at the hatred he had felt from her, yet he could do nothing.

Now they retreated rapidly, borne on the strength of Veron's raiders. Though the mansthein had taken a serious blow and lost many warriors, Melal's group had also been bloodied. Melal might have urged them to fight on, but he was barely conscious, half-dragged by several loyal Bloodskins. Their only hope was to retreat far enough to recover, then escape before the mansthein could retaliate.

Though he should have helped with the retreat, Slaten focused solely on Tani. First he stayed close to prevent her from throwing her life away, then he awkwardly hoped that he could do something to help her. But when she looked at him and he saw her bitter tears, he realized that his abilities were again useless.

Someone, perhaps one of the remaining errants, had led the group into a narrow valley between two hills. There, those who had survived nursed their wounds or aided those who could not.

The errants assisted one another well, even those who were numb or injured. One of the younger errants appeared to have gone into seinshock, but they were treating him with soothing words and a heated cloth over his face. Whether or not it would be effective, they clearly cared for their own.

On the other hand, many of the Bloodskins he saw would die. Those with lesser injuries would soon heal, but those who could not follow the retreat were as good as dead. Someone had taken Patule with them, but his neck was deeply purple and it seemed he was bleeding internally.

"Slaten, what do I do?" Laeri appeared beside him, hands fluttering on her staff, eyes staring over the injuries. "There are so many... there are... they teach us how to choose those we can save... but that would be so cruel! I can't choose who lives and who dies!"

He had no strength left for her, but somehow Slaten put a hand on her shoulder. "Calm down and think, Laeri. What do you want?"

"I want to save everyone!" After her outburst, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "But... I can't. I don't want to choose who not to save, but I will. Just... please help me start, Slaten. Tell me who's most important."

"That..." He stared at her, not wanting to make that choice. Yet he realized that his sword was still stained with blood from all the choices he had previously made and found that he could. "Start with Patule. He's the most powerful warrior who you can save."

Laeri nodded with surprising vehemence and knelt down beside the Bloodskin. After placing her hands on his temples for a time, she nodded to herself. "Yes, he'll live. He... he was never a very nice person, but he deserves to live. All I need to do is repair the worst of the internal bleeding and his body will do the rest."

"Good. That's good. Once he's better, ask the errants if they have anyone who needs a healer. Help as many as you can before we retreat."

Slaten took a step back and then a moment just to breathe. Having Laeri apply herself to the injured would save many and make it easier for them to retreat, so perhaps he could begin worrying about retreating effectively. If they led the mansthein armies to Torgaadi and brought violence to that town...

"You're still alive!" Veron appeared beside him, grinning madly. Though Slaten found his face matching hers, he was too hollow to feel the expression.

"Hello, Veron. Are these your raiders?"

"You could say that. I was with the Earthbreakers for a time, and helped with their truly idiotic vendetta against the Earthcrushers. Earthsmashers? Earthsquishers? Whatever... the dreams just got worse... and I couldn't let you kids die on your own, could I? So I got some of them to follow me, and it seems I arrived just in time."

"Thank you."

"Don't be such a wet blanket, Slaten." Veron leaned on his shoulder, then pulled back slightly. "My, you're not so scrawny anymore. If I didn't know better, I'd say that you stole some of the raiders' arts. Something like that?"

"You could say that." This time he did smile. Veron promptly punched him in the ribs.

"You'd better have fucked some Bloodskin girl instead of just sitting around and acting noble."

Usually he was at a loss against Veron's relentless impropriety, yet this time Slaten realized that something immediately came to mind. "If you come back with the group, you'll hear us."

"Ha!" Veron actually did seem a bit surprised, pulling back. She looked down and then frowned, reaching toward the weapon he'd forgotten hung at his belt. "Since when do you use one of these?"

"This... is Tani's weapon. I thought..." Slaten fell silent and looked toward where she sat at the edge of the field. Someone had bandaged her hand, yet as she stared at nothing, she tore at the wraps. They were mostly shredded, so coated with new blood that they fell in crimson fragments all around her.

"Yeah... maybe don't give a weapon to her just yet." Veron said it lightly, but there was no more room for jests. Slaten remained silent, expecting her to leave him now that she couldn't tease him, but she waited wordlessly at his side.

Just when he thought the tension would become too much, Melal appeared beside them. He grinned, not the bright smile of the Hero but the broad grin from long ago. His expression was made more absurd by the fact that he had only bloody holes in place of several of his teeth. Slaten felt certain that at some point in the future, those teeth would somehow return.

"Slaten, Veron, come help me convince these errants. We could turn this into a victory, they just need to see reason."

"How could this be a victory?" Slaten asked. Not that it mattered.

Melal only raised a finger for him to be silent, and when he left, Slaten followed. They walked over several injured bodies to a cluster of three errants. All had removed their helms and spoke to one another with grim expressions.

"You're only alive thanks to her." Melal pointed at Veron as he approached. "All I'm asking is that you make sure this wasn't in vain. Our goal was to draw the Deathspawn away from the mine. This was a good start, even if we couldn't beat them all. We just need to finish it."

Once, that might have been enough to sway them. But Melal was bruised and less than glorious, and the errants looked too weary for heroics. An older man turned to them and spoke in a heavy voice. "This has already gone too far. Even if the Deathspawn controlled it, the outpost was part of the treaty with Wahleen."

"Don't be absurd! They shed Portantese blood on Portantese soil! Who cares about any specific treaty? If we strike at the border now, we'll completely draw away all their forces."

"That's impossible. They control the border." All the other errants joined him, piling on objections. Slaten looked between them, wondering if he wanted to make a difference. At the least, he could search for clarity. In a pause, Slaten asked the question Melal was ignoring.

"Why did you say that Wahleen controls the border?"

The lead errant turned to him quickly, relieved at a question he found reasonable. "It is a matter of rank. Portant's greatest Steelmasters wait in the south at Sangaad and in the north, placed to defend our forests and the end of the Santiid river. Here in the center, the balance is uneven."

"What does that mean?" Melal demanded.

"We lack Ironlords on the border, while they have normal numbers. Worse, at our local position, we have only two Steeljudges, whereas they are known to have at least five. Any conflict at the border is impossible for us, and we should be grateful they do not press their advantage."

"Nonsense! This border is just a line on a map, right?"

"It is more than that. The armies themselves form the line, and they have dug trenches, erected fortificat-"

"And you're saying there's absolutely nothing that could be done to throw them back?"

"Well..." The errant hesitated, but eventually answered. "Both sides rely on their supply chains. If we could burn their supply bases, it would force them to retreat to better supplied territory. It would be only temporary, but the Deathspawn would no doubt retaliate."

Melal raised a finger triumphantly. "Then there's your answer! All you need to do is burn their bases."

"If... if the Hero were to join the battlefield, perhap-"

"No, I need to travel north to claim my destiny. Did the fight addle your wits? The entire purpose of that attack would be to draw the Deathspawn away from Portant. Just send the soldiers you have available."

All three errants stared at him before one of the women spoke. "Did you hear? They outrank us badly. Our soldiers would have no chance, and none of our Steeljudges could burn their supplies and live."

"Always arguing over ranks, never seeing any true potential." Melal shook his head, for a moment lightening the world around him. "Here in the north, you are blinded by your traditions. So what if their warriors are given better names? Yours will be walking on the path of the Legend itself! The glory of your purpose will ensure your victory!"

Though the errants stared at Melal, Slaten had no idea if his speech had any impact. It certainly seemed unlikely that he could overturn generations of tradition, especially in his current state. Before they could argue further, some of Veron's raiders returned, urging everyone that they needed to abandon those who could not run and escape before the mansthein found them.

Thoughts of war on the eastern border slipped from Slaten's mind. If anything did occur, it was beyond his power to affect it. What he could do was make sure that Melal did not bring war back to Olondris and Mantyos. He could ensure that Laeri was not left behind and that as many survived as they could.

First he could give Tani back her knife.

~ ~ ~

Some celebrated below, yet Celivia only sat on top of the fortress and stared out over the hills of Portant. In the dark, lit only by the light of a few fires, they appeared as depthless masses, endless folds of shadow that could contain anything.

Her friends had joined her, and Ghalia had tried to celebrate at first before surrendering to Celivia's grim mood. The healer from Jeraeli's cohort had assisted their entire group before he grew exhausted, so none of them retained any injuries. That had nothing to do with the pain Celivia felt.

"Celi..." Reina spoke up quietly, watching her from her seat nearby. "Why go so far for that human? You saw how she hates you."

"But she doesn't need to." Celivia sighed and ran her hands through her hair. She should have bound it back on her head, yet that felt wrong somehow. "If events had fallen slightly differently, she could be our ally. I don't just mean against the Hero, I mean against Zeitai Kreue and the Senate and everyone else who stands against us."

Ghalia merely grunted. "You always overthink these things. I'm the last person who would tell you that all humans are bad, but it doesn't work that way. Even if she forgave you, she's not going to join any of your grand causes."

Celivia expected such dismissals and ignored them, but Reina's gaze continued to pierce her. "Is that what you see, Celi? You look at her and imagine a future where you fight together?"

The implication was obvious and Celivia remained silent. There was nothing she could say, not to Reina. Besides, her answer was irrelevant. Tani hated her with a raw bitterness that Celivia reserved for only the worst of her targets.

An uncomfortable silence between old friends was hardly insurmountable, yet it did sit between them, growing. Celivia knew that she should say something and found nothing, her thoughts instead trapped with the humans. If she had been able to speak to Slaten... would he attempt to convince Tani of her intentions? He hadn't before... though she regretted that thought, since she wondered if anyone could staunch Tani's fury.

Instead of finding any revelation, Celivia remained silent until they were interrupted. Jeraeli walked up to the roof beside them, utterly untouched in the aftermath. With not a piece of jewelry or lock of hair out of place, she looked entirely improper on the rough fortress, yet she walked as if she owned the stone beneath her feet.

"This was a good start, Celivia." She smiled at all three of them, then walked to stand at the edge of the roof and looked over the battleground, dirt and blood marring the snow. "The Zeitai wanted to fight the Hero, but encountering him is better than nothing. We look like good soldiers, while so many others sat on their hands elsewhere."

"Many died in this battle." Celivia wasn't sure why she said it, and Jeraeli only shook her head sadly.

"It is tragic that they died for so little, but that only means that it is up to us to make their deaths have some meaning. We just might get that chance. We may have lost the Hero for now, but the Zeitai has apparently learned something from all the proclamations he made across Portant. There is a target that cannot simply slip away from us."

Celivia looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"

"It seems that to complete the Legend, the Hero must speak with someone called the Sage of Mount Tmil. They say that is in the Sotunn Mountains... have you heard of him?"

"Maybe a few rumors. Mount Tmil lies west of where I was stationed."

"That is... another complication." Jeraeli turned back to them, giving Celivia a sad look. "I gave you full credit for your help here, but there are still some who are unhappy with how long you left your post. Even though I wanted you to take part in the war against the Sage, others blocked me. They say that you cannot participate unless you complete your assignment."

For the first time that night, Celivia felt that a problem lay within her grasp. She glanced at Reina, then Ghalia, then she rose. "It seems we need to take one more trip."

Chapter 36

-

"Having proclaimed the truth, the Zeitai struck down all of the pretty birds and executed the liars who had raised them. And he told Fasn that this was to be his first lesson: that to cheat sein is to cheat your own strength."

- Feinan version of The Zeitai's Egg

-

Of all the times Celivia had arrived at Sotfaal, this was undoubtedly the strangest. It might be a relatively small fortress, but it still contained more than a full cohort. Yet when she arrived along with Reina and Ghalia, their presence meaningfully increased the fighting potential of the outpost. Unila stepped away from them, but it seemed this time she didn't have any official business.

"This counts as your favor." Unila rubbed her forehead sourly. "A lot more than one favor, but you got me started on this mess."

"I'm sorry if I pushed too much, but your help will save my entire band." Celivia attempted a smile, and to her surprise the Voidwalker smiled back.

"You seem to be fighting alongside rising stars and focused on work the Zeitai cares about. For once, a favor might get me one in return someday." She disappeared in a rush of wind.

For a time they stood silently on the Voidwalker platform, then Ghalia stepped out to look over Sotfaal. "Well, this looks like a little shithole."

"And the two of you will help me escape it." Celivia jerked her head at them as she headed toward the stairs. "Come on, let's not waste time."

As they left the fortress, Celivia wondered yet again exactly how the meeting with her band would go. Part of her did want to see them again, despite the emotions wrung from her by her friends and the humans. But it would be a trial preventing Reina from killing anyone, and she wasn't sure how they'd react to Ghalia. She wondered just what Splinters would do when he saw the three of them.

Outside the fortress, she discovered that Ghasfik and Krafan waited. Ghasfik merely eyed her new companions and nodded, while Krafan smiled broadly. "Celivia! We were beginning to think you'd forgotten about us."

"I hope you haven't forgotten your training," she said, "because I need you to fight with me. We have reinforcements, but not for long, so we need to end the Lowstep clan quickly."

"There are two others, Kaen." Ghasfik levered himself to his feet and bowed before he led them into Sotfaal. "They arrived a few days ago and said they were looking for you. They seemed rather unhappy that you weren't here, so you'd better talk to them quick."

"If they're from Ith Silvaros, then they're also reinforcements. I'll talk to them, so bring everyone together as quickly as you can."

She quickly discovered that Elanian had kept his promise by sending her two of his Catai. The first was a standard Towd named Vularagh, except that he had silver hair in the Seinan style. The second was smaller but more dangerous, a lean Seinan man named Antaliel in the traditional Seirios Catai form. Both of them wanted to be away from Breilin as soon as possible, but they would cooperate.

Fijn had been talking with the two Catai, and they met Huthur on the way back. Most of the others she discovered in their usual bar, though they sat at a table with Ghalia, laughing at some joke. Celivia had to swallow a sour smile as she saw how quickly the band seemed to accept her and tried to focus on the fact that they would work together easily.

Only Splinters was absent, and when he entered, his eyes leapt from Ghalia, to Celivia, to Reina glaring back at him. He spat onto the floor, but didn't leave.

Though they all spent some time carousing, Celivia found herself distant from it, focusing on strategy. She accepted drinks, habitually guarding against poison and keeping herself sober. Eventually when everyone was relaxed but not too drunk to remember anything, she made them all get up and move to the bar's only private room.

"Some of you are familiar with the Lowsteps, some of you aren't." She wasn't sure if the flattery would reach her band, but she was more concerned about the Catai from Ith Silvaros taking their assignment seriously. "The human raiding clans follow a path that gives them unusually large numbers of warriors equivalent to a fourth class or third class."

"They're damn tough." She hadn't wanted Brifik's contribution, but let him talk. He slurred as he gestured at the Catai. "They have some big, big mean ones. Big bovals." This made him giggle for some reason and Celivia decided to simply nod in acceptance of his point.

"He's correct, they have warriors comparable to a base Catai. They have no hierarchy but brute strength, so we can safely assume their chieftain is the strongest. Unfortunately, I've never encountered him directly to gauge his capabilities, and he has at least two strong subordinates still alive."

"So we can take them." Ghalia lowered her axe to the floor and leaned on it. "Direct assault?"

"If we do, they might scatter into the mountains, and we can't afford to bring other clans into this. No, I think this would work best with multiple strikes: as many small engagements as we can manage, weakening them without revealing our strength, then a final blow when they come in force."

Fijn sat forward, eyeing her. "With all due respect, Kaen, what exactly is our role in this? Seems like you've gathered your own band."

"You have a critical role: the Lowsteps know you, and they think they can take you."

"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me..."

She smiled as her band groaned. "I'm afraid so. This time you get to be the bait."

~ ~ ~

Around her, the others laughed and ate and talked as if nothing had changed. Tani stared down at her hand, feeling the tension of all five of her knives hanging from it. One of the knives began to tremble as her focus wavered and she reinforced the thread of sein that bound it to her. Whenever she flexed her hand, the knives chimed against each other.

Strangely, Laeri was the only one who seemed to take the battle as seriously as she did. For the first several nights, she had wept in her bed, crying over those she hadn't been able to save. Though Tani wanted to comfort her, she had only managed a few weak embraces and eventually Laeri's tears had stopped on their own.

Slaten took the combat seriously, diving deep into his training, but Slaten... they would need to talk.

The rest of the house floated only at the edge of her mind. Since Melal was asleep and the raiders had set up their own camp outside Torgaadi, it was a small group. With the fire burning in the forge, it should have been warm. At that moment, she was distantly aware that Slaten was walking to Olondris.

"The raiders will attract more attention," Slaten was saying. "It's only a matter of time before someone connects them to the attack."

"You might think such, but that is not our way." As before, Olondris seemed insistent on standing apart from everything related to the Hero. "The attackers will be viewed as agents of a nation, and retaliation will apply against the nation."

"Are you confident the mansthein will think the same way?"

"We have contingencies, if Torgaadi is truly attacked."

Though Tani tried to force the conversation to fade from her mind, she could only focus on her knives for a short time before she was abruptly slapped on the back. Several threads snapped, sending her knives clattering to the floor. Tani glared up at Veron, who raised her eyebrows.

"Well, I didn't know that saving your life was worth that kind of hate."

"I'm sorry, Veron." She managed a smile, though she wasn't sure how. "I just have a lot on my mind."

"Oh, I know. I heard about Celivia. The two of us drank together, I really thought w-"

"Veron."

"Fine." The older woman abandoned the subject and instead showed her a band of metal. "They gave me this after making me fondle their weird stick. Said I was a Peak Ironlord or something."

Glad for any distraction, Tani quickly retrieved her own pin. "They rank everyone's strength here. I'm a Peak Ironlord too."

"You what?" Veron actually looked taken aback, so much so that Tani wondered if she should be offended. "That doesn't make any damn sense."

"Yes, it does." Olondris spoke from across the room, entering their conversation without the slightest hesitation. Veron immediately turned on her, hand on her sword.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"You are an exceptionally uneven warrior. A few of your strengths are on par with mine. But some of your weaknesses are weaker than these children."

"I'll show y-" Veron cut off with her sword partway out of her sheath, because there was a pike pointed at her neck. The clothes of everyone between them and several pieces of paper swept after the wind the movement had created, though Tani was more impressed with how confidently Olondris had swung such a long weapon inside a crowded room.

"Our hospitality is extended to you solely because of them." Olondris withdrew her pike and set it beside her, still as calm as when the conversation began. "But do not take liberties, and I will not permit you to misguide them."

"Permit me to fucking misguide?" Veron shoved her sword back into its sheath and stormed to the door. "I don't need your charity, I can just stay with the Earthbreakers. At least with a name like that they don't get uppity about everything."

All other conversation had died as she left, leaving silence as the door slammed behind her. After some time, Mantyos set aside his bowl and walked back to his anvil.

"Well... perhaps I should hurry with my gifts for you all, hmm?"

Laeri laughed, but Tani just nodded. He might have meant it as some mild jest, but he was correct. It was impossible to know if Celivia would attack or if Melal would lead them to assault the mine. She was grateful that Mantyos intended to forge her a new set of knives, but at the moment her gratitude lay very thin.

She saw Slaten rise and chose that moment to leave. As she escaped the warmth of the house, she felt him pursue her. Giving up, she waited in the small garden outside until he emerged as well. They stood in the chill for a time before he finally broke the first of many silences.

"I spoke with Veron. She convinced the Earthbreaker clan to join her by offering them targets in Portant. I don't know when they intend to strike, or if they already have, but they will likely invite retaliation from errants."

"Why ask me? She's more likely to listen to you."

"I am... not sure if that is true."

Tani sighed and rubbed her face, accepting that he made a good point. As much as his neutrality infuriated her, he continued to consider everything while she became too focused. "I can try to talk to her, but I don't know if she'll listen to me. Veron might like us, but she doesn't care about the same things. I think she's still the bandit she was, before the Heroes."

"Perhaps." Slaten sighed and leaned back against the wall beside her. "So much is beyond our control, but I feel like I should at least be able to influence Veron. In the end, though, she still views us as apprentices, and that limits how much she will ever listen to us."

"You should fuck her. That would do it."

Slaten stared, then exhaled sharply. His reaction made Tani laugh, though not for very long. The next silence stretched between them and eventually she spoke very quietly.

"I don't understand how you can forgive Celivia. She lied to us, manipulated us to create a false connection, and then betrayed us at the moment when it would hurt most."

"She wanted to save us."

"To take us back as trophies, you mean." Tani raised a hand to cut off his objection. "She's a soldier helping the Deathspawn armies expand their empire. Whatever you think you had with her, however much she actually might care about us, none of it changes that fact."

"But we're working for a Hero who explicitly wants to kill every mansthein in existence. We worked with the Coran resistance even though they were little more than bandits. Just now, we helped Melal attack a peaceful outpost. I think she wants the same thing we want, she's just never been given any reason to believe that human nations can actually bring about peace."

"And you think the mansthein can?"

He closed his eyes for a time, then looked skyward. It had grown dark during the meal and the blue of his eyes was sometimes as pale as the stars, at others more like the space between. "That seems unlikely. I cannot put any faith in them."

"Then what are you doing?" Tani rounded on him, grabbing the front of his mantle. "If the Hero is terrible and the Zeitai are worse and armies everywhere slaughter each other, what's even the point of fighting?"

"I believe that the Legend demands war." Slaten refused to turn aside even slightly, staring back into her eyes. "I have seen it destroy peace in a way that no warrior can possibly fight, and the Sage claimed that the Zeitai are doing the same thing. If there is any answer, we will need to understand first of all."

"And if there's no answer?"

"I don't know."

The flatness of his voice finally broke her anger. Tani sighed and dropped her forehead against his chest, still gripping his mantle. Only slowly did she let her fingers loosen, then she could look up at him again. "I'm sorry, Slaten. I don't mean to be angry with you, not when you've been reliable ever since Bundlin. But I don't think that you can trust Celivia when you don't even know what she really wants."

"Do you?"

"That..." Tani's mouth filled with responses, but she recognized that they came from the furious part of her heart, not her mind. It was a good question. "It's possible that you're right. But I need to see more proof before I'm willing to hear her out."

"Thank you, Tani." Slaten awkwardly put his hands on her shoulders and looked as though he immediately regretted it, so she reached up to pat one of them.

"No, I should thank you. I've been sulking instead of coming closer to solving any of our problems. I think... I think what I need is to release some frustration. Do you want to beat each other bloody?"

Before he could answer, there was a crash from the second floor of the house. In an instant both of them had their hands on their weapons and their senses extended toward the disturbance. Tani could feel nothing out of the ordinary, but still followed Slaten as he rushed into the house. Everyone there was looking upward as well, and she realized that only Melal had been upstairs.

He jumped down to the first floor wearing only pants and a tunic, his hair messy from sleep. But his eyes shone in a way she had not seen in some time.

"The Sage of Mount Tmil has sent me a dream. He and all the other Sages are under threat. The Zeitai wants to kill them and stop the Legend before it can truly begin."

No one answered for some time until eventually Slaten spoke. "Then do we hurry to find the seal?"

"No, you fool. Finding the seal is useless if we cannot return it to the Sage." Melal rolled his shoulders and smiled a perfect smile. "This will be war, and in all of history, this will be the first war that truly matters."

~ ~ ~

As the campaign against the Lowsteps was Celivia's first assignment in command, she had expected something to go horribly wrong. She had gathered as much strength as she could in the hopes that her allies could make up for her failings and reduce the number of deaths.

Instead, as she woke up in her blankets with the Lowstep numbers running through her mind, Celivia reflected that everything had been too easy. Her band had first fought one brief encounter against some lesser warriors that left Huthur injured. The Lowsteps had sent a larger group after them and that was when their elites had struck, slaughtering them to a man. Now they awaited the village's response, but Celivia estimated that the Lowsteps only had a slight advantage remaining.

In fact, the greatest surprise had taken place before they even finished preparing to leave Sotfaal. Celivia rolled from her blankets, checked that everything was in order, then went out to deal with that surprise.

Across from her tiny canvas tent that only kept the snow off sat a much larger tent. Even camouflaged instead of made from bright fabric, Jeraeli's tent looked luxurious in the mountains. She had arrived unexpectedly bearing supplies and reinforcements, and Celivia wasn't exactly in a position to disagree.

"Jeraeli?" She cautiously leaned in the entrance, searching amid the tangled sheets atop a mattress. But the only person lying in her bed appeared to be a Feras mansthein, who reclined wearing nothing but his luxurious golden fur. Celivia hadn't learned his name, as he hadn't fought and seemed to be present solely to warm Jeraeli's bed.

"She woke up." The Feras sat up slowly, all the muscles of his torso flexing. "I'm not sure where she is."

"Thank you." Celivia pulled her head back out of the tent and almost immediately discovered Jeraeli standing quietly behind her.

"I was just getting in a bit of practice." Jeraeli wore practical if expensive robes, and twirled a pair of sais around her hands to demonstrate. "If I'm going to fight along this group you've gathered, I don't want to fall behind."

"I didn't expect you to support me, to be honest. This assignment..." Celivia trailed off as she realized that she was making an impolite insinuation, but her eyes had already wandered toward the tent. Jeraeli simply laughed and flipped her sais back into her belt.

"Don't worry, Celivia. I don't deny that I enjoy playing the game and I thoroughly enjoy the benefits that come with it. But I've fought on the front lines before, and I never want to forget to help those who have helped me."

"Well, I'm glad you joined us." Celivia touched her arm lightly and smiled. "I'm going to hold you back with me as the last line. We won't have the same shock impact as the others, but I think reinforcements will be needed before the end."

"Then your desire is my command, Kaen Celivia!"

"Start by gathering any of the warriors who are off training. I'll collect the soldiers and we can finish this today."

Throughout the morning, Celivia reviewed the information and briefed her band one more time. Antaliel returned from scouting to confirm that the Lowsteps advanced in force to eliminate the Deathspawn annoyance once and for all. With luck, the reverse would occur.

The only problem was again a trivial one, Big Ragh deciding that it would be a good idea to declare his love for Reina. Celivia shot her friend a hard glance and in the end Big Ragh left only offended, not disemboweled. Otherwise, everyone fell into place. This time, it was her plan from beginning to end. If it failed, the consequences would not be a reprimand, but the deaths of her friends.

Celivia and Jeraeli awaited atop a local peak, hidden by new blinds Huthur had built for late winter. She watched anxiously as her band pretended to make camp in a gentle valley, a good location for an ambush but too pleasant a camp location to ignore. Or at least, that was how she hoped it looked. As time wore on, she began to smell the pottage they cooked, giving her a bizarre flicker of hunger despite the tension.

Then the Lowsteps howled out their attack and Celivia could only watch as everything fell together.

They began hurling their spears as they charged, but her band had at least trained well in basic tactics, dropping down into formation. The human warriors would smash directly through that, but before they could arrive, Ghalia and Vularagh emerged from their hiding places and dealt death all around them.

Two Towd Catai fighting together was a sight few of the raiders had seen before, and it utterly broke their charge. The two didn't fight together effectively, but it didn't matter when Vularagh could shatter bones with a punch and Ghalia's skin shrugged off even many of the warriors' attacks. When Ghalia encountered a stronger human, she used a strange punch of twisted sein that beat against her opponent's defenses until they collapsed.

The only warning was the whistling of more spears, then Celivia realized that the Lowsteps had set up a counter-ambush.

Celivia's heart leapt to her throat and she thought that she might witness the plan fall apart. But though it was too late to issue any more orders, she had held her assets in reserve for just such a reason. Antaliel launched himself from the heights of a nearby tree and intercepted the hail of spears in midair.

It happened in a few heartbeats, but Jeraeli still had time to let out a low whistle. Antaliel caught one of the first spears out of the air and swung it rapidly as he dove into the others. His rapid movements utterly broke the swarm of spears and he even managed to throw two of them back at the Lowstep warriors who now rushed to join the battle.

That had gone better than she had hoped... but Antaliel landed between the two groups of raiders. He thrust a spear directly at the chests of the raiders who charged him, but the humans showed their stamina by rushing into it. A few fell, but they weren't dead, and others continued charging despite the injuries, one eventually catching the spear in his chest.

Though Celivia rose to go assist him, Reina was faster. She flickered through the trees in a completely silent seinrage, cleavers in both hands flying with deadly sein. Her savage movements took limbs and sometimes heads, rendering their unnatural stamina irrelevant.

The Lowsteps couldn't stand against her assault and fell back, but most didn't flee. Pinned by the ferocity of the Catai on one side and Reina on the other, they instead spilled out to the side, which sent them toward her band. Since no more ambushes seemed forthcoming, Celivia leapt to defend them.

If the Towd shattered a charge like a hammer, she and Jeraeli pierced it like a rapier. Several Lowsteps were dead before they realized what had happened, then she was within the group.

Celivia held nothing back, pouring as much sein as she could into each lashing strike of her whip, beating her opponents back. One tried to catch her whip and lost several fingers, stumbling into his companions and screaming in pain. Several others rushed her at the same time, but Jeraeli took them from the side.

The other woman had a surprisingly direct fighting style, despite her flourishes. She sent her sais punching into her opponents' bodies as if they were knives, and if the stabs usually failed to bring the Lowsteps down, she could easily pull them back and stab again. They fell into a rhythm fighting back to back, slowly rotating so that Celivia could keep the majority at bay while Jeraeli finished off those who made it close.

It might have been difficult, but the two of them weren't alone. Celivia's band emerged from their shield formation and began thrusting into the backs of the Lowsteps attempting to swarm her and Jeraeli. The pressure lessened, a few of the Lowsteps began to flee in terror, and the battle was decided as the Catai joined them as well.

"Did we win?" Jeraeli smiled and spun her sais around her hands, looking over the fallen bodies. Ghalia grunted and began to finish off the survivors, while Antaliel approached and nodded to her.

"Perhaps a tenth of them escaped, and it seems they mean to retreat to their village. Do we pursue?"

Ignoring all of them, Celivia instead carefully swept the forested valley for someone else. She spotted Reina almost too late, standing with her gore-covered cleavers hanging limply, her eyes bloodshot.

Even as Celivia started to move, Reina leapt at the group. She hurled herself at Vularagh, who managed to duck aside. That left her in front of Ghalia, who tried to grapple, but Reina veered away from her without striking. Her eyes locked onto the band and she charged at them instead, aiming to decapitate Ghasfik and Huthur.

Celivia tackled her from the side, driving her to the ground. Reina hissed and struggled until Celivia managed to lock their gazes. Slowly Reina's fury faded, she made a very soft sound, then her eyes fell closed.

"Bersk are always a liability." Antaliel stood nearby with a distasteful expression, but Celivia didn't give him another glance as she lifted Reina.

"It isn't your decision, Catainan Antaliel. To answer your question: yes, go and hunt down the stragglers. We intend to take the fight all the way to their village, but don't enter before I catch up to you."

Ghalia chuckled and hefted her axe. "We'll leave nothing left of them."

Though they began to move away, Celivia noticed that Vularagh moved slowly. He bled from a great many wounds and scowled, likely displeased that mere humans had injured him so frequently. Those injuries might be a liability, so Celivia caught his attention and nodded toward her band. "There may be a few humans hiding, so stay here with the soldiers in case they try anything."

He grunted and accepted that, which would hopefully salve his pride. Celivia then carried Reina to the band, though she hesitated to leave her friend with them. At that moment Jeraeli appeared beside her, speaking softly. "Don't worry, I'll look after her."

When Celivia started to thank her, Fijn stepped out of the group. "We'll protect her, Kaen. She might have lost control at the end, but she kept most of the humans off us during the fight. We wouldn't blame her for being Bersk."

"Thank you, Fijn." Celivia gave him a smile, though she still handed Reina over to Jeraeli. With her band sufficiently defended, Celivia sprinted into the forest after the others.

It was easy to track them via the trail of broken trees and dead Lowsteps. The raiders might have known the mountains well, but they were over-matched and their spirit had been broken. Celivia's only concern now was that the Lowsteps might have held someone in reserve. She had Ghalia and Antaliel remaining, but they might be vulnerable alone.

In the end, her concern was unnecessary. She caught up to the others not far from the Lowstep village, and it seemed that they had waited solely due to her instructions. The village itself was a miserable little thing with a crude wall and almost no guards. Celivia didn't need to speak to the two Catai, she simply gestured for them to follow her.

They found the chieftain of the Lowsteps inside the largest hut in the village, with a chest of valuables under one arm and a woman over his other shoulder. When he saw them, he threw both down. Instead of realizing that he had made a grievous error not fighting alongside his warriors, he sneered at them.

"You Deathspawn think you own everything. What you've done is nothing. I am the Lowstep clan. After I've killed you, I'll breed a n-"

Ghalia punched him in the face. He rocked back slightly, more surprised by the swift movement than injured, and kicked her in the stomach. The blow actually made Ghalia stumble back, but as she straightened, she grinned. For the first time, the Lowsteps chieftain showed a hint of fear.

He drew a double-bladed axe swiftly enough, however, and defended himself when Antaliel thrust a spear at his side. For several heartbeats, he actually managed to hold back both Ghalia and Antaliel, his axe swinging furiously and his body bursting with sein. His movements might not be elegant, but he had earned his strength through a lifetime of combat.

Celivia's whip lashed across his chest, opening a shallow wound. The chieftain winced, which was enough time for Ghalia to embed her axe in his thigh. He grabbed the shaft and tore it out, but then Celivia's tail stabbed deep into his side.

Though he managed to recover even from that injury, the chieftain couldn't stop the inevitable. He had clearly spent most of his life fighting against weaker opponents or individual challengers. Against three disciplined opponents who could not be easily overpowered, it was only a matter of time.

Eventually Antaliel broke his leg and Ghalia threw him to the ground. She picked up his axe, examined it dismissively, then tossed it to Celivia. "You want to do the honors, Celi?"

Though she should have known, Celivia only then realized that her plan was nearly complete. She carefully looped her whip at her belt and then held the rough axe with both hands. Below her, the Lowsteps chieftain forced on his knees glared up at her.

"Deathspawn bitch! Just because you're stronger, you think... you think..."

"Those are your rules." Celivia swung the axe through his neck and watched his head fall, then it was truly over.

Except perhaps not. When she looked up, she saw a small crowd of Lowstep villagers staring at them. The young men and a few women carried spears, but none of them were warriors. After seeing their chieftain fall, they knew that they didn't have a chance. She had considered what would happen during this final step, but those thoughts felt insubstantial compared to the real thing.

"I guess this was the chieftain's woman?" Ghalia lifted the terrified woman from the floor by the cloths around her neck. "Is she your type, Celi?"

"Don't be crass." Celivia turned to the gathered villagers and made eye contact with those who didn't look away before switching to Coran. "Your clan is gone. Surrender."

Several spears immediately hit the ground, followed by more. Antaliel stood beside her, but frowned. "Why not simply kill them? What worth are they to anyone?"

"Possibly some." Celivia shot a look back at him and he bowed politely, as it was her operation. Setting him out of mind, she stepped closer to the survivors. "If we leave you here, what will happen to you?"

They exchanged glances, their faces filled with terror and confusion. Eventually one of the young men spoke, his voice cracking. "As soon as they hear the Lowsteps fell, other clans will come to take us. There's no one left to defend us. We'll be torn apart."

"Then you can stay and become slaves to other raiders, or you can work for us. There is a mansthein fortress to the east that uses human servants. If you cooperate with them, you will be protected. It would not be a bad life."

A surprising number of the women nodded, and Celivia realized that they were only exchanging one set of masters for another. She disliked the solution, but saw no other way to spare their lives. Despite being Lowsteps, they were innocents, or something like it. Perhaps this way she could truly pull up the raiding clan root and stem instead of allowing another to take its place.

As the Lowsteps began to meekly return to their homes, Antaliel stepped beside her and bowed. "This was reasonably well done with limited resources, Kaen. But Elanian says that the debt is now paid, and we will leave as soon as possible."

"Tell him that I thank him."

Antaliel nodded and stepped away, as if he intended to return at that very moment. Ghalia stepped up beside Celivia and slung an arm around her shoulders. "I won't be leaving you, Celi. This fight only got my blood up. You say there are stronger humans?"

"Yes." For the first time, Celivia allowed herself to think of what came next. "There are clans much stronger than the Lowsteps."

"Then Reina and I will stand with you for a bit longer."

Not long after, Jeraeli arrived in the village, minus Reina. She quickly hastened to Celivia, shaking her head. "Never fear, Celivia. Your friend woke up and seems in perfect health, unless you count the fact that she wants to eat her own weight in meat."

"She would." Celivia smiled, despite everything. "Now do you head back to Castle Wahles?"

"Yes, but only briefly. And so will you, Celi." Jeraeli stepped closer and took her shoulders gently. "You succeeded, and I'm sure the Zeitai will smile upon your success. Eliminating one of the human clans will help clear the path through the mountains, after all. I'm sure your next assignment will be participating in the war against the Sage."

Celivia nodded, smiled, and wondered if that was what she wanted.

- End of Part 3 -

Interlude

All Huko wanted was to finish his watch, shovel something vaguely like food into his face, and get some sleep before the errants started dueling again. He was watching well enough, and he had his eye on a pot of beans Vaasci was cooking, so it seemed like it might work out. Then Captain Oritzo showed up and Huko knew his plans were shot.

"Men, drop whatever you're doing." Captain Oritzo yelled to get the whole company in range. He was good at that. "We've got an assignment, and if we don't get it done before night falls, none of us will be getting any sleep."

"This the reason you were gone for so long?" Chuumo threw out the question carelessly, currently sitting by the fire barefoot and rubbing between his disgusting toes. Captain Oritzo glowered, but it didn't have any impact anymore.

"I'm not going to lie to you, this will be rough." Captain Oritzo looked over the group, briefly catching Huko's eyes and holding his gaze. "Our leaders fucked up the balance of stronger errants. The long and short of it is, there will be Ironlords coming, maybe even Steeljudges. If we push hard and burn their supply camp now, we might make it, but by tomorrow there will be more errants out there."

His announcement got an immediate reaction from everyone. Juavie let out a groan, Vaasci began putting out his fire, and everyone grabbed for their gear. Huko stayed quiet, waiting for someone else to object. They'd watched this border for so long, the idea that they would actually run into Wahleen sounded like madness.

Captain Oritzo raised his voice to shout over the objections. "I don't like it either, but this is your only chance! They don't tell me much, but Wahleen hit us first, invading from one of their bases. We need to hit back before they can launch their full assault. Some of you might die breaking the enemy lines, but if enemy Steeljudges get here and we don't have any of our own to stop them, you'll all die. Masted before you can blink."

Huko frowned at that. That was how officers thought, but not many soldiers would die. If Steeljudges showed up, he and the other normal soldiers would simply surrender. No master errant would lower themselves to killing someone so far beneath them. The battle would be lost, sure, but that meant they would get sent home.

But apparently they were rushing the Wahleenese lines, so Huko checked over his gear. Best he could hope was that the plan actually worked and they burned out the enemy before any strong errants arrived.

He looked over his squad as he fiddled with his armor. Juavie and Vaasci were good men. Chuumo was repulsive but pretty good with his knives. Yimuun had been with him since training. But the only real talent in their group was Betio, who was a Peak Ironsquire and planned to make Ironlord before the end of the fighting. Betio would survive the charge, but Huko wasn't sure about himself.

Everyone was getting ready to march, and he saw along the trench that other companies were getting ready too. His looking was interrupted when Yimuun came up beside him and grunted. "You reckon we're gonna get masted?"

"Better not." Huko looked out over the big stretch of empty land, through the dust to the enemy camp. "Can't believe we're doing a big rush just because our Steeljudges are all wanking themselves off somewhere."

"Oh, I bet the generals sent them off on some damn assignment. Probably forgot this front even existed, without any real errants. That's the only way this decision makes any sense."

"Maybe." Huko would have said more, but then they started marching. He'd hated their filthy trench, but it seemed awful safe compared to the wasteland.

Now that he could see, he saw that the wasteland wasn't so empty. There were already soldiers fighting. That made him damn nervous, but he couldn't figure it out. From on the ground he couldn't see strategies or master errants, it was just a bunch of dust and other soldiers pissing themselves.

Since Juavie had the best eyes, Huko moved up alongside him. "Can you see a way through this?"

"Looks bad, but I can't make head or tails of it."

"Well, this marching ain't gonna last long. We need a route to run, or we-" He cut off when Juavie made a strange sound, then looked over.

His friend's head was a bloody mess.

Huko didn't even see what had done it, he just saw the body start to fall. There was no enemy in sight, so it had to be someone from a distance. Just like that, the most reliable man in the squad was masted. He should have thought about that, but there was no time.

"Get down!" Huko yelled the warning and tackled Vaasci to the ground. No one else died, but it was pure luck. Nearby, he saw an arrow blow a hole straight through a man from another squad, sending the group scattering.

With his face in the dirt, Huko had no idea what was happening. But from his position he could see the rest of the line. An errant in heavy armor dropped down in front of another company, wielding an enormous mace. He swung it and the blow went straight through several soldiers, sending a cascade of gore over the nearest ranks.

A Steeljudge. They were dead.

Huko realized in a single horrible moment that the Captain had lied. They weren't trying to preempt the Wahleenese errants - they were getting tossed into the jaws of the beast. The generals must have decided that it was better to sacrifice their lowest soldiers on a fool hope rather than surrender the position.

But it was too late to go back. Huko grabbed Vaasci by the shoulders and pushed him up, yelling to the others. "We have to run for it!" As he spoke, some terrible technique sent boulders slamming across the battlefield, masting several soldiers and drowning out his words. Huko had no idea if anyone even heard, but they began to run.

It was a mad stumble, assaulted on all sides by screams and clashing steel. One of the enemy Steeljudges was yelling something, but by the time Huko figured out he was telling them to turn back and save themselves, it was too late. Once he risked looking over his shoulder, but that Steeljudge was blocking the way, slaughtering anyone who dared step out of the trenches. There was no going back.

Something slammed into him from the side and he skidded into the dirt. For a second Huko thought he'd been masted, only slowly realizing that he was alive. What the hell had happened? The battle around him made no sense, a mad rush of bodies. All he could do was find his squad, some down and others separated into groups. They were still making their way forward.

Then out of nowhere Chuumo's head went flying from his shoulders. Only after that did Huko manage to see the man who'd done it, a Wahleenese errant in lean armor. It was just a flickering glimpse, then the man blurred away, sweeping a knife through two soldiers from another squad. He moved like a shadow, effortlessly cutting apart anyone who stood in his way.

When the man came after the squad, Betio turned around to face him. Huko struggled to his feet, intending to help or at least get away, but it didn't matter. By the time he got up, it was already over.

The enemy stabbed Betio twice in the chest before he even got his sword up. Betio, the strongest man in the squad, who could hold a burning pot without flinching. That didn't seem to make any difference. Again the man was visible for just a moment as he paused, then he cut through Betio's throat as if in an afterthought and he blurred away again.

Huko just ran, realizing that he'd pissed himself. If someone that fast so much as looked at him, he was dead. All he could do was run for it.

Somehow he stumbled and ate dirt, rocks digging into his face. That might have been all that saved him, because a heartbeat later he saw another armored Wahleenese errant, lumbering faster than Huko had ever run in his life. He plowed straight into another squad, their spears ringing off his armor uselessly.

Without warning there was someone in Huko's face. He stabbed out and nearly impaled Vaasci. By chance his spear glanced off the other man's armor and he avoided goring his friend. Vaasci was wielding a pathetically small knife and looked terrified. Huko figured he probably looked just as bad.

"Keep moving!" Huko grabbed his friend and pushed them onward. "We just have to make it the rest of the way there! We can-"

Then he saw a dark blur as the same man from before sprinted across the battlefield. He was curving at the front of the charging line, killing the soldiers who got closest. Huko realized that they were definitely dead and the words died in his throat.

The man blurred toward them and Huko closed his eyes, sure it was over. Yet instead of death, he heard a terrible scraping of metal. When he looked up, he saw a suit of armor standing in the way. The Wahleenese man had retreated, eyeing the new opponent.

Huko wanted to thank him, but the slim suit of armor just waved at them. "Get to the camp or this is all useless!"

It was a woman's voice, and he realized that the armor belonged to Ironlord Tissebel. They said she was on the verge of reaching Steeljudge and Huko felt a surge of hope. If some of their own strongest had arrived, then he had a chance.

The fight in front of him was a blurring mess that he could barely understand. Tissebel seemed to be slower than her opponent, but her armor held up against the knives that had easily punched through everyone else. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to move so fast...

"Move!" Vaasci grabbed him and urged him on. Huko managed to tear himself away as the fight grew more violent and rushed on.

Were they close to the camp? Had they gone off course? He had almost no idea what was going on, the lines having been torn apart by the bloodshed. There were people dying left and right, yet somehow-

Something flew by, barely brushing his shoulder yet slamming him into the ground. All the wind was knocked from his lungs and a storm followed, caking him with dust. When he managed to look up, he saw that Tissebel was skidding to a halt, down on one knee. She levered herself back up, but it must have been her passing that knocked him down.

When Huko looked for Vaasci, he saw the other man lying on the ground. His hips were wrenched at a terrible angle, several bones emerging from the bottom of his torso. The sight of him torn apart made Huko collapse and vomit, which might have saved him again.

Around them, Tissebel and her opponent began to fight again. Their fight moved too quickly for him to understand anything about it, but he occasionally saw bursts of blood as their battle brushed against nearby soldiers. Masted in an instant.

"Huko... can't feel my legs..." Vaasci reached for him and Huko gripped his shoulder.

"We're almost there. We'll burn the camp."

"Dammit, wait!" Vaasci scrabbled at his wrist, but his fingers were terribly weak. "Don't fucking leave me here! Damn you, Huko! Don't leave me to die in this fucking place!"

Turning away, Huko forced himself onward. Staying would just get him killed too. He didn't even care about burning the enemy camp, he just wanted to get away from the carnage.

Where the hell was the rest of his squad? He'd seen most of them die, but there were others. Yimuun was nowhere to be seen at all. As he stumbled on, Huko realized that he'd lost his spear somehow and he didn't even know when. Didn't matter. He still had a seincoal at his belt and that would be enough. If he even found the camp.

His attempt at strategy was interrupted when he tripped and fell directly into a trench. It was a miracle that he didn't crack his neck in the fall. Huko pulled himself to his feet by a wooden box. The damn thing looked so familiar it could have come from their side, not that it mattered. He saw a doused fire with several seats around it, but no Wahleenese soldiers. Gotten lucky then.

No, not lucky. Looking down the trench, he saw that other Portantese soldiers huddled there. Apparently they'd won through too. Only then did he realize that the trench meant that they must be near the supplies. He stumbled toward them, hoping that they understood what was going on. Yet the soldiers weren't planning, just waiting in fear.

Somehow he'd gotten way off course. A supply depot was in sight, but there were enemy errants in the way. Probably fucking Steeljudges, given how his day had gone. He looked for the tunnel to the supplies, but found it stacked with corpses from some previous battle. The only way in was over the last stretch of ground.

"Onward, men!" Some idiot leapt up from the trench, yelling at the top of his lungs. "For the Hero! For the Legend!"

What the hell did any of that mean? It didn't seem to matter, because all the others started moving as soon as they saw him. There was no plan, everyone was just running forward because they had no other choice. It looked like the soldiers were in three groups, aiming to try three different approaches. Because there were three different enemies in the way, spread out across the space.

One was another armored behemoth, carrying a blade covered in gore. Then there was a tall man wearing only robes, a long spear currently through the body of another soldier. Third was a small woman sitting on a rock.

The others were running. He had to go then or he'd never be able to get up.

For some reason Huko found himself staggering toward the woman. He didn't really think she was weaker - his sister had always been tougher than him and he'd just been saved by Ironlord Tissebel. But in that moment she wasn't surrounded by the bodies of her enemies or covered in gore and he was willing to take the chance.

Another one of the soldiers, some man he didn't even recognize, tripped and hit him from the side, knocking him sprawling. That was the only reason Huko survived.

The small woman picked up a sharp rock from a pile beside her and threw it. He couldn't follow the movement, but it didn't matter because she repeated it. A second rock flew out, blowing straight through the skull of a charging soldier. She threw again and again, emptying the pile into the bodies charging at her.

Half a company of soldiers charged at her at full speed. All of them were torn apart by rocks.

Huko realized that he was screaming only after he realized that he was crawling. He had a vague sense that another errant showed up and threatened the woman with the rocks, only for her ally with the spear to intercept. It didn't matter. The other soldiers didn't matter. There was no point thinking. All he could do was crawl until someone crushed him like a bug.

Yet somehow he found himself running into the side of the supply depot. Huko stared at it in shock for a long time, not understanding. How the hell had he survived? He looked up and expected to see Steeljudges all around him, yet there was no one.

Some instinct from his old life on the other side of the hellscape made him reach for the seincoal at his belt. He was almost surprised to find it and fumbled at the pocket for a long time. When he got it out he almost didn't realize, his fingers numb despite the heat of it.

Stumbling to a pile of supplies, Huko tried to strike the coal. He produced a few sparks but nothing caught. He mindlessly bashed at a wooden keg and this time saw a bit of flame. It burned his hand and he didn't realize. He just staggered away, striking the coal into a pile of hay. That caught faster and he stared at the flames as they began to spread.

He'd done it. By the time the Steeljudges realized that fires had been set, even they wouldn't be able to put them out. Huko realized that he would be the hero of this battle. The heavens themselves had guided him there to win the fight. He was part of something now, paving the way for-

He never felt the steel that took him in the side of the head.

Part 4

The First War

Chapter 37

-

"Precise beard braiding patterns may vary according to style and taste. There were once specific braids for different professions, but these are less rigidly kept in this modern age. Gentlemen who prefer other gentlemen do still wear the reverse braid at times, but the overtness of this signal has led to a recent decline in popularity. The errant's knot is commonly worn as a concession to the realities of combat, though a longer braid is a sign of confidence."

- Espalese Gentleman's Guide

-

As sein arced from Tani's fingers, she could feel her bonds and commitments take form. She had forged those strings of sein from so many memories: her commitment to the Nelee, her love of her master, her bonds with her friends. It was as if she reached out into the world and demanded that it respect everything she valued.

It was all very honorable, except that the purpose of those embodied commitments was to kill people.

That doubt weakened her sein, occasionally making the strings shiver when she pulled her knives back into her hands. Tani believed that in the midst of true combat, with something meaningful on the line, the instability would disappear. It plagued her when she sparred with Slaten, however, making the technique appear weaker than it truly was.

She and Slaten sparred nearly every day of their journey south along the river, more collecting new experiences than testing their raw ability. Both of them needed practice fighting on the surface of a moving ship, though the sailors said that the river was nothing like the open ocean. Slaten took a chance to test himself against a warrior with endless projectiles, while Tani used him to test how other warriors would react to her knives.

As usual, she hurled three knives in succession, trying not to let her bonds to them slow her arm. Slaten ducked aside from two and deflected the third. He surprised her by swinging through the space between her and her knives, even hacking into the deck.

Though Tani felt his blade pass through the strings, it couldn't sever her intangible connections. She pulled two of her knives back directly... and jerked the third, not merely pulling the knife to her, but instead sending it flying toward Slaten's back.

He managed to turn at the last moment and took the blade to his shoulder. Even merely practicing, it might have opened a minor wound, but his Bloodskin body absorbed the blow. Slaten smiled grimly at her trick, while Tani found herself dissatisfied with it. Jerking the blade backward made it spin, which was an unreliable way to strike an opponent. On top of that, Slaten had been able to react to the technique even though he had never seen it before. She needed more to use it in combat.

"Stop that, you fucking lunatics!" The captain of the ship roared down from the upper deck, spittle flying to land between them. "It's bad enough that you errants dance around on my ship, don't go chopping it up!"

"My apologies." Slaten returned his sword to his side and bowed, but the captain only threw a coil of rope at them.

"You do understand you need the ship to float, right? Is 'wood floats' too difficult a concept for you sword-swinging imbeciles?" The captain pointed down at the rope he'd used as a projectile. "At least use that freakish strength to get this tied!"

Tani nodded and gathered the rope to take to one of the sailors. She had grown somewhat accustomed to life on a larger vessel, but didn't think herself a sailor. The man instructed her on how the rope needed to be tied high above the mast, so Tani quickly ran up the side to fasten it. They had taught her a few sailors' knots, at least, and usually relied on her instead of climbing themselves, as the sailors seemed happy to have her help, aside from the captain.

Meanwhile, Slaten helped the others tie the other end of the rope properly. Tani balanced atop the spar waiting for him to finish, then dropped back down beside him. Once he finished his work, he turned to her and spoke without preamble.

"Your knife trick is clever, but it lacks cutting power."

"I know." Tani dangled a knife from a thread of sein, considering it. "I could pull it back harder, but I don't think that will be enough. The true problem is that all the sein in the knife is spent on the throw. If I held the sein within it, do you think you would notice?"

"Most likely not." Slaten blinked as he considered it. "Could you so easily just leave sein in a weapon after it has left your hands?"

"No, that's beyond me, but perhaps one day..."

Slaten ran his hand over the edge of his blade, frowning. "I failed to cut your threads."

"Did you truly expect that to work? It's not as if sein is invisible metal, to be smashed against itself. So much of myself is built into the threads, I don't think the sein of another could simply cut it."

"I still believe it might be possible."

Tani regarded him, then nodded thoughtfully. "If that's what your instincts tell you, you might be correct. I wish that we had Veron or Olondris along with us. They would no doubt be able to provide insight on the matter."

"Perhaps we could ask one of the stronger errants? I believe that three of them are Steeljudges."

Though Tani suppressed her frown, she suspected that Slaten might have noticed. He might not embrace the northern ranks uncritically, but he accepted them where she remained skeptical. It was not a significant point between them, but she disliked seeing the terminology creeping into his language. In any case, their sparring was clearly done for the day.

That complete, it was, sadly, not yet time for a meal. Tani had found the prospect of an entire trip of dry rations terribly sad at the beginning of her journey. Fortunately, the ship had quickly developed an informal exchange market for food, making each meal a strange puzzle that was all the more satisfying for the difficulty in creating something delicious.

The Bloodskins and Earthbreakers always had unusual foods to trade, though she feared that they had raided them. Contrary to what the Espalese had told her, Portantese errants cared deeply about food, carrying a variety of sweet sauces that could make even hardtack rations palatable. Tani herself traded from a bundle of food that Mantyos and Olondris had given her before she departed.

Natala sat at the center of many food exchanges. Tani was still uncertain how the Bloodskin woman had managed to acquire so many different items, but her collection had grown throughout the journey south. A few of the raiders grumbled about it, but the errants and the others seemed happy to trade with her, despite the fact that Tani suspected she was trading them their own delicacies.

As much as it pained her to set food aside, she admitted that there were more important things she could be doing. Training was actually the least of her work: most importantly, she needed to speak to the errants who journeyed along with them. Melal's purpose had torn them from their homes, but until they reached the mountains, Tani thought there was hope.

At least, a different hope.

Tani padded to the front of the ship and hopped to the deck the sailors called the forecastle. Her goal was Cantyan, an older errant who had come along with them. Despite his age and heavy armor, he balanced atop the spar at the front of the ship. She leapt up to join him, keeping a respectful distance.

"Are you busy keeping watch, Cantyan?"

"Just looking." He turned back to her, his helm propped back on his head so she could see all of his weathered face. "We have sailed smoothly so far, but the Hero declared that cannot last. I agree. Can feel it in my bones. We'll start to run into problems sooner or later, mark my words."

"Is that much of a prophecy?" Tani asked the question with a smile to soften it. "Since we sail toward a war, trouble is nearly certain."

"Ha, so it is!"

As before, Cantyan did not overtly reject her ideas, but they failed to budge him. He simply continued searching forward, scouting for the Hero. Tani struggled with her thoughts and settled for a different approach. "Aren't you worried about falling into the water?"

"Oh, I trust that I'll keep my feet beneath me. Old Cantyan isn't so old yet!" He leapt and clicked his armored boots together before landing lightly. "But if I did fall, it would be a matter of if I could reach safety before my sein gave out. And it would not be pleasant for my armor, let me tell you. So don't go pushing this old man, eh?"

"You've ruined my trick." Tani stepped out closer, staring at the blue ribbon as it arced toward the mountains. "Are battles over water particularly dangerous for heavily armored errants?"

"A bit of water wouldn't trouble a Steeljudge, but lesser errants... aye, promising young Ironlords have lost their lives in rivers. And only Wahleen has a real navy, which is why the Hero needed to commission Captain Piefar there."

Always back to the Hero. Tani sighed and surrendered to it. "Forgive me, Cantyan, but I need to ask: why come with us? Why risk your life for an old man you've never met?"

"I haven't met the Sage, but there's a brilliant young man I have met! I haven't felt so alive in years..."

"But the risk... it's rumored that the Zeitai himself is involved, and the armies and raiders would be dangerous enough..."

Cantyan turned and put a gauntlet on her shoulder, his eyes soft. "Tani, you are very young. Your fires are still rising. You've never asked for my rank. Do you know it?"

"I don't understand why that w-"

"I am a Peak Ironlord, just as you are." He gave her a slightly pained smile. "In a year you will surpass anything I ever accomplished. I don't begrudge it, but I... I've known for a long time that I would not become a master. So I have been merely a petty errant, accomplishing so little... this is my last chance to fight for something that matters."

Tani's chest ached as her arguments fell away. "Surely... surely you have friends and family. Do they not matter?"

"Aye, but defending them from a war that would destroy them all matters more. My wife is years dead and my children are grown. This is the best use for an old errant, I think. Better to go out as part of the Legend than to grow weak and watch the world leave me behind."

In a different time and place, Tani had uttered many similar words. For a moment she felt a stab of pure hatred at Melal for turning her own arguments against her. Though she longed to draw Cantyan away from the futile conflict, she understood that he sought his own honor and couldn't deny him it. Instead she merely stood alongside him as they watched.

The silence stretched until all of Cantyan's armor clanked. At first she thought that he had been struck and Tani nearly drew her knives, then she saw that he was surprised. Spinning back, the old errant bellowed out to the others.

"Something's not right ahead!"

Many of the sailors scrambled to look and Melal rose from his sleeping position, his sword singing from its sheath. Tani took the more practical step of gathering her sein and peering forward. Whatever his other limitations, Cantyan clearly had excellent vision, because it took her some time to realize what he had seen.

Ahead of them, around a cluster of dusty rocks, a company of soldiers with several ships lay in wait. From such a distance it was difficult to be sure, but from the way they gleamed in the sun, they were likely mansthein. Something shone in the water as well, perhaps a chain to block the river. Tani frowned and stepped down to the forecastle, only to find that the others were already reacting.

"I've stopped the rowers." Captain Piefar scowled up the stairs to join them. "If this is some madness like another errant contest, I'll throw your damn armor overboard."

"There is a blockade ahead," Cantyan said. "I doubt they have seen us, but there is no way to pass them."

"Deathspawn." Melal stepped up beside them, seizing the conversation. "I can smell them from here."

Captain Piefar sighed. "If you want to fight them now, that wasn't our deal. I need to reach the trading camp and sell bef-"

"You'll get your foul profits. Normally I would want to slaughter them, but this group can only exist for the sake of capturing me." Melal put one leg up on the side of the ship, eyes piercing over the sands. "If we are to save the Sage, we cannot be waylaid here. Is there a way around?"

"There's only one river."

"I know that, fool! But though there may be only one path through the Legend, there is always more than one path in life. Find it."

Slaten and several errants and joined them, listening quietly, but no one seemed to have any ideas. Tani tried to stretch her mind toward a solution, but the problem seemed too simple: there was only one way forward and returning was no choice at all.

Piefar grunted and shook his head. "It's time for some errant stupidity. I hate this idea, but I can't have the Deathspawn seizing my goods... or bleeding all over them, if you have your way. Time for the brutes to earn their keep."

He turned away and began shouting orders, but Tani was entirely unclear on just what they could possibly do to avoid the blockade. The rowers let the boat drift back along with the river, sliding toward one of the less rocky banks. Just when Tani feared they would run aground, they did, the deck lurching underneath her. She kept her feet, but some staggered or fell.

"What are you doing?" One of the stronger errants approached the captain, visor down but voice contemptuous. "Unless your ship is secretly a turtle, like in the stories, this is foolishness."

"We have no choice but to avoid the Deathspawn for now," Melal said. His voice was entirely confident, but he regarded Piefar with a strange look. "But you should explain just what you intend to do."

"All of you brutes are going to carry the ship over the sands." Piefar sneered in the errant's visor. "Unless your freakish strength is not enough?"

The woman hesitated, taken aback by the suggestion. Tani thought it must have been a jest, yet the errants seemed to take it seriously. After considering, the errant turned back to him. "The difficulty is not strength, but preventing your wooden boat from falling apart. I demand that you give us command of this operation, if it is not to ruin us all."

"Do as you wish. Just remember that my cargo isn't as dense as your heads."

The mad plan was set into motion. All non-essential crew were sent over the sides to the sandy shore. Several errants moved the anchor chain to a braced position and one of the Steeljudges began to drag it onto the shore. Tani jumped down in admiration for the feat of strength, her boots sinking into the sands.

Beaching the ship was nothing compared to carrying it over the distance necessary to avoid the blockade. She had expected them to stop to build some device to roll the ship, but it seemed that the errants intended to physically carry it. They already had the raiders at the sides, grunting and heaving as they tried to prove their strength against the errants.

They succeeded in moving the ship several times, though never properly carrying it. Tani decided that she had stood back for long enough and moved to stand beside the errant in charge of the others. "Excuse me, can I help?"

"And you are?" The errant looked down at her, eyes moving to her shoulder. Tani reluctantly showed the rank band she had been given.

"A Peak Ironlord? We could use your strength, however... you see that most of us are much taller than you. We'll give you something to carry and trust you to scout ahead of the ship."

Tani was soon handed a surprisingly heavy crate. She might have staggered, but didn't want to appear weak in front of the older errant, so she let her sein flow through her and shifted the crate to a better carrying position. Looking at all the sweating and grunting warriors struggling to move the ship, Tani decided that she preferred this task.

She took her crate to a safe distance and watched as the ship actually lifted from the ground. Slaten heaved at one side along with the Bloodskins, no doubt lifting his share. Some of the younger raiders and errants looked to be more trouble than their strength was worth, getting in the way of the others, while the strongest could lift a considerable part of the ship on their own.

Difficult as it might seem, the group managed to heft the entire ship onto their shoulders. Once the crew finished balancing everything remaining and climbed down from the sides, the warriors actually seemed more than capable of holding the weight. Whether or not they would last carrying it across part of the desert was quite another question.

Once they began marching, Tani moved to the head of the group with her crate, scouting for any sign of a threat. She wished that they had Veron for this and wondered yet again about why the older woman had refused to come with them. During the argument with Melal she had implied she would follow soon, but Tani wondered if she had any intention of joining the war.

Simple walking was painfully slow for Tani, so escorting the ship soon became agonizing. Desperate for anything to distract her, she eventually found Piefar walking to one side, using the ship to blunt the sands blowing against them.

"Excuse me, Captain Piefar?" Tani smiled at him, but he refused to match her expression.

"Don't you have something heavy to be carrying?"

Tani hefted her crate demonstratively and the man grunted.

"I'd tell you to leave, but Natala said you were reasonable for an errant. I suppose I can suffer you for a time."

"Ah, you know Natala?" Though Tani smiled as she fell into pace alongside him, she found herself wondering just how Natala had formed that connection and how much she had already said.

"The girl has a good head on her shoulders. Usually the young ones idealize the brutish fighters, begging your pardon. But she saw them for what they were quick enough. Good to hear someone else with the right ideas about errants."

No doubt that was no coincidence, but Tani wasn't interested in whatever Natala schemed. "You must admit that you would not be able to carry a ship overland without them."

"Wouldn't have to." Piefar shook his head slowly. "I've been to a great many lands and seen a great many warriors. Whatever they're called, it's always the same. Errants, illuminators, blood artists, miasmists, soul legionnaires... just fancier names for bandits."

"That is unfair. The errants risk their lives to defend merchants like you from bandits."

"And they take coin for it. The numbers look just the same in a ledger. They may not have planned it, but they're running the greatest scam in the world."

Tani frowned, struggling not to resist his words as swiftly as she wished to. "You assume that warriors have nothing to offer others. But they can be leaders, counselors, symbols... sein may be used for violence, but it's so much more than that."

"Of course you would say that."

She thought she saw some real contempt in the man's eyes now, so Tani let the point rest. It reminded her of certain arguments between Master Yanumi and other Nelee masters. Always the same words, the same emotions, never truly advancing. Her master somehow let the anger drain from her, but Tani held it inside. With a deep breath, she did her best to completely refocus.

"You're obviously an educated man, Captain Piefar. Is that normal for ship captains?"

"No, no." He regarded her for a time, then rolled his shoulders. "It's not much of a story. I was the fourth child of a minor Espalese family. I learned well enough, but they didn't need another scholar, so they sent me to manage the family business instead. In the end, the family didn't last, but the business did."

"I see. There are profits to be made taking goods along this river?"

"Oh, there are, but this route is new for me. No, I used to sail the Bienal Islands. Have you been there, girl?"

Tani had never seen a single island in her life, so she merely shook her head.

"They're grim in winter, but beautiful in spring. Crossing from Anteln to Felgaad is the only safe way to pass between Fareshel and Breilin, you know. Larger ships might take a southern route, but the Embien Ocean... you have no idea just how vast it is, girl. The emptiness alone will swallow you."

"And so you sail rivers instead?"

Piefar gave a wry smile. "Such long voyages are for the young. I admit that I grow tired of seeing Espalese and Portantese faces every day, especially so many damn errants, but that's a safer path for a merchant. If you can safely carry valuable enough cargo, even a trip like this can be worth it."

"You must have seen a great many wonders in your travels."

"And I'm not inclined to talk about them with brutes, however short they may be."

By now, Tani suspected that he was less than sincere, so she simply smiled. "At least tell me about this idea of yours. I hope that you had some reason to believe that carrying a ship would be possible?"

"Oh, I heard of it from a traveler I met on the islands. All the way from Taln, he was. Very strange fellow. But when he drank enough, he told tales of a land filled with rivers. The brutes they have there train to carry their ships, easily passing between rivers to strike anywhere in the land. Their legends of the most brutish of them had warriors carrying ships on their own, though he might have been talking out his ass there."

"I wish I could have heard him tell those tales. I don't even know where Taln is."

"Big city in the west of the Eternal Empire. It means nothing at all to anyone on Breilin."

"The Eternal Empire is in the center of Fareshel, correct? Have you ever traveled there?"

"You ask too many questions." Piefar rolled his shoulders again before answering. "Truth is, I'm not sure exactly what that Empire really is. Up north where the islands stop is supposed to be their territory, but they never acted like it. I've met a hundred men and women from the Empire, but not one who seemed loyal to it. That's more trouble than I want to chew, I reckon."

Just hearing such fragments sent Tani's imagination racing. Perhaps this "Eternal Empire" was forged from dozens of tribes that had little loyalty to one another. She longed to visit that land one day, or at least to leave Breilin. The idea that all the land she had ever seen was like a raft floating in a lake, water in all directions...

"You're from south of the Sotunn Mountains, right?" Piefar glanced over at her and Tani nodded too eagerly at his question.

"Yes, I am. I represent the Nelee tribe and I hope to bring back many new understandings to my people."

"If you ask me, you should start bringing those back sooner rather than later. The Maenhu is going to get bloody soon. No place for a young bruteling who actually has something in her head."

"Thank you for the warning, but we currently sail toward a greater conflict."

"Not that." Piefar looked over his shoulder as if he could see the northern nations behind them. "I don't know what made those fools along the Wahleenese border break the truce, but I don't think this one will end quickly. Wahleen can't allow it, not with the Deathspawn occupying the whole north. They're moving into Portant, too, and if those two go to it, Espal won't sit idly by."

Without the Hero, would the Maenhu have remained at peace? Tani didn't think that Melal could be blamed for the breaking of the truce, and the hatred between them had existed for generations. Yet still... she found herself wondering if it would be best to try to convince Melal to return south instead of getting involved in the northern war.

Yet where should he go? The Chorhan Expanse was balanced on a knife of peace and the Rhen tribes could still easily be drawn into a war. Though Tani desperately hoped to avoid such a choice, she would save the Nelee before she attempted to save strangers. Did that mean that it would be better to let Melal return north to condemn others to join his war?

Tani's expanded sein senses meant that she was as aware of all the others walking along with them as she was of her own hair, yet she was still mildly surprised when Natala came to walk beside them. She could distinguish Slaten and Laeri by their sein, but Natala could have been anyone else.

"There's a beast on the rocks ahead," Natala said. "Do we need to avoid it?"

"Eh?" Piefar shielded his eyes from the sun and looked where she directed. "Ah, no, that's just a dragon. We're too noisy, so it will leave us alone. They mostly like to lie down and soak up the sun anyway."

Eager to see one of the northern creatures, Tani followed Natala's hand. Indeed, a beast sat atop a rock, sunning its dark brown scales. It struck her as a fat snake at first, with four clawed legs splayed out around it. As she watched, it looked toward them, but merely flicked a long forked tongue from its mouth several times and then laid its head back down.

"That is a dragon?" she asked. "I had... expected it to be bigger."

"Heard stories, huh?" Piefar shook his head. "Just errant nonsense. That there is a desert dragon, and they're one of the bigger ones. Some of the others are no longer than your arm."

"But I thought they were dangerous. They defeat the manticore in the game of beasts."

"Mostly they sit, but they're fast when they move. And their bite... I don't know what it is, but I've seen even some errants fall to the infection. I suppose I should warn the crew and make sure no one gets the idea of trying to cook it. We have enough to worry about."

Piefar moved away from them, giving terse orders to one of the sailors. That left Tani walking alongside Natala, the Bloodskin woman struggling under a heavy pack. Though Tani's first instinct was to help her, she found herself instead thinking of what she had just heard. "So you told Piefar that you hate those foolish brutes, did you?"

Natala grinned. "He seemed pleased to hear it."

"Do you simply tell everyone what they most want to hear? You must know that you cannot sustain that. Others will grow angry when they learn you wear different masks for different people."

"They'll grow angry right now if I tell them something they don't want to hear." Another sandy wind seemed to blow Natala's smile away and she regarded Tani seriously. "The dragon was a distraction. I wanted to speak to you regarding the Steelbones and their leader."

Tani bit her lip. "I would rather not speak of him. I thought that he might listen to me, but I was only deluding myself."

"But his idea of offering villages protection is still an intriguing one. I'd like to hear everything you know about how he forced his clan to follow that path."

Uncomfortable as the subject was, Tani made herself recount the details she could remember. It was unpleasant, but better than walking alone. Strange as she was, Natala did always listen to others. If only the raiding clans allowed women in positions of leadership, Natala might well be a respected chieftain, one who might listen to outsiders with strange ideas.

Before they could finish, Slaten joined them. Though his face remained stiff, his steps were a weak shuffle and he rubbed one shoulder repeatedly. Tani smiled at him and then glanced back to the ship, still trudging forward. "There are enough of you for some to take a break?"

"An errant is covering for me, but there is another reason." Slaten gestured toward the horizon, where Tani could just make out the glimmer of the river with the help of sein. "Some of the faster errants intend to scout ahead and I thought you would want to come with us."

"I would be happy to, if someone can carry this crate. Are we finding the path back to the river?"

"They know the path, but they want to be sure that there are not more blockades lying in wait ahead. We need to stay out of sight, but if that requires more than one day..."

Just as Tani opened her mouth to respond, she smelled Melal approaching behind them, like mint being tossed into an inferno. He swept up beside them, ignoring Natala to put his hands around Tani and Slaten's shoulders.

"Is this not an amazing feat, my friends? Carrying a ship across a desert! Before the Legend is complete, they shall sings songs of this." Melal raised his arms forward as if exalting the mountains ahead, his eyes as bright as the desolation around them. "But those songs will pale in comparison to the bloodshed that awaits us."

Tani remained skeptical about the words of the Sages. With Melal's promises, she could only hope.

Chapter 38

-

"In those days, there was a great war between Wahleen and Espal, fought in the hills of Portant. In those days, a young errant named Emdore fought for Espal against Wahleen. In those days, a young errant named Emlioon fought for Wahleen. And so on one of those fateful days, they were brought together on the same battlefield, and long did they do battle."

- excerpt from The Tale of Emdore and Emlioon

-

"Speech, Kaen, speech! Speech, Kaen, speech!"

Celivia looked up from her food, blinking in surprise at how quickly the chant had come together. When she had last been mentally present, the table had been filled with food, but now only bones and skewers remained. Her band reclined around it, with Ghalia on the opposite side and Reina crouched at her right.

"A speech?" Celivia raised an eyebrow as they all quieted down. "You don't want to hear me give a speech."

"We've finished a difficult campaign," Ghasfik said. "We need something to cap it off."

Fijn leaned closer from her left. "Everyone is going to get so drunk they won't remember anyway."

"If you insist." Celivia raised her mug, though it contained only water. "They sent us out to fail, but we won. They're going to send us out again, against even more human barbarians, but not yet. They don't bring just any band back to Wahleen, so enjoy your victory."

"Hear, hear!" Big Ragh smashed his mug against hers, losing a significant amount of whatever he was drinking, which hissed against the table. "That enjoyment starts right now!"

He tipped his head back and began draining his mug, despite Splinters elbowing him to try to make him cough. Celivia noted that his muscles looked denser, now that she considered it. His progress wasn't breathtaking, and his skin wouldn't turn aside a blade, but he had advanced. The others cheered for his accomplishment and conversations struck up around the table again.

"It was a good speech." Ghalia spoke loudly enough to be heard over the others. "Too long by half, though. Xetsu is the true master of short speeches."

Before Celivia could answer, Brifik spoke up. "Xetsu? You can't mean Zeitai Xetsu?"

"Hell yes, I mean him! Do you think he'd let someone else run around using his name?"

"I didn't... really imagine him giving speeches."

Ghalia laughed and took a long swig from her mug, enjoying the attention. "He's silent most of the time, but he's better at talking than you'd think. One time, he was about to lead everyone against one of Baelen's remaining armies. There weren't many of us, and we're nothing beside the Zeitai, so we knew that we'd probably die. But Xetsu stood up, got everyone's attention... and all he said was, 'Come back injured.' Let me tell you, it got the blood flowing!"

Though Celivia didn't respond to the words, she did see the implication, and her band reacted with mug-banging approval. She thought back to the two times when she'd heard Xetsu speak and felt certain that those words had been more calculated than they appeared.

"Celi, let's go." Reina leaned into her side and spoke quietly. "Surely we have more important things to do than drink with them?"

"Soon." Celivia rubbed her back gently and felt the tension along the other woman's spine. She wouldn't snap, but there was no chance that she'd enjoy herself. Though Celivia had to pull her hand away, as she didn't want anyone drawing conclusions, she replaced it with her tail, stroking the flat of her blade against Reina's back.

At that moment Krafan leaned across Reina, beaming at Celivia. "Thank you for the meal, Celivia. This was delicious, but truthfully, I think you were the better cook."

Reina hissed at him and he flinched back. Though Celivia tried to give him an apologetic smile, she realized that Reina had been right. She had spent some time with the band and made her little speech. Now they were getting drunker and listening to Ghalia's stories, so there was no point in her staying. Best to begin her work before she wore out her welcome.

With a nod to Ghasfik, Celivia pushed back her chair and stepped away. By the time she reached the door, Reina at her heels, her second had extricated himself and come to join her. "Yes, Kaen?"

"Try to keep the band under control, but I have something else for you to do." Despite all the noise around them, Celivia lowered her voice. "I'm told that a soldier from the local garrison has been assigned to join us as our ninth member. I'm concerned that everyone might think of him as a replacement for Little Ragh, and that could be difficult for him. To be honest, I don't know what the best approach would be."

"I'll handle it, Kaen." Ghasfik brought a fist to his chest with a look that might have been approval. "Do you intend to handle all our other business?"

"I have an audience in the castle proper some time during the next ten days, so I'll trust you to handle the band's affairs. But yes, I'll be handling equipment and other requisitions." As if to remind herself, she slipped a hand into the pocket of her robes, where she felt the chit she'd been given.

Though Ghasfik merely nodded, Fijn came up behind him. "Do you want me to handle the equipment? I know that's Brifik's job, but he's too drunk to see straight, so I could cover it."

"That's kind of you, but the mansthein at Castle Wahles make it difficult to find equipment." Celivia frowned and reconsidered. "What I want is to talk to someone named Daekhan, but he makes himself difficult to find. Can you go to the quartermaster and make it clear that I'm looking for him?"

"Sure." Fijn nodded to her and then trotted away. Thinking back, she realized that she had seen him drinking regularly, but rarely refill his glass. Faking, perhaps.

With two members of the band given duties, Celivia thought her tasks might be at an end, but to her surprise Huthur approached as well. It seemed that she would need to flee the restaurant if she wanted to avoid being constantly encountered.

"I'd like to ask for leave," Huthur said. "I won't be with the band while we're here, but tell me the date and I will make sure I return on time."

"Unfortunately, we don't know exactly when we voidwalk out. But if you stay in touch with Ghasfik every few days, that should be sufficient. Otherwise, consider your leave granted."

"Thank you, Kaen." He saluted with a surprisingly relieved smile, then quickly slipped into the street. Celivia made a note to mention it to Ghasfik, but otherwise let it go. She might technically be on leave, but if she wanted to finish any significant training, she needed to hurry.

Celivia turned to finally leave and heard "Not so fast!" behind her. Ghalia pushed her way to her feet, dropped her empty mug over Big Ragh's head, and stomped after her. "You're not leaving me with these idiots! I want to see Castle Wahles."

Though she'd called them idiots, the men just laughed and shouted insults back. As much progress as Celivia had made, she wasn't sure she would ever have Ghalia's easy way with them. Her friend grabbed her axe from beside the door and followed her outside.

"How are you not drunk?" Reina asked.

"Oh, that's changed ever since my Catai rebirth. There's just too much of me to get drunk on weak piss like this." Ghalia laughed and roughly ran a hand over Reina's head. "You look like you'd fall unconscious after a single cup."

"Not exactly. A Bersk body becomes drunk very quickly, but it fades into a headache soon and I sober just as quickly."

"Hah! You're fast in every way, then."

As the two of them continued talking from either side of her, Celivia felt slight surprise that Ghalia hadn't been aware of that. Thinking back, Reina had only drunk wine in her presence, and apparently Reina hadn't mentioned it to others. Once, they'd shared every insignificant detail of their rebirths, but the years had sent them drifting to different continents.

Celivia enjoyed the friendly bickering between the two of them as they concluded her business regarding supplies for her band. By the time she had finished everything except the matter of the equipment chit, Fijn was waiting outside the quartermaster's building.

"Several people claimed that Daekhan didn't even exist." Fijn shrugged, but she caught a hint of a sly smile on his lips. "But then someone handed me a note inviting you to go to this specific tower and stand accomplishing nothing."

"Well then, I suppose we shall." Celivia briefly glanced at the note, its neat handwriting confirming what Fijn said, and then led the group toward their destination.

It was, unsurprisingly, an empty tower. Though it had been well-swept, there was no other sign that it had been used in recent memory. Reina peered around the corners, looking for another door, while Celivia watched the one they had entered. After the pause stretched too long, Ghalia sighed.

"You don't suppose...?"

"He did warn us." Celivia gestured for them to wait longer, however, and eventually Daekhan strolled through the door.

Though he wore different armor than their previous encounter and a new hat, he had the same steel skewer stuck between his teeth. This time he carried a spear over his shoulder, thin but apparently pure metal. Considering the weight, few warriors used them unless they were concerned with the shaft being broken. It was an elegantly crafted weapon, but Daekhan tossed it into a corner.

"Sorry, I was training." His eyes flickered over the group before returning to her. "I presume that you need more equipment?"

"Something like that." She handed him the chit, which he either ignored or read instantly. "Fijn here will talk to you about what equipment my band could use most. They're here in Castle Wahles, so I hope everything can be properly fitted this time."

"I won't do that personally, but I can arrange it. You're noted as deserving of superior equipment, so it's good that you came to me. What do you need?"

In response, Celivia drew her weapons. "My whip has seen many years of use, but I don't know if you have smiths who can forge another one."

"They could if you gave them the diagrams and enough time, but I doubt you have either."

"In that case, my duusha horn knives are in poor shape. I've taken care of them as best I can, but..."

Daekhan took them from her hands and examined the worn weapons with a careful eye, the skewer in his mouth twitching. As he finished, it slid back and forth sharply. "The problem isn't maintenance, it's that they aren't withstanding the force being put on them."

"I know I could prevent that with superior sein, but I've been thrown against a large number of opponents recently."

"You could, but you shouldn't have to." He flipped the knives into the air and caught each by one of the tines to hand them back to her hilt-first. "If you had solid bloodsteel, most likely your knives would be untouched. Unfortunately, all our best smiths are currently dedicated to forging bloodsteel weapons for Knakar."

After listening for so long, Ghalia couldn't contain herself. "Who the fuck is Knakar, to just take all the smiths?"

"I wish I could tell you, but other than that he's close to the Zeitai, I have no idea. He always sends his requests by messenger."

"If you haven't seen this Knakar," Reina said crossly, "then it could be a woman."

"Could be, assuming this particular woman needs to requisition a large number of armored codpieces."

"Hah!" Ghalia brought her axe forward, the over-sized weapon dominating the space in between them. "Is this bloodsteel truly worth it? The warrior makes the weapon."

Fijn shook his head slowly. "I don't know about that... I've heard incredible rumors about what it can do, and credible ones too. They say with a bloodsteel sword, even an untrained soldier could draw blood from a Catai."

"You want to stab me, little man?"

Ignoring them, Celivia focused solely on Daekhan. "If there's no bloodsteel available, why bring it up?"

Daekhan regarded her coolly with an unknowable expression before he pulled the skewer from this mouth. "All our smiths are busy, but if you don't mind lesser quality weapons, there are human smiths who could forge it as well."

"Lesser quality? I assumed the mansthein smiths learned it from them."

"You could say that." As Daekhan tucked his skewer back between his lips, he hid his mouth, but she saw something like a smile. It was gone the next moment, so she merely tucked the glimpse away. "I didn't want to cause offense, but if you're open to the idea, then I can arrange for bloodsteel knives."

"I have no problem with that." Celivia matched his cool gaze with her own. "I didn't realize that the mansthein armies had connections in human-controlled Wahleen."

"We've been living here for some time... but that's not really important information, for soldiers who are heading directly into war in the Sotunn Mountains." Daekhan turned to speak with Fijn over the specific details, obviously unwilling to share more.

Though she left them to it, Celivia found herself turning over the exchange in her mind. Daekhan would not have brought it up by accident, but it was nearly impossible to parse his intentions. She guessed that he wanted to test her feelings regarding humans - everything beyond that was mere speculation.

Over the next several days, Celivia focused on physical training alongside spending time with Reina and Ghalia. She engaged in a great many contests of strength with Ghalia, mostly because the Catai enjoyed overpowering her repeatedly with her enhanced body. Though Celivia had again requested a Catai rebirth, she heard nothing in response.

Reina, meanwhile, was a perfect partner for intense use of sein. As they sparred, however, Celivia found herself comparing her old friend to Slaten. Though Reina was unmatched when it came to opening the floodgates of raw sein, Slaten's precisely focused assaults were threatening in a different way. She wished that she could introduce the two just to see them spar, though of course Reina would hate Slaten personally.

She had hopes for her friends spending more time with Jeraeli, but the other woman was completely busy in the west. Her attempts to visit Jeraeli only led to Ghalia making lewd implications, so she let it go. There was a chance that all of them would fight in the southern war together, so she would anticipate that.

But the next time someone knocked on her door, it wasn't her assignment. Instead, a Voidwalker regarded her with a bored expression.

"Naena Celivia? Zeitainan Kreue requests your presence immediately."

"He's far enough to require voidwalking?" As she spoke she quickly grabbed her weapons and a few other supplies, since it seemed unlikely that she would be given any preparation time.

"Correct. You don't actually need to come immediately, but I'd rather not waste time."

"Of course. I don't want to delay your schedule."

"Oh, it's not that." The Voidwalker leaned on the side of her door frame, picking at a loose thread on his shirt. "My job is solely to address the Zeitai's transportation needs. But he is already near the limits of his patience, so I suggest you not test him."

Having a personal Voidwalker was a mind-numbing luxury, but Celivia tried not to let it overwhelm her. She only changed her outer robe to a cleaner one, then went to join the Voidwalker by the door. "Do we need to g-"

"Here is fine." He stepped toward her and pulled her into a speck of oblivion.

It wasn't so long before the real world unfolded around them. Celivia noted that the temperature was nearly the same and the sun had only moved somewhat. That would be an unremarkable jump, except that by her rough calculation it placed them within the borders of Portant.

When she saw the Voidwalker turn around, Celivia followed his movement and then understood.

A vast pit had been torn from the rolling green hills, as if a giant had simply scooped up the earth. Yet when she walked to the edge, she saw that it the sides were actually a series of carefully dug ridges, with steep ramps placed throughout. The mine as a whole appeared to have begun with a large circular pit, which now ended in a pool of green water, but further work had expanded it into an ungainly blob of countless pits, ledges, and tunnels.

"Looks like they've moved." The Voidwalker continued to walk ahead of her, though he looked back to give her a long-suffering glance. "That makes my work a great deal harder, but the Zeitai does what the Zeitai wants."

"Do you know what the Zeitai wants from me?"

"I only follow orders. Whatever it is, I suggest you cooperate."

As they descended one of the roads into the mine, Celivia realized that it was more active than she had expected at first. The workers on the other side looked like insects, only their carts of rubble easily visible. Closer to her, she could observe the workers better. Strangely, they didn't have Wahleenese mottling, but most appeared to be from Fein Karnak. They were also rather scrawny for workers, tired men with torn clothes and dying tools.

"Oh, there they are." The Voidwalker gestured to the side and Celivia spotted Zeitai Kreue standing atop a ridge between two deeper pits. Even from a distance, she could feel the oppressive presence, a cloud wrapped around her throat. This time it seemed to radiate disapproval, and though it was too far away to see his face, she suspected the Zeitai glared at everything below.

When they drew close, she realized that the Zeitai wasn't alone. The young woman in the white dress clung to one of his legs, occasionally pawing at his loincloth. While Celivia attempted to swallow her reaction to that, Kreue turned his head and spotted them.

"Finally. That's enough, Laeluon, you can return until we need you. Celivia, come up here."

There was no ramp or other way to the ridge, like an island without a sea, but Celivia was equal to the task of leaping to the top. She felt as though the Zeitai's presence should push her back in midair, though the impression of sein was only in her mind. When she landed, the pressure lessened, an invitation to step closer.

"At first, I thought there might be nothing to you." Kreue turned to her, the concentration of force binding her in place several paces away. His movement dragged the young woman across the ground, though she only pouted. "But you wiped out one of the raider clans, you worked well under Jeraeli, and above all... you reached the Hero when so many others missed him."

"Jeraeli deserves the credit for discerning the correct rumors."

"But you do have a connection to the Hero, do you not?"

Celivia swallowed, which had no effect on the lump in her throat. "I think so."

"Then I have a use for you after all." Kreue stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. "You appear to be more driven than I first thought, yet you have no interest in enjoying the fruits of your labor. I don't care if you refuse my gifts. Those are the concerns of the leeches wriggling around me. But I need to know why you seek strength and authority if I am to give you any."

"I..." It was difficult to breathe so close to the Zeitai, but she didn't see any choice except to answer with guarded honesty. "I want strength in order to make the world into the place I believe it should be."

Kreue snorted and the young woman around his leg laughed. "An idealist, then. That's harmless enough, but you're a fool. Everyone thinks that if they become strong enough, they can have whatever they want, but that's not how the world works. Even becoming a Zeitai was not enough for me... though perhaps two Zeitai working in concert could truly be masters of their world."

All she could do was stare back at him, keeping her knees locked to avoid retreating. Was he suggesting a theoretical alliance between them in the far future, or merely musing to himself? She disliked the anger in his gaze, but she still preferred this focused Kreue to the one who lounged amid a submissive harem.

"Enough of this. You are here for two reasons: first, you must tell me all that you remember of your time in Ith Ire. There was a mining operation, was there not?"

"That's correct." Celivia hesitated, unable to put the pieces together, but told him all the details that seemed relevant.

After listening carefully, Kreue scowled and turned to the edge of the ridge. The young woman finally let go of his leg, just lying in the dirt and kicking her legs irritably. Eventually Celivia decided that it would be best to follow him, though she stayed a step back and looked out over the layers of the mine instead of making eye contact with the Zeitai.

"Everything about this is wrong." He growled out the words, more to himself than to her, yet it seemed that he intended to explain. "The direction regarding this mine came from feeble graspers in the Senate, maggots with no power except coin. I accepted the offer only because I thought it would help destabilize the balance between the human nations."

"I thought that this mine was an official agreement between Wahleen and Portant."

"It was. We worked through them. But when I attempted to cause havoc, I received a reprimand and decreased support. Someone wants this mine to stay open, and I'm not so sure it's actually anyone in the Senate. So many parts of this have the stink of other Zeitai..." Kreue cut off with an actual growl, an instinctual sound from deep within his chest.

"Kreue, how long do I have to sit here in the dirt?" The young woman pouted from her seated position. "Stop talking to this girl so we can do something more fun..."

To Celivia's surprise, Kreue laughed and walked over to the young woman, picking her up effortlessly by her hips. He lifted her like she weighed nothing, then leaned forward, his tongue invading her mouth. Celivia did her best to watch without expression until they finally finished and Kreue turned back to her.

"The second reason you are here is because I suspect that something in this place has a connection to the Hero." Kreue folded his arms, sharp fingernails tapping against his biceps like steel on steel. "Some arrogant fool thinks that they can sweep in and take something of value from under our noses. But I can play that game too, and I will use you as my hunting beast."

Aside from the demeaning metaphor, Celivia felt a worse alarm. "You want me to find something in the mine? I can feel the Hero's effect on mansthein, but that doesn't grant me any deeper connection."

"I think you're wrong on that. Stay here. I will move everyone out of our way so that you can investigate the deepest parts of the mine."

Kreue leapt off the ridge into the pit below, bellowing at one of the workers. He began moving from place to place, giving orders and occasionally kicking over a cart when the workers failed to evacuate quickly enough. Celivia could only watch for a short time before she had to look away, which made her gaze fall on the young woman.

She had picked herself up and now watched Kreue with a strange expression on her face. Were there hints of fear there, or something else? It was certainly different than the fawning adoration she usually showed while clinging to the Zeitai, so Celivia decided that this might be her only opportunity to ask a question.

"May I ask how old you are?"

The young woman immediately turned to her with a sneer. "You want to rescue the poor girl, is that it? I'm older than you, some of us merely keep our youthful good looks."

"I see." Celivia couldn't bring herself to apologize, but after a glance toward Kreue, pressed on. "If that is so, then I've never met a mansthein quite like you. Did you undergo an unusual rebirth, or...?"

"You've been hurt, haven't you? You were broken, so you assume that everyone else must be broken as well." The young woman laughed and tossed aside her pure white hair. "I count myself lucky to be able to spend life alongside a creature as magnificent as Kreue. He'll keep you so long as you're useful, but I've seen the look in your eyes, and I eagerly await the day when you're thrown aside."

"I see." Celivia realized that she had repeated herself, but the conversation had her mind spinning backward. She could never imagine taking such a path through life and struggled even to accept it as the choice of another. Part of her would have tried, but the casual disregard from the young woman left a sour taste in her mouth.

Before they could say anything else, Kreue landed beside them, sending dust flying in all directions. He scooped the young woman up onto his shoulder, which made her giggle. Celivia swallowed her distaste and followed as he leapt back down from the ridge, this time methodically making his way toward one of the pits in the side of the mine wall.

"Someone tried to slip past me with an order to expand the mine in several directions." Kreue gestured forward as they leapt again. "I intercepted their message, but I don't know who or why. But I am convinced that something related to the Legend must lie down one of these paths. I want you to tell me which one."

Celivia nodded, because that was all she could do. They traveled down the corridor, which was littered with signs of work but empty of life. She felt absolutely nothing, which made her feel like a fool. The Zeitai expected something from her that she simply didn't think that she could deliver. "Do... do you have any idea what you might be looking for?"

"One of my most trusted agents captured a human working with this Sage in the south." Kreue shook his head slowly. "Before he died, he suggested that the Sage cares about something called 'seals' that relate to the Hero in some way. But that is irrelevant to you, I have better sources of intelligence. What I lack is someone who looked the Hero in the eye and fought him. Do you feel anything strange here?"

"I will need to feel more than one tunnel."

"Then turn this way." Kreue led her back out, then into another tunnel in a different direction. It felt just the same as the others, and by the third tunnel on the other side of the mine, Celivia was beginning to imagine tortures that would be inflicted on her if she failed to produce results.

Her stomach clenched painfully. She assumed it was merely her anxiety and then immediately questioned her assumption. That was the way the Hero lurked, seizing control of her very nature. Not an oppressive force from without, but control from within.

Or it could be simple anxiety, given that a Zeitai breathed down her neck. Celivia forced herself to keep walking, attempting to examine her feelings, but only further entangled herself in her thoughts. When they reached the end of the tunnel and climbed back toward the surface, she found herself struggling with whether or not to say anything. It might go poorly for her if she answered incorrectly, but giving no answer at all might be worse...

Then she saw the women and her mind plummeted into the depths of the pits.

She barely even noticed that their skin had Fkaz coloring because her eyes were captured by the ragged garments they wore. Exactly the same as those she remembered from Spathor. If there had been any doubt as to their purpose, nearly all of the women had swelled, many nearly ready to spawn. Several guards moved alongside them, bulky Feinan warriors unlike the miserable male workers. They were unnecessary, as none of the women even raised their eyes from the path before them.

Celivia should have been able to control herself, but she stopped walking and stared. This was nothing like the knots in her stomach, everything within her had simply dropped away. It was impossible to deny that she was witnessing one of the most contemptible corners of mansthein tradition, dying on Orphos and yet being recreated on a new continent.

"They're being moved from one of the older tunnels," Kreue said as he came up behind her. "There were no orders to mine deeper there, but I thought it best to be thorough."

"What... why are they...?"

"Are you that thick? To seize the northern nations without being given more legions, we need to breed new generations of Deathspawn. The Wahleenese mansthein breed far too slowly and are too set in their ways. But new spawn, put through the proper rebirths... in two decades my army will rival any Zeitai's."

She barely heard the words, still staring at the women as they were herded into another tunnel. Then Kreue stepped closer, looming over her, seizing her gaze. What she saw there was not the predatory expression she feared, but the merciless indifference she realized was far worse.

"You should know better than to fear. This is war, not the foolish old teachings from Fein Karnak. All of the most worthless - male or female - will be put to work so that their lives will still be of some use to their superiors. They will build a better world for those of us who can make proper use of it."

As she stared back, for the first time Celivia was no longer overwhelmed by the Zeitai's presence. It couldn't compare to the agonizing tension growing within her.

A more intelligent woman would have nodded and accepted his logic. She was a minor officer who had no right to speak to a Zeitai, much less argue. All she could do was remain quiet until she could advance far enough to gain control and prevent such things from ever happening again. Speaking up would only set her further back from making a true difference.

Yet she had been telling herself that for years. As painful memories clawed their way up her body, Celivia decided that she had no choice. If she said nothing now, even if meant nothing, then all her future accomplishments would be as ash.

"This isn't right."

Her words immediately earned a glare from Kreue and his presence closed around her, but it could no longer encompass her.

"These practices have always been the weakness of Fein Karnak." In another setting, other women might have argued that her approach conceded too much to the enemy, speaking of benefits instead of justice. Here, all she could do was scramble for an argument that might reach the Zeitai. "It produced large armies, but weak ones. That was why the Senate conquered them ages ago, and wh-"

"I know of the shortcomings of breeding pits. But I require numbers if I am to conquer, and nothing else will be so effective." Kreue stared down at her as if she were babbling like an infant. "Do you truly care so much for such worthless creatures? They would never have become anything on Orphos, either. At least this way they can contribute to our cause."

"But they cann-"

"And what about the men?" The young woman propped her elbows on Kreue's shoulder and stared down at Celivia from the cradle of her hands. "You shed no tears for them."

"I assumed they were workers employed by the army." Celivia clenched her eyes closed, trying to let their rebuttals slough off her. What mattered was reaching them in some way. "The pits breed fear. Generations of men who refuse to sleep with women who are their equals because they can never allow themselves to be vulnerable to a warrior who could threaten them. There will be no children of warriors, and they will never know what it's like to be with someone they trust..."

Kreue laughed uproariously and she knew that her cause was hopeless. The young woman joined in, taking particular joy in seeing Celivia derided. She had seen that before too.

"No more of this." Kreue grinned down at her. "If you want to impose such ideals on the world, conquer your own nation and then see how long they last. For now, you will help find this connection to the Legend, to the best of your ability."

There had been a chance that he would strike her down, but it seemed she received only derision. Celivia snapped a fist to her chest and spoke flatly. "As you command, Zeitainan Kreue."

"Yes. Everything is as I command."

Celivia moved quickly to the next tunnel, examining her own feelings and pretending to ignore every group of women. Compared to the steady horror pulsing within her, the tension in her stomach felt like a petty thing. Perhaps it was the Legend, perhaps not. Stories that carried the message of everything meant nothing.

Gradually she felt a pattern: her stomach grew tightest in the west while easing to the east. In one tunnel she thought she even felt a flare of irrational anger. All of it could have been her imagination, and she had no idea if she was deluding herself. But when they finished their explorations and Kreue demanded to know what she had felt, she was certain in her answer.

"Dig to the east."

Chapter 39

-

"A woman's hair is her glory, which is why it must be appropriately presented. The most proper position is a braid coiled about the head, but a tight band will suffice in times of duress. Only brazen strumpets would wear their hair unbound in public, but a lock or two might be allowed free if one wishes to be bold in appropriate company. Hair falling free while female errants are in training can be avoided with proper braiding, and should never be allowed to lead to uncontrolled passions."

- Portantese Young Lady's Handbook

-

As the enemy fled, Mohuno waited for the perfect moment to let out a cry of victory. Too early and some of the men would still be recovering. Too late and the cry wouldn't strike terror into the enemy, or worse, his men might think he lacked confidence. Mohuno picked up one of the men who had fallen to buy time, then raised his sword and let out a shout after the fleeing raiders.

The Steelbone clan echoed his cry and victory pulsed through his blood.

Mohuno paced over the valley that had served as their battlefield. The uninjured men he struck on the shoulder and laughed with, while those who had received more serious injuries he commanded to take messages back to the village. That way the fools might actually recover instead of killing themselves.

From the corner of his eye he spotted someone throwing aside an axe. He immediately reeled on the man, one of their new recruits. "What are you doing, man?"

"That axe was shit." The burly man patted the weapon at his side. "The boys of other clans are playing with sticks compared to the new weapons you've brought us."

"Remember, the trash of the Steelbone clan is the prize of lesser clans." Mohuno grinned and gestured toward the axe. "Take it back. Our women can sell it to weak children after they cower from us."

The man laughed and went to get the axe. Mohuno kept grinning as he moved on, glad that it was becoming easier to influence the men. Every little change had been like forcing a boulder up a mountain, but now he'd finally reached level ground. They all did as he commanded, even if only a few understood his reasons.

Once, many of their weapons had been forged from brittle iron, but now most of the men in the clan carried steel. They considered it the spoils of victory, which was a lie. The majority of their weapons had been acquired via trade, not battle. He had seen the true value of the treasures that raiders usually looted and sought to use them better.

Some of the men considered it weakness, but Mohuno considered it no different than the strength of blood. Weak boys had blood that barely pumped through their veins and men had hotter blood, but the strongest of men knew when to let their blood flow and when to hold back. Spending one's strength before the proper time was merely waste.

In the same way, he saw how raiding and smashing was the weakness of boys. By trading away the useless luxuries they found, they could increase the strength of the Steelbone clan. Some men from broken tribes had even come to join them, hearing how well they ate and drank.

Many called him the greatest man in the Steelbones. Yet with every action Mohuno found himself instead thinking of that damn girl. He furiously pushed her from his mind and gathered his men to return to the nearest village.

Instead of the central Steelbone village, they would spend the night in a village captured from the Hardblood clan. Though he needed their home village to remain a place of respect, Mohuno had been moving his men from place to place more frequently. If his enemies never knew where their forces sat, they couldn't know where to attack. He might lose a village when he found an opponent bold enough to strike anyway, but for now the other clans feared all of them.

Just in case they made an attempt against him, Mohuno gathered several strong and uninjured men with him as they returned. Yet when they reached the village, he saw only anticipation. The boys even stared at him in adoration, now wanting nothing more than to join the men of the Steelbones.

"Your village is safe!" Mohuno raised a fist over his head and exalted in the cheers of the villagers. As they rushed closer, he upended a sack of some of the trivial items they had taken from their enemy. Nothing that his men would want, but small items useful to herders and farmers.

All the villagers wept and thanked him as they scrabbled for the treasures at his feet. Nothing but gratitude, because of all the good things he brought their village.

Tani had been wrong. Completely wrong.

Mohuno insisted that his men stay alert before beginning any celebrations, to be prepared in the event of a counter attack. Yet as the day wore on, his caution proved unnecessary yet again. A few of the men bridled at the discipline, but they were mostly distracted as other men returned bearing more of the spoils of victory. The smells of the villagers cooking a feast for them set the men's blood flowing as well, building their anticipation.

When at last everyone was accounted for and a guard had been set, Mohuno gave the command to signal that the battle had ended. Nothing remained but to celebrate.

He drank several mugs of ale and tore through a whole roasted cockatrice the grateful villagers offered him, but Mohuno's blood was up. Food and drink would not satisfy him, not like this. There was only one way to celebrate such a victory.

As one of the larger villages, this place had more than a few women to choose from. Mohuno saw a woman with hips he'd kill for smiling lustily at him, and once he would have gladly taken her to a room. That night, his eyes instead fell on a slim young woman with short dark hair. There was something about the way she smiled when he made eye contact that sent his blood pumping.

It had nothing to do with anyone she resembled.

After saying his farewells to his strongest men, Mohuno went to her, took the pitcher from her hands, and guided her from the hall. He didn't force her. He'd never forced anyone. She even took his hand and led him back to a small house with a few ragged furs on the floor. After he warmed her for that night, he'd leave her with a thicker fur and she'd remember him fondly.

Except Tani was in his blood, leaving him hard with memories of her, not this girl. Some men could fool themselves and imagine another woman, but Mohuno had never been able to imagine it. He did his best to push Tani from his mind, but couldn't help comparing this shy girl to the fierce passion he remembered so clearly...

He guided the woman to the ground in defiance of that memory. She seemed hesitant at first, but as he slid a hand between her legs she soon gave him a sweet moan. Her body might not be ready, so he moved his fingers gently, guiding her until she was slick for him. It simply took her body some time to catch up to her moans and that smile.

Mohuno realized that he stood atop a peak with two paths. He could have cast aside his doubts, fucked the girl, and slept soundly. He should have. But he never ran from a fight, even one against a ghost in his head.

In one swift movement, Mohuno snarled and grabbed the girl by the neck.

Instant terror.

His plan had been to caress her soothingly, reassure her that he was only playing. Instead his hand remained locked on her neck as he saw the fear ripple through her. And with that flinch, he tumbled down the wrong side of the mountain.

If she had truly wanted him, there should have been a heartbeat of confusion or surprise. He wanted to see surprise in her eyes and failed to lie to himself. Instead his action had stripped away the mask of pleasure to reveal the fear that had been there all along, just as she said.

"Fuck!" Mohuno let go of the woman's neck and instead drove his fist through the wall. He didn't even feel it break.

The woman scrabbled away from him, pulling her arms and legs against herself as she watched with dread. Because that had been what she always expected from him. Mohuno spat out more curses and stormed from the hut, leaving her huddled in terror behind him. Because nothing had changed. His sword still hung over her head as surely as if he held it there himself.

Out in the cold of the night, Mohuno released an incoherent shout of rage skyward. His anger only seemed to make his cock harder, mocking him, yet now the blood pumping through his body had no outlet. It would never be possible for him to fool himself again, leaving him with nothing.

"Something wrong, Mohuno?" One of the men emerged from another hut, a bicorn leg in one hand and a woman against his side. "Girl fight back?"

"It's nothing." Mohuno let all his anger become a look of scorn. "Go back and enjoy the spoils of victory."

The man nodded and pulled the woman back in with him. She laughed and Mohuno could hear nothing false in her laugh, but how could he know? Even if she wanted the men of the Steelbone clan, did it matter? He would always think about that fear he'd seen, as if he was nothing but a wild beast. Which he was.

Mohuno furiously paced from the village, waving aside the guards. As he walked out, his mind devoured every detail of his memories of Tani.

With her, he could be certain. His blood ran hotter than hers, but she had never feared him. She would never pretend to be someone else like the villager girl, never submit to his rage. If she ever let him touch her, it would be because she actually wanted him.

Yet she had gone north, never to return. Mohuno found a tree and began hacking at it. None of his blood flowed properly, so instead of cutting through with a single stroke, his blade only gouged chunks from the bark. He loosed his rage against the trunk, wild strikes without any discipline, over and over until his sword stuck deep in the side.

All at once he was exhausted. His blood flowed hotter than before, but he had no strength in his arms. The edge of his blade had twisted slightly, leaving it trapped in the wood. Once it would have been easy to simply tear it free, but now the tree resisted him. Something about that meaningless fact left him empty of everything else.

He kicked just above his blade, snapping the tree in half. Not a proper man's blow, his blood burning within him, but a cold strike. It could just as easily have gone through a man's chest.

Mohuno returned the sword to his side and stared at the broken trunk.

~ ~ ~

After having kept Tani from his mind for so long, now Mohuno couldn't shake her. The Steelbones were stronger than they had ever been before, yet with every preparation and every victory he only thought of her. His men noticed his fury and completely misunderstood.

To prevent himself from making any foolish mistakes, Mohuno left their movements in the command of his uncle and returned to the central village. Once it might have been a good place to relax and enjoy himself, but now he went only to confirm another part of the plan. If his new mercantile efforts were successful, they might cast out part of her memory.

Everyone greeted him as he arrived, but Mohuno pushed past them. He looked instead for the boy who scowled at him, trying to remember his name. Rudako, that was it. Though no one in the village refused him, Rudako always had that same look.

"What do you want?"

"Well, you're looking strong!" Mohuno looked him up and down. "Keep up your work and I'll be asking you to join the Steelbones!"

"I don't want to join your clan." Rudako did finally loosen his grip on his spear. "Stop suggesting it."

Mohuno shrugged - it had been a lie anyway. The boy didn't have hot enough blood to fight like a man. Or a hot-blooded woman, or that damn girl. "I need to speak to your sister."

"I don't like any of this. It's putting her at risk..." Before Rudako could say more, his sister emerged from one of the houses behind them and he immediately shut his mouth.

As she approached, Mohuno watched her carefully. He'd spent one night with her, more because she was the only woman of the right age in her village than because she was beautiful or even pretty. Had any of that been real? She smiled when she saw him, but it was a flat expression without any heart behind it. No, he doubted that she ever thought of their night together.

Or, if she did...

"I need to discuss the ombos." Mohuno jerked his head for her to follow, shaking away unnecessary thoughts with the same movement. Cabari bobbed her head in agreement and returned briefly to pick up a basket before following him. Her brother stamped the butt of his spear against the ground and returned to scowling.

"This litter was better than the last." Cabari reached into the basket and handed him a piece of ombo wool. "The first litters after moving were so thin, the quality of the wool was low. I was confused at first, because we raised the ombos the same, but then I realized that we were feeding them different greens because different ones grow here. I don't know which is-"

"I assume you will figure that out. How is the sewing going?"

"That is... not so well." Cabari meekly pulled another piece of fabric from her basket - fearfully? Ignoring her for the moment, Mohuno grabbed the wool and shook out the garment.

Instead of a traditional cloth of a clan, it was one of the cloak-like garments he'd seen errants and travelers wear in the north. The proportions were right, and the wool was soft indeed. But when he compared it to everything he had seen, he knew it was too weak. Mohuno tightened his jaw to prevent him from hurling the cloth to the ground and instead handed it back to her.

"I know that it isn't very good now. "Cabari lowered her head and stuffed the wool away. "But I think we can do better over time..."

"No." Mohuno knuckled his eyes roughly and then shook his head. "Practice all you want on your own garments, but we can't compete with these. Do you remember those... sticks of fabric they had in the north?"

"Bolts of cloth?"

"Yes. Those. To start, we should just create the best wool we can. We'll raid you some of those sticks and we can sell them for more."

Cabari nodded and smiled again. He thought that smile was real, since it was about her work, not him. Once he might have yelled at her, but now he was only tired. The truth was that the Steelbone clan simply could not compete by the standards of strength many merchants used. Though the girl knew her ombos and Mohuno could puzzle out some on his own, he wasn't capable of everything he knew should be possible.

They might have spoken of more, but at that moment Mohuno heard shouting from near the village entrance. He rushed there, hand on his sword, and found several women and boys surrounding a man. The Steelbone panted for breath with his hands on his knees, yet he wasn't wounded. A message?

"Mohuno!" The man straightened when he saw him, hacked up phlegm, and managed to speak. "Deathspawn... lots of Deathspawn!"

"Attacking? How did they get past our posts?" Mohuno drew his sword, eyes on the mountains around them before he realized they couldn't be near.

"Not... not attacking. They want... to talk."

Though Mohuno stared down at the man, it appeared to be the truth. From that moment on, his movement had a dream-like feel. As he determined the direction and ran to meet them, his thoughts drifted higher than the highest peaks.

Deathspawn did not simply wander this deep into the Sotunn Mountains, fighting or talking. They weren't part of his world, only something referenced in stories, or by the occasional travelers. He knew that those who claimed the largest passes both fought them and fled from them, but they weren't supposed to be part of his clan's life.

If they did come in violence, Mohuno wasn't sure what he would do. Once, he would have declared war, like the men of any clan would do. But he felt certain that the Deathspawn had warriors as strong as the errants of the north. His clan had no chance against the larger clans, much less a true national military.

When he found them, the Deathspawn and his men camped on opposite sides of a valley, staring at one another suspiciously. A large group of his men, none injured but all tense. On the other side, he could see a horde of Deathspawn. Each would be weaker than he expected, but together they might be the equal of any one of his groups.

None of them could tell him anything about what the Deathspawn wanted, so Mohuno decided to take matters into his own hands. He walked directly out into the valley, ignoring the Deathspawn soldiers as they reacted to him. Instead he merely searched the group, eventually finding one of the giant Deathspawn.

"What do you want?" Mohuno demanded from a safe distance.

The giant blinked in surprise and turned to another, a smaller and older Deathspawn. Both of them rose to meet him, the giant following behind. Clearly not the leader, and he should have known. If the Deathspawn allowed boys to fight, it was no surprise that their leaders might have cold blood as well. As they approached, however, he saw that the older Deathspawn's armor was scarred but well cared for.

"The mansthein will soon begin a military operation in the mountains." The leader had a strange accent, but his voice was strong. "You may have fought us in the past, but we do not seek to fight you now. If you allow us to pass, we will not exterminate you."

"Hah." Mohuno would have scoffed further, but he realized that he had no Steelbones with him. There was no need to posture when finding out what they wanted mattered more. "If you aren't here to fight us, why are you here?"

"We seek another foe beyond your lands. All you need do is let us pass."

"That didn't answer the question."

Most boys would have retreated at Mohuno's tone, but the Deathspawn leader didn't budge, staring back at him. "Those are secrets of our armies and we will not share them with those who might be our enemies. If we wanted to attack you, why would we announce ourselves?"

"Maybe because you wanted us to let you march in before you turned on us."

Abruptly the giant Deathspawn growled, a sound of frustration that struck Mohuno as surprisingly familiar. "We don't care about you. Our leader just wants to kill the Sage of Mount Tmil."

The leader cursed at the giant in the Deathspawn tongue, but it was obviously too late. Unless it was some mad scheme, that must be the truth. Mohuno folded his arms over his chest as he considered just what that meant. It was a worthless excuse for anyone else. If he hadn't heard Tani speak about the Sage, he would have dismissed it. Apparently they sought the same Sage that her "hero" sought.

With a flickering impulse, Mohuno again chose a path and leapt from the mountain. "We don't like the Sage either. Pass if you want. But tell me: do you need assistance through the mountains?"

Both Deathspawn stared at him, then the leader spoke carefully. "What do you mean?"

"If you're blundering around trying to find clan leaders, you won't get far. You obviously don't know enough about clan territories. And how many supplies can you carry once you leave the largest passes? We could provide you with food, or better clothes as spring turns to summer."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because you'd pay us." Mohuno gave both of them his best smile. "We don't trust each other, but we don't need to. We give you what you want in return for something we want. There's nothing simpler."

The leader glanced at his giant companion, then back to him with a strange expression. "We've made contact with three clans so far, and this is the first time we've had any success in negotiations."

"The Steelbones are not like other clans. Do we have a deal?"

Chapter 40

-

"Emlioon was the daughter of a merchant and pledged to marry a nobleman. But though the daughter of a merchant, she found her joy on the battlefield. She had defeated all foes before the day she met Emdore on the field of battle, and they fought, halberd against lance. And as lance met halberd, Emlioon felt a joy that she had never felt in the halls of her mother and father."

- excerpt from The Tale of Emdore and Emlioon

-

It had been over half a year since Slaten had traveled through the Sotunn Mountains, though it felt much longer. Since they had first encountered the raiding clans, he had become physically stronger and learned a few tricks, yet much more had changed than he expected. That had been made clear by every encounter so far.

Not that there had been many. Everyone in their group was armed and the errants looked more than a little intimidating. The only ambush attempts had been when he and Tani scouted ahead, as they did now.

Effective methods of moving through the mountains had returned to him quickly, and even more quickly to Tani. He had felt her new awareness of her surroundings before, but in the uneven mountains her talent shone. She often closed her eyes as they ran, trusting him to observe anything not found within sein senses. And in turn...

"Up there." Tani opened her eyes and just briefly pointed toward an upcoming crag with her toe in the middle of a step. "Three raiders, likely with spears."

"Do you want to pull back and allow Melal to handle it?"

"There are only three." Tani smiled and fell into place alongside him as they advanced.

Though it was difficult not to show any tension as they approached the ambush, Slaten managed to pretend they were only walking together. He felt as though it would be more natural for them to talk but couldn't think of anything. Or perhaps a couple traveling in dangerous territory would be nervous and quiet.

Then people began throwing spears at him and he became much more comfortable.

Tani clenched her fist to signal to him the moment she felt their sein begin to move. She could somehow feel the raiders despite their unusual practice of sein, though she had only begun to draw her sickle knife. Alerted by her signal, Slaten was already moving, catching one spear out of the air and knocking another aside as he drew his sword.

He leapt at the crag, barely feeling the branches breaking against him as he closed the distance to the startled ambushers. Two reacted by dropping spears and drawing other weapons, but the third was raising his second spear, eyes only then widening in shock.

Slaten's leaping blow pushed aside the haft of his spear and bit deep into the raider's shoulder. The man was well-built, but he didn't yet have the stamina to fight through such a terrible wound. When Slaten pulled back his blade, the man fell off it with a cry of pain.

The other two rushed him without hesitation and Slaten stood his ground instead of retreating. Just when they flanked him, knives began flashing out, striking the arm and back of one of them. Tani clenched a fist and her strings of sein pulled the knives back to her, where she neatly arced the string around her hand and caught all three knives, ready to throw again.

Though they could have finished them then, Tani flinched in a strange way, eyes going to the bushes on the other side. Another raider emerged, startled but drawing a weapon. So she had missed one... not that it would matter.

Ignoring the knives spinning around them, Slaten fought smoothly at Tani's back. Now that she could use her knives endlessly, she only rarely needed to defend with her sickle knife. Her defense need only last for one movement before he stepped in and struck the one attacking her. Once she even succeeded in hooking the raider's weapon, making his task even easier.

The last of the raiders charged, so Slaten slipped into position for a strike. Tani threw first, but the raider reached up and grabbed the knife before it reached his face. It drew blood from his fingers when Tani attempted to jerk it back, but he wrenched it away with a roar and then hurled the knife behind him, sein broken.

That put him in position for Slaten's overhead cut. The raider had considerable strength, but he was off balance and only just managed to knock the blade aside. He and Slaten exchanged several blows before Slaten saw his moment and began to flip his sword to grasp it by the blade.

Immediately the raider lunged to take advantage of his weakness, but Slaten's hands were not merely shifting to grasp his blade. He smelled an inferno and a burst of sein shot from his fingers, striking the raider in the face.

Though the weak technique only made the raider stumble, that was enough. Slaten grasped his blade firmly, shifted his sein with memories of Olondris, and slammed the pommel into his opponent's head.

The man cracked backward and lay still. Slaten flipped his blade back into its proper position, ready for more ambushers, but the forest around them was quiet. Tani was smiling at him and at first he didn't understand. As his mind emerged from the battle he began to feel again and smiled back at her. It was good to fight together again.

Yet he was surprised to find how heavy his limbs felt. Even a brief fight at high intensity left him strangely tired: not breathing heavily and far from sore, yet drained of sein. Olondris had urged him to push forward and understand his sein deeper, but he feared there was some greater concern. Perhaps a hole had been opened in his identity and his sein simply drained out...

"I tried to disable instead of kill," Tani said, looking over the fallen. "Do you think the one with the shoulder injury will live?"

"That depends on his strength, or Laeri." Slaten knelt down beside the last of the raiders, examining the growing bruise covering his forehead. "I struck this one harder than I intended. I am... not sure how well they can survive such injuries."

"We aren't very far ahead of the others. It will depend on what Melal says."

They didn't need to wait long. Melal strode at the front of the group, his eyes fixed on the mountains ahead. When he glanced down at the bodies, for a moment it seemed that he would ignore them entirely, then he looked again. He bent down beside one of the fallen raiders nursing a wound and lifted him to his feet.

"What's your name, man?"

The raider stared at him suspiciously, then answered carefully. "I am Bh-"

"It doesn't matter who you were. What matters now is who you will be." Melal drew his sword and held it up so that it reflected the mountains around them. "We go now to fight an enemy stronger than you have ever known and to receive a reward greater than you can imagine. Will you join us?"

Slowly the man nodded. He looked toward the blade fearfully, yet it seemed to capture his gaze. Melal did not repeat his speech with the other raiders, he simply lifted them up and let them gaze into his sword. One by one, they fell into the group alongside the Bloodskin and Earthbreaker men, who accepted them without asking who they were or where they had been.

Melal's touch revived the warrior who had been knocked unconscious, though the man stared blankly at everything around him. The warrior bleeding out from his shoulder injury was left behind to die. Slaten considered the blade that had dealt the injury and returned it to its sheath.

As they entered Bloodskin territory, most of their group grew more relaxed, even the errants. All except Natala, who spent more time shadowing him. Her usual activity faded and she lowered her gaze, as if returning home had leeched everything from her.

When he met her dark gaze, he knew that was false. The deepest currents flowed strongest.

Eventually he decided that remaining silent would be a mistake and spoke to her quietly. "Do you need anything from me when we return to the village?"

"Only allow me to play my expected role." A slight smile appeared on her face. "And perhaps play a game of Yenith. It has been too long."

"Could I join you?" Tani asked. "I may not play Yenith, but I don't want to remain outside with all the Bloodskin men."

Slaten swallowed, unsure how to answer, and Natala took the thread from him. "Though you would be welcome, you do understand what they would assume about you, correct?"

Tani grimaced. "I can imagine, but they will assume many things about me regardless. I suppose the real question..."

Whatever the real question was, it was interrupted as Tani abruptly drew one of her knives. Slaten instantly responded as well, looking for another ambush. This time, Tani lowered her knife and frowned as she peered beyond the next hill toward something he could not see. Behind them, Natala quietly shifted her pack.

"There is another group approaching us," Tani said. "Unless something has gone wrong, it must be Bloodskin warriors."

Soon after, Tani's senses were proven correct when Chief Bufogu and another group of warriors came over the rise. A few of the Bloodskin men let out cries of joy and began to move toward one another, but they were interrupted as their Chieftain bounded forward, towering over all others.

"The long lost warriors return!" Chief Bufogu stepped past Melal to strike Patule on the shoulder instead. "You arrived at exactly the right time. With your help, we should be able to overtake the Whitebone clan and claim their lands, once and for all!"

"Who?" Melal moved to stand in front of Bufogu, ignoring the difference in their height. "I care not for the squabbles of a few clans. We have returned to wage war!"

"The Bloodskins are already at war. And if you have not forgotten, you were welcomed as one of us." Bufogu turned and spread his arms wide, ignoring the errants to embrace his clan. "The Whitebones thought that we would be weak with all of you gone, but we proved them wrong. Already we have struck down some of their strongest men, and now we need only press on to defeat them!"

"We did you a favor last time before you took us to Mount Tmil. This time, I need the Bloodskins to follow me first."

"You think the debt falls on our side? Have you forgotten that you took so many of my men off on some fool venture? Now is the perfect time to strike our enemies!"

"Now is the only time to fight the Deathspawn." Melal ignored everyone around him, yet they all hung on his words. "They have finally come for you, to cleanse the mountains of all human life. If we do not stop them now, in their first strike, it will be too late."

Chief Bufogu's eyes passed over the group, then his mouth emitted something like a laugh. "We can fight over this as men once we return to the village! Your war will wait for a feast, will it not?"

Melal's stare finally became a smile. "We could all use a long rest after our travels in the north."

"Then let us go!" Slinging an arm around the smaller man's shoulders, Bufogu led them all back the direction they had come. It seemed unlikely that the two of them would actually fight: the Bloodskin Chief was confident in his strength but also no fool. The two of them would squabble over their varying goals and no doubt settle upon something in the middle.

Slaten left Natala with Tani to walk close to the chieftain, listening for new information. Though Bufogu did not say it explicitly, between his words Slaten came to understand that he had not been idle. In their absence, he had made it clear that the Bloodskins were the Hero's clan, which had swelled their ranks. Some even viewed him as the Hero, a view that Bufogu did nothing to contradict. That belief would not last long in the presence of the real thing.

Unless Bufogu became the next Hero. Imagining what the Bloodskins might do with that power, Slaten resolved to guard Melal's back while they remained in the mountains.

The Bloodskin men who had stayed behind had many tales to tell of local skirmishes. More importantly, the strongest of them laid out a new picture of the mountains. Since Melal intended to simply march directly to Mount Tmil and slay anyone who stood in his path, Slaten did his best to capture that picture.

As always, the Stormpeaks posed a lethal threat over the entire central region. The Steelbones had grown in their absence and Slaten resolved to ask Tani more about them. A clan known as the Skullcrushers had acquired a fearsome reputation and currently struck out against others. Otherwise, the only clan relevant to the mansthein attack would be the other Earthbreakers, which made Slaten again wish that Veron had joined them.

When they reached the Bloodskin village, Slaten turned back and noted the reactions of the others. The Bloodskins were elated while the errants stared around them in helmed disapproval. Tani appeared immediately uncomfortable, especially after Natala vanished into the crowd of women who had come to greet them. Laeri also appeared discouraged by their return, every emotion clear in her large eyes.

Searching for a response within himself, Slaten found nothing but fragmentary thoughts and plans.

The first night after their return was consumed by a feast. Slaten ate his fill and then returned to his chambers with Natala. Though he easily ignored her false moans, she defeated him even more soundly than before, as if she had been playing Yenith during their travels. When he slept, he slept deeply.

In the morning, however, all woke to the question of their path onward. Bufogu and Melal argued loudly in the great hall, broken chairs and mugs the casualties of their battle. Because he knew he had no weight in such conflicts of passion, Slaten instead wandered through the village.

He found Tani soon, or rather she found him. Though he opened his mouth to ask her about her night, she shook her head and fell to walking alongside him. "How long do you think Melal will argue with their chieftain?"

"I do not know. But I do not think it will be long."

"Resting here would be a death of a thousand pebbles, and I don't want to train around the Bloodskins." Tani wrapped her arms around her torso as she led them past the errant camp by the entrance to the village. "But all signs suggest that the mansthein truly are preparing for war. There must be something that we can do to prepare."

Before he could find an answer, Slaten saw a cluster of boys from the village. Some lifted stones, some wrestled with one another, others smashed their heads together. He would have thought it drunken games if not for the early hour and the fact that Hogowo stood watching over them.

The older Bloodskin man regularly shouted at one boy or another, always mockery or scorn. Yet Slaten quickly realized that his shouts pointed out their shortcomings or sent them on a new path. There was a method to the mockery, a rough form of guidance. Though Slaten would not have expected such a method could produce results, he couldn't deny that it did.

"You there!" Hogowo leapt from his position to land beside a boy attempting to lift a stone much too large for him. "Stop bleeding over everyone! Your blood might be hot enough, but you need to feed it to your wolf, not throw it to the mountains!"

He struck the boy across the face, knocking him to the ground. In the absence of literal blood or wolves, Slaten had no choice but to take the words as metaphor, and they immediately struck something in him. He began to walk closer and Tani caught his sleeve.

"Slaten, are you really going to go talk to him? You've already taken their brute force, what can madness like this gain you?"

"I have several questions." He offered her an apologetic glance and continued, and after a heartbeat Tani followed, keeping him between her and the Bloodskins. They didn't get far before Hogowo walked to meet them, wiping his hands off on one of his outer cloths.

"These boys are the disgrace of the Bloodskin clan. But whether we fight for Bufogu or the Hero, we'll test ourselves soon enough. So I'd better find some way to turn a few of these fools into men, eh?"

"What did you mean about feeding their blood to wolves?"

Hogowo frowned at him, more out of reflex than any animosity. After looking over his shoulder and improbably insulting the manhood of another one of the boys, he stepped further away with them. Or rather, he stepped with Slaten, displaying no awareness of Tani's presence at all.

"Lowlanders don't understand blood. These errants... they may be men, but only steel runs in their veins." Hogowo regarded him seriously. "I do not know what runs in yours. Why ask these questions?"

"Since we joined your clan, I have sought to understand your strength. Now I feel both strong and weak at once. Do Bloodskin men ever feel such a thing?"

"Hnh. It might be the wolf wasting sickness."

"I am sorry, but I do not know what that is."

"The wolves are... a story for boys." Hogowo's face screwed up as if he needed to pass the explanation through his entire body. "Hot blood in your veins is good, but it is only the start of a man. You must feed that blood to the wolf within yourself. Beating that idea into the heads of boys is the hardest part. I think you understand this?"

Slaten nodded. It could only be a metaphor for sein, and though it was a crude image, he hoped that it might be an accurate one to understand Bloodskin techniques.

"The wasting occurs when a man feeds the wolf too much. His blood burns hot indeed for a time, but then his veins are empty. In boys, the only answer is to grow stronger. In men, it is a sign that they have strayed from the path. Some seek to feed many wolves, and though the pack grows, they are left with too little."

Wolves could only represent techniques, yet that raised more questions. Hogowo already appeared to be growing uncomfortable with the conversation, so Slaten sought another approach. "So a true man of the Bloodskin clan feeds only one wolf?"

"That's what we tell boys. It's mostly true." Hogowo slapped his chest. "Me, I have one Bloodskin wolf. One powerful wolf that you can see in my body. But that is not the only way. These errants from the north... they feed a wolf within themselves and a second wolf within their armor. It is the act of a coward, but they have the blood for it and they remain strong."

"And me?" Tani stepped closer, briefly baffling Hogowo. "What sort of wolf am I?"

"You are a bicorn that has sharpened its horns and believes it has teeth."

Though Hogowo looked to him to scorn her, and Tani hoped for defense, Slaten had nothing for either of them. Perhaps that spread was exactly the problem. "And when you look at me, do you see a man feeding too many wolves?"

"Aye." Hogowo struck him with violent encouragement. "Your blood burns hot, but you spread it too thin. It is not a wild pack, like foolish boys. But you try to feed a Bloodskin wolf, a lowlander wolf, and I know not what else. Any of them could be strong, but you must kill most of them first."

With that, Hogowo left them, shouting at another one of the training boys. The man immediately fell from Slaten's mind, which rapidly filled with the flow of his own sein. Perhaps this was the answer that he needed... yet Tani stabbed at the edges of his consciousness.

"Are you truly listening to his stories, Slaten? It may be admirable to open your mind to others, but even these barbarians?"

"They may be wrong about many things, but that does not mean they are wrong about violence." Slaten closed a fist, feeling his sein flex along with his muscles. "It's just as Olondris said: the Bloodskins have entirely subsumed their practice of sein into their bodies. The Bloodskin 'wolf' is meant to drink everything, yet I attempt to spread myself among several disciplines."

Though Tani shot the group another distasteful look, he could see his words trickling through her instinctive reaction. Eventually she nodded. "I suppose there may be some truth to that. My master always told me that it is wise to experience other arts, but not to practice all of them. Warriors cannot simply... gather up powers in both arms as if they were pretty baubles."

"The Oken restrict everyone to a single path. I had always thought it was too limited... but what if there was truly a reason for it? Each path contains only a reasonable number of draws on their sein, thus preventing the problem I've stumbled into."

"Your people may have been right about that, but that doesn't mean they were right about everything. Given how regularly you've been draining your sein, your reserves have increased. If you only had a deeper understanding of yourself, your sein could be greater than mine."

"Perhaps. If I could learn to perceive sein with my eyes or ears, I would no longer tire so quickly. But I think that this would only stave off the problem. Eventually I will have to choose."

"That is the way of life, is it not? It would be strange if sein was any different." Tani gently placed a hand on his shoulder in the same place where Hogowo had struck him. "Take anything you need from these raiders, Slaten, but do not dwell with them. You must divide your time as well as your sein."

He nodded, accepting the truth of her words on the surface of his thoughts as he plumbed deeper into himself. Despite Hogowo's derision, Slaten thought that Tani's sein was a sleek wolf. By contrast, he divided himself between Oken swordsmanship, Coran strength, Estronese arts, and the Bloodskin body. Yet he needed every single wolf in that pack if he was to survive against all the opponents to come.

With his thoughts consumed by his dilemma and fables of wolves for the entire day, Slaten expected to dream of a pack tearing him to pieces. Yet when he woke in his dreams, he was surrounded by the corpses of wolves.

Chapter 41

-

"The mansthein have no proper apprenticeship program, instead mixing soldiers and warriors in their lowest ranks. The majority of soldiers are untrained or Lesser Ironsquires, with Greater Ironsquires given no special treatment. Peak Ironsquires and beyond, however, are given a warrior's rank and treated better. Some work as officers while others are more independent akin to errants."

- Wahleenese treatise on mansthein ranks

-

Traveling across the nation of Wahleen had taken Celivia and her band only an instant. Traveling anywhere at all in the mountains seemed as though it would take a year.

This time, her band wasn't alone. The Fourth Northern Legion sprawled across several valleys, more than enough to fight the average raiding clan. That was before the Zeitai was even considered, though she heard contradictory rumors about whether or not Kreue would make a direct appearance. She wasn't sure if he feared to face the sage or simply had other priorities.

A tent was still prepared for Kreue, where his highest officers engaged in debauched revelry. Celivia sat rather far from that peak, among the raucous lesser bands. There, once the soldiers had finished their tasks, they began to bide time as soldiers did.

Celivia had traveled far from the usual camps for her training, climbing her way to a local peak. Now that she returned, she looked over the legion and saw the stirrings of something new. Mansthein constructed something near the center, but it didn't appear to be a war machine - not that she had any idea what machine might be useful in the mountains. Instead it looked to be some sort of shelter, which seemed a waste of time considering that they would leave within days.

As she descended, Celivia decided to simply ask her band about it. On her way, she saw soldiers engaging in eternally popular pursuits such as gambling over bones and testing arm strength. Several soldiers with Wahleenese mottling appeared to be playing a game that involved heavy circular tiles. Having never seen it before, Celivia wanted to draw closer, but she knew that it would attract the wrong kind of attention. Perhaps she could seek it out when she next visited Wahleen.

When she saw her band, she opened her mouth to speak, but Brifik's mouth was already open. "Kaen, look what Puga can do!"

Puga, the newest member of their band, started to raise something to his mouth. She had made an effort to get to know him, especially since her band had accepted him quickly. Instead of a traditional Feinan from Fein Karnak, Puga hailed from Sein Karnak, having been some sort of laborer before joining the army.

Otherwise, she didn't know him well. Which became a problem when he raised a curled reed to his mouth and aimed it at her.

Her hand went to her knife instantly and she only just prevented herself from striking first. She didn't see any anger on his face and the scenario seemed unlikely to be an attack. He might have been able to fit a small dart in the reed, but what flew through the air toward her appeared to be a seed. After checking to be sure it contained no trap, Celivia caught it on the flat of her knife as if that was what she had been intending to do all along.

"Isn't that amazing?" Brifik laughed and slapped Puga on the back, though Celivia noted that no one else seemed to find it nearly as amusing. "He says he could shoot one halfway across the camp!"

"I need a better reed." Puga crumpled his in one hand and dropped the pieces to the ground. "These let too much air out."

"But the important thing is, he can win us the seed trial for sure!"

"Seed trial?" Even as Celivia asked the question, she realized that it was a trap. The rest of her band looked far too eager to explain.

Big Ragh, Krafan, and Brifik all talked over one another, describing some sort of contest, until she raised a hand to shut them up. Ghalia sat back with a smug look on her face, but Celivia thought it best not to ask her instead of her own band. Once they went quiet, she glanced at Ghasfik instead.

"What are these trials?"

"Friendly competitions between bands." Ghasfik shrugged, but he had a slight smile on his face. "Just a bit of fun to keep up morale while we wait."

"And... one of these competitions involves spitting seeds?"

"Yes!" Brifik pumped a fist into the air and then brought it down on Puga's shoulder. "Puga will win us that one, make no mistake!"

The competitions appeared to be completely harmless, so Celivia nodded for them to continue. Instead she gestured for Ghasfik to follow her a short distance away and spoke softly. "I trust none of these competitions are actively dangerous?"

"No, Kaen. There may be a few informal trials, but the rest were approved by the captains."

"Then let the band participate as they like. It wouldn't hurt to earn us some respect." She paused, watching Puga spit another seed. "Is there something I don't understand about this? Brifik seems very excited."

"No one knows why, Kaen." There was a slight smile on Ghasfik's face, but not directed toward her.

"Where the fuck is Huthur?" Splinters asked the others. "I thought he was building with the others."

Big Ragh shook his head. "No, he left. About the same time as Reina... wait... you don't think? Maybe Huthur isn't as bent as we thought!"

Ghalia's laughter exploded so forcefully it nearly put out the fire. "That's not likely, boys! Now, you're lucky you have me to help, but if you want to prove you're the toughest band in the company, I need all of you to pull your weight too. Let's practice more than spitting!"

She rose and the others joined her without needing to be ordered. Celivia watched briefly as Ghalia began testing their strength, as even several of them combined couldn't budge the tree trunks she had for arms. It all came so easily to her... Celivia turned away to find Reina. The other woman usually kept her distance among soldiers, but it had been an unusually long time.

"Celivia?" Krafan appeared behind her with a broad smile. "We were hoping that you'd represent the band in something too. The other bands in our company are mostly from Wahleen, and they've been eyeing us from the beginning. We need to prove ourselves."

"I don't have any special talents like Puga and Ghalia can win contests of strength. What would I enter?"

"If there was a beauty contest, you'd surely win."

Celivia regarded him with a flat gaze and did her best to cut him off before it could go any further. "Nin, is there, in fact, any beauty contest?"

"No, Kaen." Krafan wilted back, sulking when he started to make eye contact. She sighed and gave him a polite smile to soften the blow.

"I'll ask about the available competitions, Krafan. If there are any tests of skill, I'll do the best I can for our band."

He nodded silently and Celivia wondered if she should say more, but at that moment a roar erupted from the others. When Celivia turned to look, she discovered that the band had cleared a space to wrestle one another. Several had been struggling, but all their attention fell on a surprise:

Fijn crouched atop Ghalia with one arm around her neck. He had his arms tightly locked in position around her neck so that even Ghalia struggled to pull apart his arms. When she reached back to grab his head, he dipped aside and kept applying pressure to her throat.

It was a good strategy, but not against a Catai. Everyone else realized that as Ghalia stopped struggling and began to chuckle.

"That's a good hold."

"No matter how thick your neck is..." Fijn grunted as he tried to squeeze even tighter. "It should cut off the blood to your head..."

"A Catai's blood doesn't lie so close to the surface." As she spoke, Ghalia rose to her feet, lifting Fijn like he was no more than a backpack. He tried to grapple her legs with his own, but the height difference made it impossible. "And even if you could, you don't have the strength to apply enough pressure."

"Says... you..." Fijn appeared to be struggling to maintain his grip as Ghalia flexed her neck.

"Oh, but I can tell that you see the truth now. Are you carrying a knife, or does that idea excite you?"

"It's a knife." Fijn let go with one hand and drew it from his belt.

Celivia immediately moved to defend Ghalia, though she hesitated, wondering if Fijn would actually attack her. It never mattered, because Ghalia threw herself backward, slamming him between her body and the ground. Had she propelled herself with her sein, she could have crushed him, but even without it Fijn groaned as the weight of four men struck his chest.

"Hah!" Ghalia leapt back to her feet, leaving Fijn and his knife crumpled on the ground. "That's a good knife you have, but it's not enough for me. Who's next?"

No one else rushed to test her, as she'd planned. Celivia didn't understand how pitting soldiers against a Catai proved anything, but Ghalia seemed to enjoy it. Since the band was only in awe of her, nothing more venomous except for Splinters, she set the matter aside and turned her attention to the upcoming trials.

The friendly competition between factions was actually unfamiliar to her, since her life had largely been filled by close allies and true enemies. But it wasn't difficult to understand: each group maintained a rivalry with everyone outside their circle. Soldiers in a band might compete, but the band united against another band, the company cheered other bands within their company, on to cohorts. She'd even heard there was some manner of longstanding rivalry between the Third and Fifth Northern Legions.

None of the rivalries held any real meaning for her, so as she watched the growing competitions over the next day, Celivia just wondered how the humans would fit. The legion had a few human allies serving as scouts and support, though none were present at the camp. Had there been humans capable of competing, she suspected the competition would turn brutal.

As it was, they were clearly just the games of soldiers. Celivia saw Big Ragh enter a contest that appeared to be eating boval pies with hands tied behind the back. His participation seemed pointless, since the only real competition was between the Catai involved. In the end he lay back with his face covered in pie, smiling as if he'd never intended to win.

That, she could understand. The more trivial of contests, such as Puga and Brifik's seed spitting, left her baffled. Celivia ignored them and searched through the camp for Reina, hoping to find someone to enjoy the day with. Failing to find her, she advanced to her own trial, a test of skill she'd learned of the night before.

In the center of a ring, someone had placed several pine cones inside a wooden board with multiple pegs sticking up from it. Soldiers stood outside the ring, given three chances to throw a weapon and dislodge a pine cone while avoiding the pegs. She had never heard of any game like it, but the Wahleenese mansthein seemed interested.

After the current competitor failed to knock down even a single pine cone, Celivia walked up to the man running the trial and uncoiled her whip. "Is this weapon allowed?"

"I suppose, Naena." He looked over the bladed whip and frowned. "But if you intend to just cut through all the wood, that will disqualify you."

"I won't touch them." Celivia smiled as she realized that the trial would be easy.

Once the targets had been set up again, Celivia paced outside the circle, chose her angle, and struck. Her whip lashed out in a nearly straight line, impacting the bottom of one of the pine cones and knocking it into the air. Before her whip retracted, she let her sein pulse down her arm and through the whip, sending it curling around one of the pegs to strike a second target before she pulled it back.

Several soldiers watched, shouted, and clapped. Celivia looked for Krafan, since he would have appreciated the show, but didn't see him. Instead she lashed out a second and third time, in total removing six of the ten pine cones on the board. It was a better score than anyone else had received and the soldier running the trial gave her a ribbon of silk to indicate her victory.

As Celivia turned away, fixing the ribbon around her arm, she saw a lean man sitting on the side of a barrel. He held what appeared to be an over-sized caltrop in his hand, and as she watched, he made the weapon spin back and forth between his fingers.

"Six out of ten. Not bad." He leaned forward with a smile. "Would you care to make a wager?"

"No." Celivia met his gaze and smiled back. "Unless the wager is that you have some sein art that will allow you to knock all ten off the board."

That got a short laugh and the man stopped toying with his caltrop. "I've done you wrong, Naena. But are you sure you won't compete in the same trial between cohorts? Competition will be fiercer, but I think you could manage three in one strike."

"No, thank you. I know better than to compete on the cohort level."

"If you insist." The man's eyes slid down, but it settled on her whip instead of her hips. "Why do you use a technique like that? I'll admit, you might be able to deal a mortal wound in the instant your opponent is surprised. But to redirect the entire whip in midair must consume your sein at a terrible rate."

"I'll admit it's inefficient, but it's how I've trained." Celivia paused, curious if he would push further, but the man only shrugged and went back to making his caltrop dance over his hands. Though she was mildly curious what he would do, she decided not to indulge the trial any longer. The ribbon around her arm would be enough to prove herself to her band.

Instead she roamed the valley to see what other trials occurred, again finding no sign of Reina. She found Big Ragh lying on his back, queasy and bloated after having apparently entered two more eating contests. He required Ghasfik and Celivia's help to return to their camp, and the entire trip she worried that he would vomit on her.

The most interesting competition she found was one between builders who constructed elaborate shields of wood and metal. Two Catai then took up a pair of shields and smashed them together until one of the constructs broke apart. Celivia wouldn't have believed that ordinary soldiers would ever have run a contest of ingenuity.

Huthur competed with a shield covered with cleverly-constructed wooden pyramids. Though they broke quickly, they often damaged the other shield first. His shield did not win the competition, but it endured longer than any shield not constructed by Wahleenese soldiers. Before leaving, Celivia made sure to clap him on the shoulder in congratulations.

"Having fun, Celi?" A shadow fell over her face and Celivia turned to see Ghalia behind her, grinning and bearing three ribbons. They wouldn't fit around her enormous bicep, so she let them dangle from her bracer. "We should try something, just like old times."

"If it's a contest of strength, we both know you'd win," Celivia said. But Ghalia shook her head, put an arm around her shoulders, and guided her across the grounds.

"No, I've found something better. This is about sein arts, not strength."

Soon they arrived at a rough combat circle, but this one had a twist: two wooden half-spheres rocking with the flat sides up. Soldiers balanced atop them and tried to strike at one another. Some failed to keep their balance even simply standing, falling and laughing with one another. She noticed Splinters test himself against a soldier in another band; when his opponent jostled his platform and knocked him down, he tore away cursing too quickly for Celivia to say anything.

Several others from her band were present as well, but Celivia had no time to greet them. Ghalia pulled her further in, shoving aside several soldiers who had intended to use the pair next.

"Come on, Celi. I don't know if this will hold me, but I'll try." Ghalia leapt up and landed with her feet centered, making the wooden platform creak.

Instead of moving up so quickly, Celivia put her foot on one side, testing the balance of the platform. It wasn't a perfect half-sphere, with bumps that made it roll unevenly. But since Ghalia was waiting, Celivia pinned one end down, set her other foot on the opposite side, and let herself rock up to a balanced position.

"Everything is fair but weapons!" Ghalia promptly thrust one hand forward, intending to simply push Celivia off.

She ducked underneath the other woman's outstretched hand and reached out, trying to push Ghalia's leg. As expected, Ghalia immediately kicked, the movement sending Celivia rocking back. But she had anticipated that and, crouching low to the platform, turned the momentum into a rolling movement. In a flash she had rolled fully around, this time lashing out with a sweeping kick.

Attempting to harm Ghalia's leg would have been foolish, so instead Celivia merely used her momentum to shove her. It nearly worked, Ghalia stumbling a half-step and then wobbling violently as she struggled to maintain her balance. Celivia would have attempted again, but after her rolling gambit, she was having trouble with balance herself.

As she rose, she saw a real glare on Ghalia's face. The other woman had always been competitive, but was there something more there? Ghalia clenched a fist over her heart and Celivia heard her sein like a whirlwind. She realized that Ghalia was using a real technique on her just as the other woman moved.

Instead of any attempt to redirect the force, Celivia reacted with combat instincts, bracing her arms in front of her face. Ghalia's fist hit violently, followed by a cascade of sein that overwhelmed her defenses.

Celivia slammed onto her back and let out a groan. She sat up, rubbing her bruised forearms, and saw Ghalia roaring in triumph with her fists over her head. The force from her punch had sent her backward off her platform as well, but with her opponent sent flying, there was no question who had been the victor.

"Are you well, Celi?"

The voice surprised Celivia almost more than the punch. She leapt to her feet to find Jeraeli behind her, dressed in an elaborate robe that draped artfully around her chest and hips. Again she wore her impractical sharp heels... though she also wore a ribbon around her arm.

"Only surprised." Celivia brushed off her arms, ignoring the pain stabbing through them. "That wasn't the full version of the technique, Ghalia just likes to go overboard."

"I'm not so sure it's only that." Jeraeli pursed her lips and stared toward the combat circle. "You do see what she's doing, don't you? Your men are more loyal to her now than they are to you."

"What? Ghali? That's absurd."

"Look at what she's done, Celi. Really look."

Though Celivia watched, noting the members of her band who celebrated Ghalia's victory, in the end she shook her head. "Ghalia is a respected Catai in Xetsu's legions. The only reason she even submitted to coming to Breilin was to help me."

"You may be right." Jeraeli smiled in apology, but her eyes suggested that her opinion remained unchanged.

Once more Celivia looked at Ghalia, briefly meeting the gaze of her old friend. Ghali grinned in triumph, but it was the same grin as always. She had always been more competitive than any of them, so this was nothing new. Though it had been years since they had truly spent time together, they hadn't fundamentally changed.

"I've had enough of competitions." Jeraeli tossed her hair over her shoulder with an exaggerated sigh. "Would you like a good drink and something to eat that hasn't been drowned in fat?"

Celivia followed her without hesitation. This might be their last chance before the violence started.

Chapter 42

-

"When first they fought, the battle tore them apart. Yet in those days, the tides of battle brought them together again. When next they fought, Emdore was victorious, yet he stayed his hand, admiring the skill of his opponent and the joy of their battle. When they fought for a third time, Emlioon was victorious, but instead of striking a final blow, she removed her helm and declared that she wanted nothing more than to go on fighting him, not as enemies but as fellow errants."

- excerpt from The Tale of Emdore and Emlioon

-

"Piss-fucking shit," Veron muttered to herself. It wasn't so much cursing as hoping by this point.

Her task was supposed to have been so easy. Just wait until all the armies had marched off, then slip into the mine. The guards were fucking idiots, so that part had been no problem. And then that statue had shown up. That damn statue.

Another group of soldiers marched around the side of the mine and Veron had to break from her hiding position. Though she'd stolen a ragged cloak like the mine workers' and tied up her hair, no one would think she was a Deathspawn for a hot second if they actually looked at her.

Yet as she ducked behind an unused wheelbarrow, Veron spotted yet more Deathspawn shuffling toward her. She acted on pure instinct, dropping into a partially dug hole. Once she was inside, she actually found herself wondering what possible purpose it served. Whatever it was, she just thanked fuck that it wasn't a latrine.

Since a large ridge blocked her position from guards on half the upper reaches of the mine, Veron dared to peer out once the footsteps had died down. The soldiers had gone, but the second group still shuffled on. They weren't like the soldiers, just a bunch of shabby, lifeless fuckers. Though Veron had no idea what they actually were, she'd seen those hollow expressions many times before in the gutters.

She dropped back down with her back against the rock. It should have been easy. Melal had ordered her to grab the seal thing and get it to him before he returned to the Sage. Making up for his failings, basically. But if he was a big damn Hero, shouldn't the sacred mission he'd given her have gone easier?

Instead, she was scrabbling between rocks, desperate for her life. Part of her wondered if this was her fault. The truth was that she had been hoping to take the seal for herself. If it was really part of the Legend, maybe if she had it when Melal got himself killed, the power would pass to her. Could the Legend see her insincerity somehow? The doubting part of herself actually felt a bit guilty, as if she'd betrayed something that she cared about.

Veron punched that part of herself in the face and got moving again.

Nobody was lurking around the base of the mine now, so the real problem was all the guards on the upper tiers. Not so many of them, but only one had to look over at the wrong time and see her. Veron kept to cover as much as she could, thankful that the miners had left increasingly random piles of rock lying around. All the workers seemed to be focused on digging deeper, not on carting away the rocks, like they were rushing for something.

She nearly ran into the back of one of the emaciated workers and leapt back into hiding. Almost stabbed the bastard for frightening her like that. None of the workers had any strength to speak of, so it was too easy to just run into them.

Once the idiot moved on, Veron crept past him and up the most secluded of the ramps. From there, she could look around the corner and check the other guards. When all were marching away from her, she leapt up to the next ridges. The mine had too many of them, but now she thought she could make her way out.

As she landed, she saw that damn statue walk out of the tunnel just beneath her.

Cursing under her breath, Veron hit the ground and quenched all the strength in her body. She knew that she should back up, but her body felt too heavy. Now she could see the back of the statue and the other Deathspawn, which meant that they would only need to turn around to see her. All she could do was hold her breath.

"The tunnel is growing unstable, Zeitai." One of the Deathspawn fawned over the statue. They were jabbering away in the Deathspawn language, as if that could stop her, but Veron had picked up more of it than she let on. "We need to slow down or we risk losing more workers."

Veron had suspected the statue was a Zeitai from the moment she saw him. He looked like somebody had carved him out of solid rock, which reminded her of that monster in Bundlin. That Zeitai had looked more like a suit of armor and he'd had the nerve to spare her. This one... she wouldn't take the bet.

"What we seek could be more valuable than the lives of everyone here." The Zeitai Statue turned to glower at the underling. At least Veron assumed he glowered, the way the other Deathspawn cringed. "I want it found before I depart."

"Zeitainan, it's more difficult than that." Another Deathspawn had the balls to speak up, despite Statue's glare. "If this tunnel does collapse, it would cost us days of work."

"Assuming that bitch was right about the location. I wish..." Statue turned to the side and Veron's breath caught as he nearly faced her, but he only rubbed the inner corners of his eyes. "Maybe she was wrong."

"Would you like us to send Laeluon for her? She's participating in the campaign in the Sotunn Mountains."

After a long pause, Statue shook his head. "No. No, she might have been wrong. I'll send more workers when I can. Put tools in the hands of the females and start mining in all directions again. Do it slowly if you must. But keep looking until you find whatever the humans hid here."

"Of course, Zeitainan."

Statue and his cohort finally moved away. Their words grew softer until Veron couldn't hear them anymore, but they didn't talk about anything that mattered to her. She just lay in the dirt and tried not to breathe.

The Zeitai scared the shit out of her. He didn't just look like a statue, she was willing to bet his body was as hard as rock too. She couldn't win even if she managed a perfect ambush. Not that an ambush would work. Something about the way he moved told her that he had a brute combination of strength and speed that simply couldn't be overcome, kick to the crotch or no.

Yet that was nothing compared to the statue in Bundlin. Xetsu hadn't scared the shit out of her, he'd terrified her to the point where profanity felt tawdry and pathetic. His power had been a storm encompassing the sky, curling on itself as it swept over her, uncaring that she even existed. She'd been nothing but a child scared of the thunder.

As soon as Statue was out of sight, Veron slapped herself across the face to clear her head. No, she needed to focus. Xetsu hadn't been a damn storm, he'd simply been overwhelmingly strong. The Zeitai in the Maenfu or whatever it was called might be a lot stronger than her too, but it wasn't the same. Most importantly, this was the second time she'd nearly encountered him, and she'd stayed hidden both times.

Xetsu would have known.

Veron gathered herself and crept the rest of the way up the side of the mine. Her job was a hell of a lot easier because all the guards were still watching where Statue had gone. Seeing a Zeitai was a big deal for them too, and she'd noticed one or two faint. She'd have mocked them as being foolish girls if she hadn't felt that crushing presence herself.

Damn, she needed a drink. Veron could almost taste the whiskey in her mouth... and then realized that she really did.

She pulled her strength inward and dove into hiding just before a pair of Deathspawn walked toward the entrance ramp. One heartbeat later and they'd have seen her. Hell, they'd have found her if they had been paying any attention instead of talking to each other about some Deathspawn shit.

Even the familiar taste in her mouth turned bad. Both of them were strong, stronger than her. Maybe not like Statue, but enough to kill her. Just like some of the errants she'd seen and that damn woman back in Torgaadi.

As soon as the horizon was clear, Veron fled the mine. Soon she was out into the hills, far from any roads. She should have been able to relax, yet her mind was still trapped behind her. So many powerful bastards coming out of the woodwork. It wasn't fair.

Yet she had always known this, in some quiet part of herself. Veron knew that she was stronger than most people she met, and as a bandit in the Chorhan Expanse, that was enough. But what worked against untrained merchants didn't cut it in places where everyone was fully trained. If she kept following the Hero, she knew that she wouldn't be able to do the smart thing and hide, she'd just keep facing more warriors like that.

"Shit-fucking piss," Veron muttered to herself. She hated the idea, but she realized that she didn't have a choice. She wasn't going to abandon the kids and she couldn't quit the Hero. Yet again, there wasn't really any choice.

It was time to go back and swallow her pride. It tasted as awful as a lot of things she could name.

Chapter 43

-

"It may shock the gentle reader to learn of the strange customs in Espal and Wahleen. Despite its excesses, Espal is far too restrictive with women's hair, requiring them to wrap it entirely in tedious cloths. By contrast, Wahleenese ladies wear only a hood, leaving their hair visible to entice men. Certain ladies, not even those of ill repute, may wear nothing but veils. A proper Portantese lady might deign to wear wraps or hoods, provided their hair is properly braided underneath."

- Portantese Young Lady's Handbook

-

For years, Estronn had been at peace within its own borders. All disputes between sects or landowners were settled by controlled contests, test of skill if the disagreement was amicable or duels between mage warriors if it was not. Violent conflicts with the Corans and later the Deathspawn had been contained before they could spiral out of control.

But oh, they remembered war.

Laeri had always found her history classes dull, no matter how her instructors attempted to awe her with the stories of great healers and other sein users of the past. Those accomplishments stood like flimsy shadows compared to the glory of the Legend. When they spoke of war and its many casualties, she had dreamed of the final war that would end all others.

Now, as she stared out over the village of injured warriors, Laeri desperately wished that she had listened more carefully. This was only the beginning, the attrition from initial conflicts against the Deathspawn or other clans. How much worse would true war be? When the time came, how could she choose who she saved?

"Are you alright, Laeri?"

The voice startled her and for a moment Laeri was convinced that the man she was healing had somehow changed from a gruff baritone to a woman's voice. She tumbled out of her own thoughts, mind askew, and realized the situation. The arm beneath her hands had been healed long ago, she was releasing sein to no effect, and the voice had been from Nolise standing behind her.

After reprimanding herself for careless work, since mindless healing arts led to flesh knots, Laeri stood up to face the errant. Nolise looked much like all the others, her armor only slightly thinner than average. It had taken some time for Laeri to truly accept that the other woman was actually a healer despite her armor. Instead of a grim helmet, her helm lined her face and curved into wings that signified a healing errant.

"I am fine, Nolise. It just took me some time to finish." Laeri smiled down at the injured errant. "You are free to go, warrior. Your arm will hurt, but you can fight immediately if necessary."

"Thank you." The man rose to his feet, rubbing his arm. "Your arts were swift and warm. You may be from a foreign land, but you have an errant's soul."

Laeri blushed and bobbed her head to try not to be overwhelmed by the praise. The errants were always so kind, unlike her exacting instructors or the unthankful Corans. Even Melal thanked her less, ever since he'd spent so much time with the Bloodskins. Why oh why couldn't he have joined the errants instead? They told such romantic stories of errants and their loves...

"We need to go." Nolise gently took her arm and guided Laeri away, used to her distractions by now. "It's one of those raiders and he won't let me touch him."

"Won't the other errants hold him down for you? We need to heal everyone we can."

"They might, but his leg is severely broken. Given the way he's acting, I thought it best if you made the attempt..."

The Bloodskin man sat against a house wall, struggling to turn his grimaces of pain into more masculine expressions. His emotional alchemy was only partially successful, which Laeri understood as soon as she saw his leg. Two large spikes of bone emerged from his flesh, and what could have caused such tearing? She realized that his leg must have been twisted in one direction, then he'd jerked it back into place.

As most of the raiders did, the man regarded them suspiciously. "Just leave well enough alone! The leg will heal if you give it time. I don't need any cold blood, at least not like that."

How to get through to him? Laeri adopted a kind smile as she knelt down beside his leg. "You may heal, but by then, the battle will be over. If you let me help, you can fight alongside the Hero and Chief Bufogu. Wouldn't that be better?"

"I suppose." The man's lips twisted and his displeasure shifted to Nolise standing behind. "Just don't let that damn northerner touch me. You came with the Hero, but her..."

"Never fear." Nolise's voice might have held a touch of scorn, but her face was shadowed by her helmet. "Laeri is better suited to healing this injury, so I have no intention of helping."

"Eh? If you're both healers with cold blood, what's the difference?"

"Healers aren't all the same, you know." Laeri set her hands on either side of the broken bones and began with simple sein. It would do little for his injury, but she found the Bloodskins usually reacted better to healing that felt good. "It's no different from warriors knowing some weapons better than others. I know bones quite well, so I can help heal your leg. But Nolise is much better with bruises and injuries to the head."

"Hnh." The Bloodskin man regarded them skeptically, but sat back to let her work.

Nolise knelt down beside her and asked a few questions regarding the process as Laeri began with the exposed ends of the bone. First came removing the shards of bone in the flesh, a process made much easier with sky sein. Though errants didn't view sein in the same way, Laeri had found they could understand the same arts, and in turn, she hoped to understand some of Nolise's techniques.

Eventually the early work was done and Nolise needed to assist someone else. That reminded Laeri of another patient, so she caught the other woman's arm before she rose. "Nolise, can you check on Cantyan? He's in the third hut on the left. Something struck him on the chest, and I tried to stop the internal bleeding, but he's so much older than most..."

"I understand. I'll look at him right away." Nolise was so close that Laeri could see her hazel eyes watching her with concern. "You need to take care of yourself too, Laeri. Once you're finished with the leg, please let yourself rest."

"I will." Laeri nodded to her and then returned to the leg. It would be a difficult process, but she needed the practice. If Melal or Tani ever had their bones broken so terribly, she needed to be able to help. She regarded the wound, then smiled up at the Bloodskin man. "This next part may hurt. It's okay if you scream."

"Pain is nothing to the Bloodskins!" He glowered at her so fiercely that she flinched, but her purpose was accomplished: he wouldn't complain and interrupt her work. That had been a trick Auntie Elima taught her for healing Corans, and it seemed to work just as well on Bloodskins.

The memory of Elima's face as she died rippled through Laeri's sein and for several heartbeats she could heal nothing. Then she took a deep breath, focusing on the old woman's lessons, and began.

Novices were never allowed to work with bones, because careless application of sein could easily make them heal incorrectly. As Laeri shifted the fragments of bone back into place, she was guided partially by her anatomy instructors and partially by the feel of the man's sein. The Bloodskins were mudmen of the first order, but their bodies knew how they should reform, which made her task easier.

Next came the task of fusing the bone properly. With Slaten she could have used less sein and trusted his body to finish the healing, but she had learned through painful relapses that the Bloodskins were not so easy on their bodies while recovering. One more lesson to learn.

Such mundane lessons always disappointed her, even if she knew they were an important part of being a healer. What she needed was strength and sein arts. She might be able to fight only poorly, but all the others were relying on her skills. If she didn't work as hard as she could, would they leave her behind?

There was just too much for her to learn! Even in her specialty, repairing flesh, she saw so many flaws in her own technique. She was competent with broken bones, but Nolise made her feel completely inadequate with so many other injuries. Neither of them was skilled with healing injuries to the internal organs, which could often be the most serious. Laeri might be able to return a warrior to their feet, but she worried that their health would suffer greatly.

As she began weaving the flesh over the bone, Laeri thought back to her decisions in Estronn. There was one ignorance she had chosen: she knew little of healing illnesses because she had always wanted to be a combat healer. Her instructors told her that she could easily become rich by focusing on disease, but their stories of curing kings and nobles could not erase her visions of healing sniffles and coughs.

That ignorance might cost her now, however, because the errants were actually more prone to illness than other warriors. It had baffled her until Olondris had explained the differences, and all at once everything had fallen neatly into place. The errants didn't focus on their bodies until they became Steeljudges, so they suffered from illnesses that warriors on the Chorhan Expanse would ignore.

Could the Deathspawn cripple their forces just by sowing disease in their ranks? Laeri decided to tuck that thought away deep inside herself where she couldn't see it.

When at last Laeri completed her work, she sat back with a satisfied smile. Her thoughts had wandered, but she concluded that the leg was sound. After telling the Bloodskin man to be careful, however futile it might be, Laeri left him to find Nolise.

Instead, she found herself facing Natala. The Bloodskin woman had been waiting quietly, but as soon as Laeri faced her, she burst out with a broad smile that Natala couldn't help but return.

"You look tired, Laeri. Are you doing well?"

"I am well," Laeri said, "I merely want to work as hard as I can before the battle truly begins."

"I had wanted to ask you... but no, you seem so tired..."

"Oh, what is it? You can tell me, you know."

"If you insist." Natala took her arm and guided her back into the village, rubbing her arm in an encouraging way. "The trouble is the Whitebones that were captured on our way. They may be prisoners now, but you'd help them, wouldn't you?"

"Of course! My duty is to heal anyone I can."

"Don't press yourself now, but once you've rested, please speak to me. I hope that we can make an arrangement with them in return for your help."

"I'd be happy to help if I can." Laeri frowned as she realized something odd that had been tickling at the back of her mind. "You know, it seems to me that you spend all your time with the Whitebones and the other clans they've captured. Why not spend more time with the Bloodskin women?"

"I fear they've long disapproved of me." Natala's face fell, but then she patted Laeri's arm and brightened again. "But I wanted to ask you something about that as well. Several of the women are pregnant, and they worry about giving birth during a time of war. Could you...?"

"Oh... that might be difficult if they give birth while I need to heal warriors, you know?"

"Ah, but I didn't mean for you to assist them then. They already know some healing arts, but you've seen their limitations. Would you be able to teach them some of what you know so that later they will be able to assist with the childbirths themselves?"

Laeri beamed at the idea. "That's wonderful, Natala! Of course I'll help!"

"You aren't worried about giving up your secrets?"

"Oh, mage warriors may speak of such things, but not healers. Our only secrets are the deepest workings of sein that could never be taught so easily. One of my duties is to share whatever knowledge I can with others who battle injury and disease, wherever I find them."

"You're an admirable woman, Laeri." Natala patted her arm one more time, always so affectionate, then pulled away. "Only speak to me before you help them, please. They are rather uncomfortable given all these changes, so it might be better to have someone to negotiate."

"Of course. You can count on me, Natala."

Leaving Natala left Laeri with a smile on her face, though it faded as she looked over the remaining bodies. The crises had passed, but her sein still flowed well enough. It would be better to heal some of the open wounds before she rested. That would reduce infections and set the warriors on the path to the full recovery that only time could provide.

As she walked toward them, Laeri stumbled. To her surprise, a hand caught her by the arm and held her up.

"Be careful, Laeri." Tani stood beside her with a concerned smile. "Don't push yourself too hard or we'll need someone to heal you."

"I will be fine..." Laeri had planned more arguments, but a delicious smell swept through her thoughts and led her eyes to Tani's other hand. "What... what is that you're holding?"

"Some of the errants set up a rough oven in the other camp. Did you know that they bake bread in the northern nations?"

"Truly?" Laeri clasped Tani's hand in both of her own and squeezed it as she stared at the box. "You've brought it to me, yes? To share?"

Tani chuckled and led her to a space between houses where Nolise sat and rested. Laeri had not known that the two of them were familiar with each other, but Nolise nodded politely to Tani. When Tani set down her box and began to reveal the loaves of bread within, the errant removed her winged helm. Though her face was a bit too lean and she kept her dark hair too short, Laeri thought she had lovely, kind eyes.

"They can't have baked very much," Nolise said. "How did you convince them to give you any?"

"I went to scout with a group of errants in exchange for their food." Tani smiled and handed a loaf to Nolise. "You're welcome to join us."

When Laeri accepted the large dark loaf, she gasped and passed it between her hands rapidly, letting it cool a bit more. The smell was certainly heavenly and she longed to bite it so quickly that she would burn her mouth. Once she couldn't wait any longer, she grasped it in both hands and bit down.

Her teeth practically chipped against the outer layer. Laeri pulled back and stared at it mournfully. "This... did they burn it?"

"The outside is hard, but the inside is good," Tani said. But Laeri was encouraged not at all, because the warrior was biting straight through it, her jaw like another knife. Just when Laeri was about to surrender the loaf, Nolise shifted closer and took it from her.

"It isn't burned, the crust is meant to be that hard." Nolise drew a knife and sawed the loaf in half before handing it back to Laeri.

She carefully poked at the inside, hesitant this time, but found it soft. When she reached within, she discovered that it was shockingly light and fluffy. A piece of it easily pinched off between her fingers, and when she put it in her mouth, it practically melted.

Laeri sighed happily and began digging out every last crumb. All at once the loaf transformed in her mind from an inedible stone to a delightful shell that shielded delicious bread within. Tani watched her with a fond smile, still biting through the entire bread, while Nolise used her knife to cut the crust into smaller pieces.

"Has anyone heard if they've encountered the main body of the Deathspawn yet?" Tani asked. Nolise shook her head.

"Still only skirmishes, and more of them as clans are pushed toward us by their movements."

"Would it be possible to pinpoint their location by which clans they're displacing?"

"Unfortunately, there are enough clans that there's no way to know. Some of the Deathspawn must be close, but their main army is said to be on the other side of Mount Tmil."

As the two of them spoke, Laeri listened with mild disapproval that was overwhelmed by the deliciousness of the bread. Though she would have preferred to enjoy the food, she admitted that the war was more important. If the Deathspawn truly threatened the Sage, then it was the most important thing in the entire world, and her healing was helping to build the Legend.

Shouldn't that have made her happy? She could hardly have taken a greater role without being the Hero herself, or some legendary master, so why did it leave an empty space where her heart should be?

Just as Laeri was about to join the conversation, she felt something change. It started with Tani pausing, putting down her bread and reaching for her sickle knife. Next Nolise noticed and began to stand to her feet. After that came the scream.

All three of them rushed from their place and into the spreading chaos. For a moment Laeri could not understand what was going on and feared that the errants and Bloodskins had begun fighting one another.

Then she saw the Deathspawn and she understood: they were under attack.

Since she was safest with warriors, Laeri hurried after them as they approached the entrance to the village. It seemed as though a small group of Deathspawn had attacked, met by the village's guards and the injured who were well enough to fight. They had no intention of winning, however, it was a targeted attack to try to kill the wounded.

Several spilled past the main battle and onto the village's dusty road. Tani killed the first two with her knives, slicing out and spinning back in a way that proved her much more than a mudman. Nolise joined her, drawing a short sword and fighting cautiously. She was no brilliant fighter, but she could repurpose her earth and water sein to strengthen her body instead of healing.

Why couldn't Laeri do the same? She understood the techniques, and for one glorious moment years ago she had somehow defended Melal in his battle. But she was a healer, not a warrior...

A cry of fear made Laeri look to the side and she saw several Deathspawn advancing on the fallen warriors. Laeri gasped as she saw more come over the side of the wall. Worse, there were humans with them - how could humans fight alongside Deathspawn? She realized that she had immediately understood that they weren't Bloodskins - something about their layers of cloth had struck her as different.

Whoever the traitorous tribe was, they had led the Deathspawn to the village and they intended to strike down the injured. Laeri wanted to call for help, but she saw that Nolise was pinned down and Tani was struggling to help her. It looked as though they would win the battle, but by the time they did, it would be too late.

Laeri gripped her staff tighter and decided on a new truth: she was a healer, and her patients were being threatened.

She advanced toward the first of the Deathspawn, gathering her sein in her arms. Even if she had no great skill, she could still wallop him over the head until he stopped moving. Laeri swung out wildly, determined to overwhelm him with her passion alone.

The Deathspawn's blade struck aside her staff and he grabbed her throat. Though Laeri struggled, her staff thumped uselessly against his shoulder armor and she was slammed against the side of one of the huts. All at once her fight left her. It was hopeless unless someone...

A knife embedded itself in the Deathspawn's throat and his hand loosened. By the time Laeri straightened, coughing and easing sein into her throat, he had already slumped to the ground, clawing at the blood pouring from him.

"Thank you, Ta-" Laeri cut off as she realized that it was not Tani who had saved her, but the Bloodskin man whose leg she'd healed. He grunted and readied a spear in one hand, a knife in the other.

"Step away from her and you don't have to die."

The speaker was another raider, not from the Bloodskin clan. He was a surprisingly handsome man who smiled as if he wasn't standing in a battlefield. When the Bloodskin man grunted and attacked him, the raider easily knocked aside the thrusts of his spear.

Even in the first exchange, Laeri realized that her protector couldn't win. The handsome raider scared her in the way Chief Bufogu scared her: a mudman with no art, but terrifying quantities of sein that could be used to bludgeon through his opponents.

Old Cantyan joined the fight, briefly pushing the raider back. Yet when she saw that he couldn't win either, even working together, she feared for him. He was such a kind old grandfather, she didn't want him to die, yet...

For a brief moment Laeri had a vision of herself striking from behind, knocking down the handsome raider and saving the men who protected her. It dissolved as she felt the pain throbbing in her throat.

Then several knives flashed through the air, nearly striking the handsome raider and forcing him to retreat. He looked worried for a heartbeat, but his eyes followed the knives as they pulled back through the air, just as Laeri's did. Both of them saw Tani at the same moment, but when Laeri looked back at the raider, strangely, he had broken into a grin.

"Well, that's a nice trick."

"What are you doing here, Mohuno?" Tani advanced on him with her sickle knife drawn, repositioning three knives in her other hand. Mohuno, if that was his name, simply shook his head.

"We were working with the mansthein, though I had no idea it would lead me to fight you. I'll call off the attack right away."

"How many others are there?" Though Tani spoke as if she knew him, her muscles remained entirely tense, ready to snap into violence at a moment's notice.

"Not enough to overcome your forces, and the mansthein have mostly died anyway." Mohuno turned away, giving a call to the other raiders, leading those who remained to flee. With one more grin over his shoulder, Mohuno leapt over the village wall and vanished into the mountains.

Tani growled and rushed after him, leaving Laeri standing among the injured.

~ ~ ~

Though Tani knew that it might be a trap, she pursued Mohuno as he and his raiders retreated. She realized that she was alone in her pursuit, the errants holding back to defend against other attacks. That was the more logical choice, especially with so many injured remaining there.

Just as logic was about to convince her to turn back, she saw Mohuno stop and wait for her.

When she reached the ridge where he stood, she kept her weapons aimed toward him. Mohuno simply smiled and sheathed his sword, even putting his hands on his hips as if not remotely concerned that she would attack him. He looked so honestly pleased to see her that it made it difficult for her to maintain her anger.

"If you're here," he began, "does that mean the Hero is as well? This sage is actually someone important?"

"What's important is why you're working with Deathspawn."

"They prefer to be called mansthein, you know." Mohuno shrugged as if it didn't matter to him. "But whatever they call themselves, they have the strength to annihilate all of the villages the Steelbone clan attempts to protect. Their presence here is unbalancing everything, but by cooperating with them, I can defend all my people."

Despite everything she remembered of him, Tani found herself bending to his rationale. "I understand why you would do that, but if you lead them to kill us, we'll fight back."

"Do you think I truly took their cause for my own? Now that I know you're here, I'll make certain that they do not threaten you."

"Is that your plan, then? Play both sides so that you can emerge from this war surrounded by treasures and women?"

To her surprise, Mohuno's endless confidence cracked. He stared at her with something between hatred and pain. "You were right, Tani. I hated you for it at first, but you were right."

"What do you mean?" She carefully straightened and returned her weapons to their places. Though she couldn't truly trust him, she thought she could trust him far enough not to attack her.

"You think I'm going to cry at your feet and beg forgiveness and tell you all the ways that I was wrong?"

"I expect you to give me more than false apologies!"

He took a deep breath and those eyes, which normally clung to her, looked away. "No more women who are scared of me have joined me on the furs."

Tani hesitated, not wanting to hope. Yet the pain she saw there... if she denied him now, it would mean that Veron and the other cynics were right. Though she remained cautious, Tani found herself smiling at him. "I never wanted you to beg forgiveness, Mohuno. I just wanted you to truly defend your people the way you claim you want to."

"And that's more difficult than I thought. I understand." Mohuno turned away from her, crossing his arms tightly and staring out over the mountains. "The Steelbones are the future of the clans, but we cannot become the future all at once. I could not change until my father died, and perhaps my sons will need to wait for my death."

"I don't believe that we need wait for generations to pass, but what matters is that you intend to do what's right." Tani's smile faded as their present reality reasserted itself. "So now we find ourselves on opposite sides."

"No. I do not fight for them, mansthein or Deathspawn. I fight for the Steelbones, all of them. But in this great war between the Hero, the clans, and the mansthein, I do not know how best to protect my people."

"I have some answers, because I've seen this before." Tani stepped up beside him, gazing out over the same stretch of mountains. "The Hero will be victorious in the end, but the battles along the way will be bloody. What we need to do is prevent them from slaughtering those who cannot defend themselves. If you are scouting for the mansthein, could you deceive them?"

"They don't trust me enough for that. But what if I led them to fight roaming bands of men instead of villages?"

"That would be an excellent start. I also thought that we could save lives if we allow the Hero and th-"

"I want something as well." Mohuno turned to her, gaze utterly serious. "I want to meet the Hero."

Tani flinched away from the thought and attempted to swallow her reaction. "Why?"

"Why? You ask me why I want to meet the Hero who stands at the center of the Legend, who the stories say is destined to save humankind and end the Deathspawn forever?"

"I... suppose it was a stupid question." Tani closed her eyes and accepted that if she wanted to work with Mohuno, it would not be so simple. He would have requests of his own, and it was only right for her to mirror his flexibility. "What are your demands?"

"I don't want to exchange demands." Mohuno took a step closer, again nearly touching her, and this time she didn't step away. "We want the same thing, do we not? I need to defend my people and you want to protect those peoples you have adopted. They stand between two ravenous beasts that would love nothing more than to consume them. Only by working together might we save them."

"Then you propose... an alliance?"

"An agreement." Mohuno extended his hand in a strange gesture, nothing like a proper Rhen greeting or even the Oken wrist clasp. Whatever it was, she understood that it represented a commitment she had never seen in him before.

Tani extended her hand to his, unsure how to take it. He clasped her hand firmly all the same.

Chapter 44

-

"Emdore was shocked by the sight of Emlioon's hair beneath her helm and all his fellows told him that she was surely an enemy assigned to seduce him. As the memories of her hair and halberd haunted him, Emdore sought other battlefields and other foes, yet none in the Maenhu could stand against his lance. Emlioon wept, but as she wept, she thought."

- excerpt from The Tale of Emdore and Emlioon

-

Celivia had seen a great many glorious fights, exchanges that left both warriors with increased respect for one another. She had seen brutal deaths, but also women who survived and for the first time accepted their own strength. Above all, she had seen the intimate understanding that arose when two warriors fought for nothing but the joy of it. For all that could be ugly in combat, she also saw its beauty.

War, on the other hand, involved more soldiers shitting themselves than she expected.

Currently half her band was groaning above the latrine, raising a horrendous smell that even reached their fire. Other bands seemed to struggle in the same way, but the reason for the illness had yet to be found. According to Ghasfik, such widespread illness wasn't uncommon, though he himself had succumbed, vomiting with the others.

In theory they had medicine to alleviate the symptoms, but Big Ragh had eaten all of their supply on his first day ill and it had only given him stomach cramps. So they were left to cope as best they could, which in Celivia's case meant bringing them water occasionally and otherwise staying as far away from the smell as she could.

When she passed by, Brifik looked up with a grin. "You think we could weaponize all this, Kaen? If we somehow hurled all this shit at the enemy, I think they'd surrender just from the smell!" He laughed so hard at his own joke that Celivia found herself smiling.

"Don't give them any ideas. Just bring them this water and make sure they drink it. Seems like the disease does little harm if you suffer through it."

"Why don't you... oh, you don't want to see everyone's dangly bits." Brifik gave her an exaggerated wink. "I understand, Kaen."

Instead of correcting him, Celivia merely shook her head and moved on. The truth was, she just wanted to be near anyone who smelled something like normal. She spent time with Ghalia and Reina when she could, but both were frequently busy at the front. That left Celivia as an officer, which in this case felt more like minding sick children.

Whatever the core problem was, even Jeraeli's company struggled with the illness. Unfortunately, Jeraeli had retreated far from the smell with her Feras companion, apparently spending all day in bed. Visiting them had left Celivia uncomfortable in a different way, and in any case she needed to remain near her band.

Tani and Slaten wouldn't suffer like that, if they were out there. Yet again Celivia found herself staring out over the peaks, her sense of depth fading into the heights. She made certain to attend every meeting with her assigned captain and always asked about their human opponents. It had given her a bloodthirsty reputation, but she was mostly interested in learning if Melal was present. If he was...

"I think I figured it out." Fijn appeared beside her carrying a crate of dried meat. "This deep in the mountains, our supply chains are suffering. Most of the food is good, but this entire crate is starting to go bad."

"And this can explain the illness all over camp?" She had presumed that the contests among bands, filled with meat dripping fat in the open sun, might have been related.

"There were more than a few crates, spread out over the cohorts." Fijn picked up one of the pieces of meat, strangely slick and greasy. "Some soldiers catch it from each other and the contests probably spread it. But here's the real problem: this crate is a new one. It wasn't just one bad shipment, we're going to keep receiving them."

"We have few enough rations as it is." After trying to think of an excuse, Celivia took one of the pieces and gnawed on it thoughtfully. She didn't even think about chewing in a masculine or feminine fashion until after, when she'd dealt with the unpleasant aftertaste.

"Uh... are you sure you want to do that, Kaen?" Fijn's eyes flicked back toward the latrine.

"My body won't become ill with a bit of food that's going bad. Here's what we do: inspect each new shipment of rations more carefully than normal, then send everything that's bad to me. Hopefully that way we can get enough to eat and no one will get sick."

"If you insist. Makes me want to stop my sein training, if rotten meat is all it will earn me."

"Keep at it if you want to live, Nin. When Ghasfik is feeling better, coordinate with him to move our camp. We need to avoid anyone being reinfected."

Fijn nodded his agreement and left the crate beside her before returning to the others. It was fortunate that he'd avoided the illness, because her work would have been much more difficult without him. Splinters and Huthur were also ill, one of those troubling her much more than the other.

Some part of Celivia felt that she should be rewarded for being a responsible band leader, but no one seemed to care. She simply continued with her training schedule, which now included the poorly dried meat. Even after several days she wasn't used to the taste, but she thought that it was still healthy enough. So long as she had enough food to support her training, the taste didn't matter.

Her band began to recover, but not enough to be ready when the call came for them to move. It seemed that without warning, the Earthbreaker clan had turned and struck the mansthein flank, just where it was weakest. Since everyone was being called, Celivia took Fijn, Brifik, Krafan, and Puga. The rest she would have to hope could finish recovering on their own.

Ghalia had been given a temporary command position, since the conflicts with human raiders had showed that the average band of soldiers couldn't compete. It was technically a demotion from being an independent warrior, yet Celivia found herself frequently thinking about what Jeraeli had said. Surely Ghalia was simply fighting as she thought was best, nothing more.

Reina's absence, on the other hand, was quite concerning. Dangerous as Reina could be, she was also fragile. Celivia found herself thinking more about her old friend than the half of her band that she had left behind when they began to march.

After days of tedious logistics and shitting in the woods, they hit the edge of the war without warning.

Celivia heard the screams first and saw soldiers dropping ahead of them. The humans were throwing spears from the northern flank, so other bands received the worst of the ambush, but now raiders howled down at them even as the second volley of spears soared overhead.

As she drew her whip, Celivia shoved Krafan to the ground just before a spear passed where he had been standing. There was no time to check on him, not with the raiders having closed. And Puga... damn Puga was charging back, as if his spear and shield alone would do any good against sein trained warriors.

She launched herself after him, colliding with a raider who rushed at his side. The impact startled the man more than her, so in a flash Celivia's knife was in his chest, her tail through his thigh, and her nails across his throat. When he crashed to the ground she leapt off the body.

Fijn and Brifik had wisely raised their shields with a tree at their back, so they were close to safe. But in the time it had taken her to catch up, a human had backhanded Puga, breaking his shield and sending him sprawling. He would have already been dead if other mansthein hadn't moved in to menace the raider.

Her strike took the warrior in the side, but this time her blows failed to penetrate deep. Not only could he keep fighting, an instant after he shoved her away, another human struck from nowhere. Though Celivia's reflexes were better than the raiders', she still struggled to deflect his wild axe swings with her knife. Her tail lanced out and stabbed his stomach several times, but he just kept coming, driving her back and nearly over Puga's body.

Celivia barely managed to land on the other side and released her whip in a focused strike. The raider ducked beneath it, as expected, but as her sein flowed down her whip it lashed around his weapon arm. Though the blades only dug into his skin superficially, they were enough for her to pull him off his balance and into position to cut his throat.

He pushed on despite the rush of blood, slamming his free hand into the side of her head. She tugged her whip again and stabbed him in the chest, but he only pulled back for another punch at her face.

This time she dodged aside, sank her teeth into his arm, and tore away part of the muscle.

With both of his arms disabled, the human finally fell. Celivia realized that Puga was on his back, staring at her in something like horror. Though her first impulse was to assist the other band, she saw that the injuries she had dealt the other raider had allowed the soldiers to fend him off with their formation. With the fighting around them stilled, Celivia bared all her teeth in a smile and offered Puga a hand up.

"These humans are tough, Nin. You need to stay in formation."

"So... so I see..." Puga accepted her hand, still staring at her. He would take some time to accept the reality of combat, but she thought that he just needed time to rest.

Meanwhile, the other three members of her band caught up to them, looking around themselves nervously. Without strong instincts, they were right to fear, as humans might appear from the forested hills at any moment. Celivia sensed none, but even she could be taken off guard, so she gestured for them to follow her cautiously.

At the top of a small hill, she was able to look over the current battlefield. It seemed that the first strike had been on a narrow ledge, many soldiers pushed off the side. The battle on the higher ground had gone to the mansthein, but below it was a slaughter. Few of the humans had died in the fall, so now they savagely finished off the fallen mansthein. Worse, the survivors below would soon advance on the upper position, and at a glance Celivia thought they were severely outnumbered.

Then she realized that someone was streaking toward them. She drew her whip before she realized that it was Reina. The other woman skidded to a halt, eyes wild, and spoke in a hoarse whisper.

"Celi, you have to pull back. They're coming."

"We retreat to that ridge!" Celivia gave the command to her band immediately, but as they moved, she bent closer to Reina. "What do you mean? What's happening?"

"This is what I'd hoped to stop... the commanders were tired of the humans ambushing us, so they brought a countermeasure..." Though Reina didn't finish her thought, Celivia understood.

At that moment, the howl of the Bersk echoed across the valley. She actually saw the ripple through the trees as they entered seinrage and scythed forward, falling on the human raiders in a storm of blades and screams. Since attempting to enter the battle at its height would be foolish, Celivia could only watch the carnage below.

The Bersk struck without regard for their own safety, ignoring injuries even more relentlessly than the raiders. Some who were impaled stopped moving, and decapitated raiders fell immediately, but the majority on both sides survived, tearing into one another and rendering the valley a bloody mess in a few heartbeats.

Realizing they were overwhelmed, many of the raiders attempted to flee to the upper ground... which was the worst thing they could have done. The Bersk relentlessly pursued them, now free to hack at limbs without fear of reprisal. As the battle surged toward their position, bodies struck the side of the ridge so hard that stones were dislodged.

Celivia heard a cry from her right and turned just in time to see Brifik stumble and fall over the edge.

She should have jumped immediately, but for a moment she only stared. Though he struck his head and shoulder on the way down, his equipment saved him from an immediate death. Considering that he tumbled toward the carnage, death might have been a mercy.

Though Celivia heard Reina whisper "Celi, no" she still found herself rushing after Brifik. She was too late to defend him immediately and several fleeing humans closing on him. Just as they raised their weapons to cut him down, a pair of Bersk hit them in a whirlwind of blades that sent limbs and gore flying in all directions.

Then the battle passed on, leaving Brifik covered in blood but unharmed.

As Celivia reached his position, she braced herself against the rushing bodies around her. In theory all Bersk were perfectly conditioned and would never attack a fellow mansthein. In reality, only a fool would entrust their safety to warriors in the grip of seinrage. Reina would never harm her, but these screaming Bersk were not Reina.

"Are you alright, Nin?" Celivia put a hand on his bloody shoulder and smiled, but it didn't matter. His eyes didn't even focus on her, staring out like little more than ornaments in his blood-spattered face. If anything could help him, it would be time.

Around them, the Bersk began to stalk as the battle ended. Though the death toll had been horrific, a third of the Bersk company still remained. Some hacked at any human bodies that still twitched, others screamed at the sky, and several began to pace toward them, mouths foaming.

"No." Reina appeared in front of a group and struck her hands together just in front of their faces. Celivia couldn't understand the complex sein that flowed with her movement, but it caused a nearly instant change.

As Reina moved from group to group, the Bersk changed. Some stumbled backward, staring at the sky as if seeing it for the first time. A few began speaking and laughing in shared relief, but many wept. Most simply wiped their mouths, kept their eyes down, and started cleaning their weapons. When Reina returned to stand by Celivia, she looked utterly exhausted.

"Some of them survived this time. But many won't survive the next, and so few Bersk live through three engagements..." Reina fell against Celivia as if she had gone into seinrage herself, murmuring into the other woman's stomach. "It's too cruel, Celi. No advantage is worth all of this."

"I know, Rei. I know." Celivia gently stroked her hair and held her close. When the rest of her band finally joined them, none dared to say a word.

Though the battle had been won, there was no discussion of returning to their former location. Those who survived moved just far enough that they could no longer see the carnage and made camp immediately. Celivia realized that the commanders had no doubt planned for this as well, letting the soldiers serve as bait in case any raiders tried for revenge.

After the Bersk strike, Celivia didn't think that was likely.

The Bersk made their own camp, no one ever suggesting that they should join the other mansthein. Despite everything she had experienced, when Celivia looked over them crouching like animals, some chewing on human remains, her stomach turned in revulsion.

Though she wanted to tell herself that these Bersk were nothing like Reina, she knew that it wasn't true. Reina might be healthier and her hair wasn't so matted, but they were fundamentally the same. If the Bersk scrabbling below had a rebirth and the opportunity for Teirsan's education, they could all lead real lives like Reina instead of being thrown against opponents as weapons.

Reina spent the evening working with the Bersk, teaching them how to reduce the side effects of seinrage and increasing their chances of surviving their next engagement. She smiled when she was among them, but when she returned at the end of the day, her eyes were empty. Almost immediately after she fell asleep with her head in Celivia's lap.

Part of her expected one of the band to make a joke about it, but she saw only somber faces. Worst of all, she saw Brifik staring into the fire and seeing nothing.

Chapter 45

-

"The littlest smith raised his hammer and struck the tree, and it become steelwood, which he forged into a growing blade. The littlest smith struck all that he saw and reforged it. He reforged a behemoth, reforged dry leaves, reforged dark stone, reforged water and ice. And at last, the littlest smith reforged a star itself, falling from the heavens as a drop of molten steel the likes of which had never been seen before."

- excerpt from a popular children's story across the Maenhu

-

After days attempting to train on her own, Veron ended up outside the house of that damn couple. She told herself that she intended to rob them blind, but didn't make any attempt in the end. Olondris was so often prowling nearby, it would be futile anyway.

Briefly her annoyance made her consider trying to kill Mantyos, to be done with them for good. But though she might succeed at the killing, she'd never survive. Besides, the idea only left a sense of distaste in her mouth. Somehow when she hadn't been looking, the kids had reached in and stolen her spine. They were the bandits, in the end.

It was the middle of the day, so there was no point just wandering in. Veron paced around the outside of the house as if she planned to rob it. Which she'd do, hopefully, it was just that she wanted to steal knowledge.

Mantyos was at his forge, working away on boring shit for the locals. Olondris was nowhere nearby, but Veron had noticed her habits before. Changing course on a whim, she headed to the local errant outpost instead.

There she soon spotted Olondris training several of the guards, all young ones. It reminded Veron of the kids and only drove her aggravation deeper. She might not be the equal of the Zeitai and other monsters, but even this old woman was superior to her. All she had was that pike with its infuriating reach and a bit of speed, nothing else. Without her armor she'd be nothing, though the bitch seemed to wear it at all times.

While she waited for the training to end, Veron idly wondered if she fucked her husband wearing that armor. Hell, he was a blacksmith, maybe he got off on that sort of thing. That thought kept her busy until at last Olondris finished her work and headed for home.

That made her route predictable, so Veron rushed to get ahead of her. All the dull square buildings made it easy to find an alley. Olondris didn't seem to talk to anyone on the street, though a few gave her respectful nods, so her pace was predictable as well. All she needed to do was wait... then strike.

Veron leapt from hiding, her sword swinging for the other woman's neck.

Olondris deflected the blade into the cobblestones with the back of her gauntlet.

It had been done so casually that Veron was enraged, shifting to swing in the other direction. Before she could, Olondris reached out with her other hand and simply grasped her wrist, stopping her cold. Though Veron struggled, the other woman's grip was like steel.

"Everything okay, Steeljudge?" Several errants appeared from nearby buildings, like they'd been waiting around for just that purpose. Olondris nodded briefly to them.

"It is a personal matter. You can go."

As the errants clanked away, Olondris released her and stepped back. Though Veron could have tried to attack again, she knew that it was useless. Olondris hadn't even used her pike, though now she set it in front of her and clasped both hands around it.

"It is inconvenient to be attacked in the streets. What do you want, Veron?"

"You talked a lot about my weaknesses." Veron sourly rammed her sword back in its sheath. "I wanted to see for myself."

"You desire training?"

"You think I'm one of the kids? Coming to beg you for help?" Veron tried to sneer, but Olondris just kept staring at her with that even gaze and she buckled. "Alright, fine, I'm here to beg a little."

"My services command a high price in a town like this. Why should I provide them to you?"

"What? You helped the others for free."

"Because I liked them." Olondris turned away, using her pike as a staff she didn't need. Veron stared for a moment, then scrambled after her.

"Are you really going to insist that I pay you? You and Mantyos don't seem to be suffering, so I doubt you need it."

"We don't. And I would not accept your money." Olondris stared over at her as they walked. "Why do you want training?"

"Because I want to be strong. That's a stupid question."

"And a false answer."

Olondris then walked away, leaving Veron fuming in the street. The worst of it was that Veron hadn't been lying or joking. Obviously she wanted to be strong, what was the point otherwise? She wanted to believe it was just a way of putting her off, but Veron still found herself stalking around the house that night, thinking about it.

Normally she would have found somewhere to drink and stopped caring for a while. They had taverns, and she saw travelers gambling over various games. But she didn't see anyone playing Jabble, and the coins were all wood, and even the beer tasted wrong. No, she couldn't do it.

Instead she returned to the house the next day, this time waiting for Olondris to leave. She saw the older woman part with Mantyos at the door, sharing an insufferably long kiss, then lurked a while longer in case it was a trick. Only once Olondris had truly left did Veron creep to the back door of the smithy.

She might not be able to get through Olondris, but the kids hadn't either. Mantyos was the weak link they had exploited, so she could do the same.

Veron slipped off her heavy robe, which wasn't necessary in the warm smithy anyway. Her armor already hugged her body, but she tugged the drawstrings tighter. On second thought, she threw subtlety to the winds and pulled off her breastplate. If the shirt underneath was pulled down properly, she could show off some cleavage.

Now prepared, Veron slipped inside the smithy. Mantyos worked at his forge as usual, sweat beaded over his body. Part of her had been reluctant to seduce an older man, but she had to admit that he looked good with the firelight glistening on his muscles.

As she walked toward him, she made no effort to hide her footsteps, but did put more swing into her hips. When Mantyos turned to look, she saw his eyes slide over her and linger just where she wanted. This wasn't hopeless after all. But in the end, he turned back to his work.

"If you're here for the children's weapons, they are not yet complete."

"I'm not here for those." Veron flowed to the other side of the anvil and stood with a hand on her hip. "Do you think you could forge a weapon for me?"

"There's a list, so you'd have to wait." Mantyos stopped hammering and looked up at her, eyes finally meeting hers. "What do you want, Veron?"

"I've traveled for a long time and your lands are too fucking cold. I want a warm bed... is that too much to ask?" She leaned forward to give him a better look and again saw his eyes move down before returning to hers. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse.

"You know I'm a married man."

"Who never explored everything life had to offer." Veron reached out and slid a hand over the muscles of his side, coming to rest over his nipple. "Wouldn't you like to try something else for once?"

"No." Mantyos grinned at her, his voice abruptly as calm as if they discussed the weather. Veron's arm froze on his chest and she stared at him.

"Liar! I saw you ogling my tits!"

"You're the one fondling my breasts."

She yanked her hand back. "Men... men don't have breasts!"

"Then what were you fondling?"

Had it all been a lie from the beginning? She had been sure that she'd heard the desire in his voice, but now she saw only dancing amusement in his eyes. Apparently such trickery was not solely the domain of women. Mantyos set down his hammer and leaned on the top of the shaft, his gaze infuriatingly fatherly.

"Are you interested in sleeping with children, Veron?"

"What? No!"

"You can see the beauty of their youth, but you would never imagine such a thing. That beauty is meant to dance in the fields and gather flowers and trust in the world. You, my dear, are an attractive woman, but it has just as little to do with me. When I look at you, I see only the weight of all my years with Olondris. I know some men have fallen into seductions saying that they feel young again, but you make me feel unbelievably old."

Veron stared at him, then cursed and turned away. He'd disarmed her as effectively as his wife had earlier. Thoughts of assault or seduction left her, in fact she wanted nothing more than to slink out of Torgaadi and never return. She turned away to collect her armor and cloak.

"Besides," Mantyos said as he picked up his hammer and returned to work, "you didn't even want it."

She spun back. "And you know what I want?"

"Not with a certainty, but I assume that after failing to convince Olondris to train you, you thought that you could get to her through me. That was the wrong idea from the start. My wife asked you a question and whatever you said didn't satisfy her. If you want her help, you will need to find a better answer."

"Then she told you about me. Do the two of you talk about everything?"

"What else are we supposed to do together? Other than the obvious, of course." His eyes danced as he smiled at her, but for once Veron no longer felt pushed aside. She should have been furious with him, yet something about Mantyos was endlessly disarming.

Veron sighed and ran her fingers over her scalp. "I don't suppose you'll tell me the right answer to her question?"

"I don't know it, only you do. But spend the evening, have a good meal, and think it over. I suspect you'll find the answer if you stop playing so many games with yourself."

"Don't feed her anything." The door slammed as Olondris entered, eyes hard in a way that suggested she had been watching the entire time. "You are not welcome here."

"Don't spend the evening, then, but still have a good meal." Mantyos smiled at her, but it was nothing compared to the way he beamed at his wife. Veron thought that Olondris might be upset with him, but she merely went to stand at his side and wrapped an arm around his waist.

Fucking infuriating.

For the next several days, Veron refused to go anywhere near them. Instead she stole some money, bought a room at a good inn, and did her best not to think about them. She failed utterly. Her thoughts were entirely consumed by that question.

It was exactly the sort of thing she'd always hated. Only pretentious assholes sat about contemplating the deeper truths of themselves as if that would bring them more strength than simply focusing on power. You didn't need any inner understanding to cut a man's head off, it was just a matter of swinging fast enough at the right angle. There was no secret at the core of her soul, simply the desire to fight.

Yet she couldn't forget the question, and her own training only made it all feel even more futile. If she trained for a year she might be able to strike a little harder and faster, but that wouldn't matter. Not against the monsters she faced, or even against Olondris.

Somehow she ended up wandering outside the couple's house more than once, just seething at them and their happiness. They were probably fucking in there just to spite her. One day when Veron was about to go, Olondris emerged from the door, gray eyes watching her.

"Why do you want training?"

"It's still a stupid question." Veron spat into the small garden, realized that probably just helped the damn plants, and cursed under her breath. "The only reason anyone trains is that they want to be strong."

"That is not true." Olondris spoke in the same flat tone, yet her stance was no longer so stiff. "To be strong is an abstract ideal, and most of those who believe they are motivated by such ideals are deceiving themselves. I seek strength to defend those I love, a means to an end. Slaten's truthful answer would be that he does not know. Tani's answer would be that she believes strength makes her more truly herself."

"I seek strength because I want you and your husband to accept me into your bed."

Olondris sighed and turned away. "If you do not intend to answer sincerely, there is no purpose to your presence here."

"I don't have your damn answer! Yeah, I might not give a shit about attaining some perfect strength. But there's never been any greater purpose. I've always trained just to be stronger than other people."

"That... is one of the first honest things you've said to me." Olondris turned back to her, eyes still hard, but something new in them. "I will teach you no secret arts, but I will help you understand your flaws."

"Really?" Veron stood blinking for a few heartbeats. "But that answer wasn't different at all."

"You are wrong in that. 'To be stronger than others' is a different purpose than an ideal, and I believe it is one you will find is more true than you know."

Though Veron tried to think about it, she just didn't see it. If there was a secret buried in her answer, it was lost to her. "Now you're the one not being honest. You wanted nothing to do with me before, now you're willing to help?"

"Mantyos has more hope for you than I do. He believes that you only need a little guidance to better apply yourself to life."

"Dammit, old man!" Veron wrenched open the door to shout at him. "You've humiliated me enough, I don't need your pity!"

The smith waved cheerfully from his forge. "I only want what is best for you, my daughter. Perhaps after your training we can make a necklace of flowers and braid your hair."

Though Veron started to curse at him, Olondris grabbed her by the back of her shirt and pulled her out of the house. All of it pissed Veron off except the fact that she'd somehow stumbled into what she actually wanted. Olondris wasn't throwing her out, but dragging her to their small training yard.

Part of Veron hated the pair, but she had to admit that they had something she needed. If she couldn't steal it, she'd have to play by their rules.

"Fine." Veron let her hands fall to her sides and dusted off a sincere look to give Olondris. "You said I'm unbalanced with many weaknesses. What are they?"

"If I spoke them all aloud, I would never begin my other work." Despite her mockery, Olondris stood across from her and watched with a serious gaze. "Your ability to use large amounts of sein at once is exemplary, but you are too reliant on it. Properly crafted techniques would make far better use of your strength. In particular, you are desperately in need a defensive art and a movement art."

"But you said you wouldn't teach me any, and I'm not going to learn those in a few days."

"Just so. The weakness that you can most easily correct is that your understanding of your sein is nearly random, stretching in all directions at once and understanding few. Though your rank suggests that you know your sein with four senses, I believe that the Wooden Judge is wrong in your case. I suspect that you have mastery of only two, with a weaker understanding of two others."

The fact that Olondris was exactly right should have pissed her off more, but Veron forced herself past that. If she was going to let them humiliate her, at least she was getting something good out of the deal. It was true: she tasted sein as whiskey and felt it as smooth clay, but the rest was vaguer. Veron nodded glumly and Olondris continued.

"Here I am less certain, but I believe it may be one source of the problem: how do you smell sein?"

"It smells like bread. Not the shit you have here, proper Coran bread."

"You have access to that part of yourself, but instead of using it to create something new, you simply burn it away to make yourself faster or stronger. That is a technique to be used as an act of desperation, not an errant's permanent condition."

"Somebody else tried to tell me that." Veron shook her head, surprised at the old memories the words dislodged. "But I've never been suited for fancy mystic arts."

"Neither am I." Olondris lifted her pike in one hand and ran the fingers of her other along the sharp edges. "But your sein is not a set of rules you must follow, it is part of yourself that you must understand. When I began to smell sein, I failed to use it for nearly a year. In time, I learned to let it flow directly into my mind. As you grow faster, you will find that the limitation on your speed is not how quickly you can move your body, but how quickly your mind can react."

Veron grunted in acknowledgment since it made sense. If Olondris had made her dance on top of rocks and balance eggs on her nose, she might have left anyway. But the older woman seemed practical, and it was good to know she could give reasonable advice when she wasn't being a bitch.

"Finally, one of your four senses must be weakest. Which one?"

"Hearing, I think." Veron shrugged and let her strength flow through her, but it was like trying to sing along with a song in a different language. "It sounds a bit like music, and I found new sein when I started feeling it, but I've never been able to draw deeper."

"Then we will begin there." Olondris sat down smoothly and balanced her pike across her lap. "Sit with me and listen carefully."

Over the next several days, Olondris put her through exercises that were just on the edge of too irritating to complete. Some of them were simple enough strength training, digging deeper into herself. Others were the kind of meditation that Veron had always hated.

Yet Olondris had a strangely practical approach to it. As Veron reluctantly gave up details of how she understood sein, Olondris responded with concrete parallels. She was given a clay pot to hold and Mantyos set out a loaf of bread - it didn't smell quite right, but it was close enough. They regarded her skeptically when she said that sein tasted like whiskey to her but eventually accepted it and gave her a flask.

That sort of training, Veron could get behind.

Once she had grown used to all those senses, Olondris bound her ears with pieces of cotton and a tight band of cloth. It itched like hell and made it that much harder to meditate, but maybe that was the point. Veron put up with it and did what she could.

The whole thing struck her as ass backwards. Her other senses were just getting in the way, distracting her from concentrating on her hearing. Running her hands over the smooth clay pot only sent her mind wandering off into empty plains instead of focusing. It was all too much, leaving her feeling like she had as a child, stumbling to understand anything of sein at all.

And yet she found that she heard something. At first it was a conversation in another room, soft sounds that could not quite become words. Gradually she came to realize that she had been hearing a tune all along, humming the slow song under her breath without realizing. It all reminded her of something, just on the edges of her mind, never quite understood.

When she understood, the ground gave way underneath her. Veron plummeted onto the filthy streets of Noraltan, a child again. Angry and terrified, but occasionally she heard a woman singing a song. It was nothing like the street chants and bar ditties she knew, slow and sad and anchored within the heart. She had spent so long listening to it and forgotten until that moment.

Veron opened her eyes and discovered that she was crying. Part of her had been hollowed out, and though strength filled the empty space, she almost didn't want it.

"That felt like a breakthrough." Olondris looked up from her own meditation to speak. Though Veron faced a wall, she quickly used the band to dry her face.

"Yeah, it was. I can hear sein real good now. Sorry for giving you shit about this."

"And what do you hear?"

"It... it's a bawdy song about farmers fucking their animals."

Olondris stared at her for so many heartbeats that Veron wondered if she would refuse the answer, but eventually she nodded. "Listen well."

Chapter 46

-

"Refusing her betrothal, Emlioon donned the armor of an Espalese errant and attempted to cross the warring lines. Yet as she crossed those warring lines, a Wahleenese errant fell upon her. She began to throw aside her helm to show herself, yet her opponent pressed her sorely, and she was unable to take her hands from her halberd. And as she felt a familiar joy fill her, she threw herself at her opponent's lance."

- excerpt from The Tale of Emdore and Emlioon

-

Chief Bufogu was simultaneously the manliest and most frustrating man Mohuno had ever met. Everything about him, from his enormous size to the blood that pulsed when he flexed, showed his raw power. He was smart, too, with a shrewd eye for the politics of a clan.

Yet Bufogu remained utterly convinced that he understood everything about the world and had no room for questions or other ideas. Whenever Mohuno tried to suggest anything unusual, it was treated as a jest or scorned as weakness. Having so many ideas thrown back in his face gave Mohuno an appreciation for how Tani might be frustrated with him.

"You need to bring your men here." Bufogu slammed a fist into his palm. "We unite and then we crush them together."

"You're underestimating them," Mohuno said. He and the Bloodskin chieftain had been standing on the hill so long that his legs were beginning to hurt, but he refused to let them budge. "The Deathspawn you've fought so far are only preparing their way to Mount Tmil. Our strength is the fact that our clans are scattered across the mountains and can strike from any side."

"I agree that is a strength. But I think perhaps you are more concerned with protecting all your petty little villages, since you do not have the men to defend them."

Again, that keen eye. Mohuno smirked to deflect the accusation and took another path. "You don't have enough men to defend yourselves either."

"Do you think the Bloodskins weak?" Bufogu stepped closer, grabbing his arms as if to lift him from the ground. Mohuno wanted to draw his sword but instead just broadened his smile. "Or are you truly so scared of the Deathspawn?"

"Neither. But we need to fight not only the Deathspawn, but the other clans as well. The Bloodskins may be a mighty clan, but how many of your men will fall in battle? Will those who remain be able to stand against the Stormpeaks, Bonewalkers, and Coldsteps?"

Bufogu let go of him and stepped back, frowning as he accepted the logic. Mohuno used the opportunity to shift his weary legs, pretending to speak to the chieftain but equally addressing the men around them.

"I know that the Steelbones are surrounded by minor clans who would never dare to attack us. But if we throw ourselves into a war, they will see weakness. We may crush one, but another will attack from the other side and take a village or a caravan. I refuse to throw my clan into such a trial."

"Your words are not so weak after all." Though Bufogu smiled and gave him a nod of respect, it was all a feint. The chieftain still wanted to force the Steelbones to join and then absorb them, just as he'd absorbed other clans. He pretended otherwise only because he knew Mohuno's words had swayed the men listening.

What bothered Mohuno most was that the Bloodskin clan was unquestionably stronger than his own. Not when it came to food, trade, or territory, but a war between them could have only one conclusion. The Bloodskins had Bufogu as their champion and four men of great strength. The Steelbones had only Uncle Fahuwe and, if he was being generous, himself.

He was beginning to regret taking the mansthein offer. Yes, their agreement had saved the lives of many of his men, and the tribute the mansthein offered would strengthen their position if they survived. But survival looked uncertain. Something was deeply wrong with everything about this war in a way that squirmed from beneath him like a determined opponent.

Then the Hero approached and the world changed.

For the first time, Mohuno laid eyes on the man behind so many stories. Even without Tani to introduce him, there could be no doubt as to his identity. The Hero walked up the hill as if he expected the ground to cower before him. His eyes blazed with something more potent than the hottest blood, a purpose that struck Mohuno to the core.

Not long ago, he had thought Chief Bufogu the manliest of men. The Hero didn't merely claim that title, he made it a tawdry bauble. Though not as tall as the hulking chieftain, the light that spilled from him dominated the hill. When he reached the top, all eyes were on him.

"Your clans have bickered for long enough. It is time for you to stand together against the true enemy."

Mohuno choked as he heard that voice, strong in a way he'd never known was possible. If he could speak, he knew that he would sound like a squeaking boy compared to those doubtless tones. All at once he knew that his maneuverings and deceptions were meaningless, nothing but childhood games.

"We have word that the Deathspawn will march on Mount Tmil as soon as they complete their preparations," the Hero declared. "We cannot meet them in battle unless we unite. But even that may not be enough, not if they deceive the other clans. I need you to deal with such things."

"The Earthbreakers were mostly crushed between us, but the Stormpeaks roam the region." Bufogu's voice was nothing but animal grunting compared to the Hero. Yet when Mohuno looked at him, he saw that the larger man's eyes did not contain any of the Hero's hope. There was only low cunning there, and in that moment Mohuno hated him. "The Skullcrushers have also avoided any combat and can throw many men into the war."

The Hero frowned at such unworthy ideas. "Those are problems. I asked you for solutions. What is to be done about the petty tribes that stand in our way?"

"I have an idea." Mohuno hadn't intended to speak, yet what choice did he have? When the Hero's pure white gaze fell on him he felt himself elevated to something greater than himself and he could only hope that the words tumbling from his mouth had any worth. "If we strike properly, we can force the Deathspawn to take the eastern path. They do not know it borders Stormpeak territory and a conflict between them will thin both sides."

"An excellent idea." The Hero smiled at him and it mattered more than anything Mohuno had ever experienced in his life.

A feeble worm in his heart struggled. He hadn't intended to reveal that idea, especially not to Chief Bufogu. His plan had been to mislead the Deathspawn subtly, then urge the Bloodskins off course as well, leading to a conflict between the three. But what did those plans matter? What did any plans matter? Now he could see that helping the Hero reach Mount Tmil was their only reason for existing.

The Hero continued speaking to the others, but every word struck Mohuno's heart like glorious blades. He found himself remembering none of it, only the glorious hope. In this war, they stepped into the Legend itself. What specifically the Hero said was insignificant compared to the beauty of his vision.

Afterward he found himself wandering, staring up at the sky and filled with a new appreciation for its beauty. At these heights, the shining white clouds hung low overhead, but he felt as though he floated above them. All he wanted was to return to the Hero again, because the longer he was away, the less beautiful those clouds seemed and the more thoughts entered his mind about the battles to come.

"Mohuno?"

He turned to see Tani and saw only a woman. Her value lay only in the part she played in the Legend, not in any carnal thoughts he'd once held. She frowned at him, a hideous expression that marred the glory clouding his mind.

Then she slapped him across the face.

"What are you doing?" Mohuno grabbed her wrist and roared out the words, but he staggered with his next heartbeat. The world tilted as if he faced the worst drunkenness and hangover of his life at once.

"You need to remember yourself. Think about what Melal said and what it actually means."

"Does it matter? You should have heard him, Tani. Such beautiful words... I never realized..."

"Think, Mohuno! You're capable of strategy, you just need to remember it. Ignore everything Melal said and focus on the realistic outcome. If you throw all of your clan into this war, how many will die?"

What did it matter how many would die? Compared to taking their places in the glory set before them, their lives meant nothing...

Yet that thought, burning through him with utter sincerity, jarred Mohuno to his senses. He let go of Tani's wrist and gripped his forehead instead, trying to focus. Thinking about the numbers of his men and the details of warfare felt so tedious compared to what the Hero had offered. The Legend was purpose. It was meaning and value in a way that mere lives could never equal.

Again he reeled from the thought. Mohuno saw Tani looking at him in something like concern or pity and couldn't endure her gaze. Instead he turned to the lean man he only then noticed. Slaten, his name was, a lowlander swordsman who traveled with Tani. At first Mohuno had been worried that he would steal Tani's affections before he realized they fought like brother and sister.

That venal thought brought him back to himself more than all those that came before. Mohuno shook his head sharply and forced himself not to avoid Tani's gaze. "I... have not been myself."

"The Hero has that effect," Tani said. "It's worst at the beginning, but you can resist if you hold on to yourself."

"Both of you..." He took a weak step backward and nearly fell, then made himself walk to a nearby cliff face to support himself. "I don't see the Legend in your eyes. Have you been around him so long that you've learned to resist it?"

"Slaten and I have learned mental arts for that purpose, but it will grow easier with time." Tani smiled at him in a way that should have started his blood flowing, but Mohuno felt emptied in every way. "You've taken the first step, Mohuno. You held on to your self."

"No, I didn't. I still feel... I know what the battle will be like and how many of my men will die, but... somehow I don't respond. It is as if my heart is so full of everything else that I can't even feel sorrow. Or... I would, but that sorrow has so much more weight than their deaths. They aren't really deaths, just... just..."

"A glorious sacrifice?" Slaten spoke for the first time, his voice even harsher than all that came before it. Yet the ugliness of his voice helped force Mohuno to his senses and he nodded.

"Yes. You... you understand."

"We can help you," Tani said, stepping closer and putting a hand on his arm, "but we need you to think clearly first. Have you given your clan any orders to follow the Hero?"

"I... no. I had ideas, but..." All the details had seemed so petty compared to the Hero's glory overflowing within him. For the first time, he felt less guilt than a sense of relief. He hadn't sent the Steelbone clan to its death, no matter how magnificent it might have been.

"Then there's time. Clear your head first. Sparring might help, but I think it would be better if you tried with Slaten instead of me."

Once he might have objected, since sparring with Tani might have been a pleasurable experience. But he had no room to desire anything else after that experience. At once exhausted and filled with nervous energy, Mohuno drew his sword and attacked without warning.

It could have been a mistake, yet Slaten smoothly drew his sword and blocked his strike as if he understood. Mohuno attacked him relentlessly, letting increasing rage fill him. Though a righteous anger toward the Deathspawn began to rise within him, he overwhelmed it with a raw hatred of what had been done to him. Later he would try to remember the mansthein, but now there was only wrath.

As they fought, their sparring a thin veneer over their violence, Mohuno began to feel himself again. He felt lesser, a reduced form of the man he had been with the Hero, but that man had been a stranger. For the first time he could feel true hatred for Melal and a desire to put a sword through his head.

Yet even then, he thought that it would be a tragedy for the world to lose something so glorious.

Chapter 47

-

"One's beard must be kept tightly braided in public, cared for only in the presence of close friends, and never displayed unbraided near unfamiliar women. In this, the gentlemen of Espal distinguish themselves from the uncouth tangles of Portant, the crude cuts of Wahleen, or the shaven jaws of outsiders."

- Espalese Gentleman's Guide

-

As the Fourth Northern Legion prepared for war, Celivia did the best she could to help Brifik. Caring for seinshocked warriors was traditionally a female role, but she couldn't bring herself to leave him to others. He had suffered under her command, after all, and might not recover without help. Though they had hardly been close, she found that she missed his strange laughter.

There were no jests now. Brifik sat wherever they had left him and stared at nothing. The sound of steel against steel made him flinch, every muscle in his body convulsing as his sein reacted in terror.

A few of the others had attempted to draw him into their games and he had only shivered. Soon enough, they began to ignore him. Perhaps some hoped that he would recover, sitting in the circle with his old allies, but Celivia feared that he drifted further and further away. Yet she had not truly known him well enough to have any idea how to help him.

"I don't think he's with us anymore, Kaen." Ghasfik spoke quietly, but more than loud enough for Brifik to hear. No response.

"I'd prefer not to believe that." Celivia touched Brifik on the shoulder as she rose, then stepped away with her second. "I saw him leave the fire last night to go somewhere. He's more active than he was before."

"He went to purchase alcohol. I think he's trying to drink himself to death."

Celivia cursed and rubbed her eyes. "You're taking it away from him?"

"When I can, but I do not believe it to be a mercy. His will is broken."

"Seinshock doesn't have to be the end. I've known others who recovered from it."

"Others, perhaps. Not us." Ghasfik stared at her somberly and she realized that he'd stopped calling her Kaen. "He joined the army because he wasn't sure what he wanted to do with his life. People such as you might claw their way back to accomplish some purpose, but..."

Looking back at Brifik, Celivia struggled not to accept that conclusion. "Are you truly saying that you've never seen a soldier recover from seinshock?"

"Mild cases, yes. But those who are truly broken... I know only one old veteran who retired after his shock. Given a place to rest away from war, he eventually laughed again. But the mansthein army doesn't grant leave for such inner wounds, and we can only shield Brifik so much. He'll be thrown against the enemy at his most brittle."

"Even if you're right, let's not accept it easily." The words felt weak, but she had no others. Celivia nodded to Ghasfik and left him with Brifik, unable to meet that empty gaze any longer.

As she walked through the camp, she saw the signs of war all around her. Those few who were still sick had been left behind and those who remained had all faced the enemy. According to their commanders, the assault on the Sage would begin once they had increased their elite strength. Celivia suspected that meant they were waiting for Zeitai Kreue, but there were rumors of more.

Celivia herself felt as prepared as she could be, even if her band was not. All the time waiting had been excellent for her sein training, leaving her completely comfortable with all four of her senses. She had even considered learning an entirely new technique to take advantage of her new sein, but chose instead to reserve it in preparation for a Catai rebirth. If they granted her one, she would need the excess.

Most of the soldiers went about their business, but several glares caught her like a jagged blade. To her surprise, Celivia spotted Splinters among a group of soldiers, all of whom turned away from her. Though her mind wanted to cast them in a villainous light, other than Splinters they appeared to be upstanding soldiers like thousands of others across the world.

Just as Celivia was considering whether or not to say anything, Ghalia approached. "Celi, have you seen Rei?"

"She's still with the Bersk. Do you need to send a message to her?"

"No, I just wish we could drink together again." Ghalia put an arm around Celivia's shoulders and led her away, lowering her voice. "Don't tell the others, but one of their preparations for the battle is releasing resources for more rebirths. Some kind of deal with the humans of Wahleen made it possible. So you'll be marching into battle with more Catai."

Though that was important information, Celivia's mind was still on their mutual friend. "There are Bersk in Xetsu's army, aren't there? Have any of them received a Catai rebirth?"

"One, I think. Xetsu cares as little about that as he does about sex and everything else that isn't fighting. But that one tried to leave his past behind... let's just say he's the shortest Catai I've ever seen. Strong, though."

"I understand that they might not want to spend the resources on someone with a shortened lifespan, but it still feels like a waste."

"Now you sound like Reina. And this was actually supposed to be about you." Ghalia leaned over as they walked, putting her considerable weight on Celivia's shoulders. "You're too meek, Celi. If you want to become a Catai, you need to reach out and seize it for yourself. The soldiers might mostly like you, but they don't matter compared to catching the eye of your superiors. And the Catai haven't really noticed you."

"Just how do you know all this?"

"Catai gossip." Ghalia grinned to reveal all her knife-like teeth. "There aren't so many of us, even in an army like this, so they welcomed me straight away. We have a lot of problems that need complaints... you have no idea how easy it is to break chairs, for example."

"I can imagine." Celivia admitted to herself that she hadn't considered the plight of Towd in much detail, but surely there must be downsides. "What other problems wouldn't other mansthein expect?"

"A lot of the males complain about how big their cocks are, and how no woman will touch them."

"That is... not the kind of problem I had in mind, Ghali."

"Admit it, you're thinking about Catai dick now." Ghalia leaned on her with a grin, but Celivia merely slipped her grip.

"It's not as though they went through natural rebirths. They would have been able to control their size to something most women might want."

"You have a lot to learn about males, Celi. You did always like learning things, though. Do you want me to make some introductions?"

Realizing that Ghalia had every intention of pushing the conversation to as uncomfortable of territory as she could, Celivia resolutely changed the subject. "Has anyone in Xetsu's legions ever said anything about the Zeitai rebirth?"

"That... is not the same." The amusement vanished from Ghalia's face and she looked eastward, as if she could see all the way to Eltar Trathe. "I don't know much. It doesn't use a rebirth chamber and it requires more than just strength. I know a few have asked Xetsu and he didn't answer. He does that often, so it might not mean anything."

Or it might mean a great deal. Different nations and factions of mansthein treated rebirth differently, allocating the resources required according to their own priorities. But no one seemed to control the Zeitai ascensions, they simply occurred at random. It was one aspect of power that stood above all other squabbling.

"Celi! There you are!"

Both of them turned to see Jeraeli advancing toward them... and the woman was quite a sight. The first thing Celivia noticed was how much hotter the fire of her sein burned, the kind of rapid change that could only have come from a rebirth. Despite herself, Celivia stared as the other woman approached.

Jeraeli had not taken the bulky Towd form, instead her rebirth had left her much the same. If anything, she was even curvier, and her legs definitely appeared longer as they flashed in the slits of her robe. Her hair shimmered brighter than before and her skin was a lighter gray, but those things were to be expected. Oddly, her ears had shifted from thin Laenan spikes to a stubby Seinan triangle, though she hadn't abandoned her Laenan horns.

"Yes, drink it all in." Jeraeli laughed and spun in a circle, her robes and hair following around her. "Catainan Jeraeli is rather a sight, is she not?"

Ghalia chuckled. "You make me wonder if I like women after all. Just what form is this? Why change your ears?"

"Oh, the ears are purely for the aesthetic." Jeraeli ran a hand along the tip of hers as if her body was still unfamiliar. "This is something of my own devising, but I developed it based on the Seirios route. No offense to you, Ghali dearest, but I could never manage that look."

"Your nails..." Celivia reached out on an instinct and Jeraeli eagerly thrust out a hand to show off the painted claws.

"Aren't they beautiful? Sadly, they aren't that color naturally, so I will need to reapply it every day."

"They're for stabbing, aren't they?" So much of Jeraeli's body was so graceful, the stiffness of her fingers stuck out. Celivia recognized it in herself, her own nails much shorter but also built solidly into her fingers so that they could be used to slash.

For a moment Jeraeli looked truly surprised, then she let out a delighted laugh and kissed Celivia on the cheek. "I didn't expect you to notice! You didn't really think they would let me undergo a rebirth just to become more beautiful, did you? I think a great deal of myself, but..."

"They don't look like much good to me." Ghalia peered closer at the shorter woman's hands, and at that moment Jeraeli struck.

Her hand flattened and thrust out like a knife, stabbing Ghalia multiple times in rapid succession. Normally striking a Towd Catai would have been a good way to break fingers, yet Jeraeli's entire arm supported the stabbing points. Though her claws were painted, they were also very sharp. They failed to break Ghalia's skin, but she backed away and rubbed her stomach.

"Your claws are sharp, little Catai!" Ghalia winced slightly. "Given time to practice and grow a little more, you could disembowel someone with those. I imagine they can already break through armor?"

"You think I've tried? Look how much time I spent painting them, I'm not ruining all that work!" Jeraeli moved to Celivia again, giving her a quick embrace. "But I desperately wanted to speak to you before they sent me away."

"You're leaving?" Celivia asked. "I assumed that you had been promoted for the sake of the battle."

"No, not in my case. I was granted a rebirth so that I could replace a much stronger Catai who can now join the war. He was in charge of that mining operation that has caused us so much trouble. I had wanted to ask... you know something, don't you?"

Celivia knew that her hands had clenched and didn't try to loosen them. "Kreue is searching for something that he thinks is related to the Hero. It might or might not exist, but if you found it, he would no doubt reward you."

"That's not why you're so tense, is it?"

"No. Jeraeli, there are... Kreue wants to bring breeding pits here. He's imported Feinan women and possibly some of the weaker Wahleenese mansthein. I saw only a little, but it's every bit as terrible as the tradition has always been. You need to do something."

"Oh, Celi..." Jeraeli's face had slowly fallen as she listened, and now she shook her head. "That's horrifying, but you do understand that I can't go against the Zeitai's orders? At most, perhaps I can make the practice less horrible."

Nothing could change the bare facts of it, but Celivia took a deep breath and decided not to make her last moments with Jeraeli an argument. "I hope you can. And maybe if you find what the Zeitai wants and we end this war, he won't need to breed a new army after all."

"Yes, there's the optimistic Celi I love!" Jeraeli kissed her on the cheek again before backing away and giving both of them a polite bow. "I'm pleased to have met you as well, Ghali. I wish all of you the Dark Lord's own luck in the battle to come."

With that blessing, Jeraeli left them quickly. The mention of the pit tore a hole in all of Celivia's other emotions. No matter what she did, no matter if she helped Brifik recover, worse was being done there. Acts executed under the order of the Zeitai she now served. At least it seemed that Kreue had yet to find whatever he sought.

"You can't trust her." Ghalia ground out the words as soon as Jeraeli had left their sight, putting a heavy hand on Celivia's shoulder. "She's a politician, Celi, and she's using you. Has she done anything deserving of a Catai rebirth? She built that on top of your work."

"Do you know that for certain, or are those merely suspicions?"

"Suspicions, but you need to be more careful. Have you noticed how quickly she began calling us Celi and Ghali? You've known her for less than two years and she acts as though we came up from the pits together. Just because you want to cooperate with all women doesn't mean that others won't take advantage of you over it."

"You're right, Ghali. I should be more careful." But though Celivia smiled at her old friend, she found her suspicions sliding in another direction entirely. She had endured many hardships together with Ghalia, but those had been many years ago.

Chapter 48

-

"The Wahleenese errant removed his helm and was revealed to be Emdore, and Emdore cast his helm aside. He lowered his lance and caught Emlioon with his arms instead. The two proclaimed that they wanted nothing more than one another and cast aside all their armor, and with their armor cast aside, they journeyed together to the south, the war of those days forgotten."

- excerpt from The Tale of Emdore and Emlioon

-

Mount Tmil loomed above all others, the dark clouds around the peak gradually falling closer. Whenever Tani attempted to enjoy the mountains, she found her gaze wandering toward that isolated peak. Though it wasn't a particularly forbidding mountain, strangely pale against the dark clouds, it still filled her with a sense of foreboding.

If all went well, by the end of the day they might have reached that mountain. There, she would finally meet the Sage that Slaten and Laeri had told her so much about. Whoever he was, he supposedly held the secrets to the Legend itself. Saving his life had been the purpose of all the violence.

The three of them trained together in order to reach that outcome, though it would be more accurate to say that Slaten and Mohuno trained together and Tani meditated on her own. Swordsmen always surprised her with the details of their conversation. Though they had many concerns in common, such as footwork and sein, the discussion of specific blades and strikes left her alone.

What she needed to do, she realized, was stop introducing Slaten to swordsmen who had captured her eye. Then they wouldn't spiral into the sword vortex together.

Tani realized the next moment how casually she had thought about Mohuno in romantic terms. Though she began to refuse the thought, soon after she reversed and accepted it. Her mind was scattered, so as her master said, she should accept all parts of herself.

She had been skeptical at first, but it seemed that Mohuno had been truthful. Not all of his clan had changed, but he no longer intimidated women into his furs. Even bending all her new senses to analyze him, he seemed to be sincere. Which made it all the more frustrating when his sincere efforts still struck her as inadequate.

Did she always find herself attracted to people who proved so difficult? Celivia was one of the most attractive women she'd met, and they found themselves on opposite sides. Shaking aside the thought, Tani considered further back. Narenel had been kind and goodhearted, but he had kept to his honor and then they had been separated when the Coran Resistance was betrayed.

The pain of those memories hurt less than the quiet thought that she had never gone after him. Perhaps they could have been together, but now it was likely that they would simply never see one another again. It made Tani think of Eraes's mirror in her pack... would she continue onward, collecting relics and memories of those she lost forever? She wondered if such a journey was worth it, yet it seemed to her that any journey would leave behind so much...

Abruptly Tani realized how long she had been sitting, barely meditating and simply stewing over her thoughts. She was a warrior, not an inexperienced girl. Tani rose to her feet and channeled all her frustration into a swift series of five throws.

She thought that she might be able to bind a sixth knife in place with sein taking the role of her missing finger, but this was not the time for experimentation. Tani jerked all her knives back to her hands instead, practicing the catches. Ideally, she could alternate two knives in each hand, creating an endless chain of throws. Her body could finish the movements, but her sein clung to old habits.

"Tani." Slaten's voice came low, a warning that needed no explanation. She turned and saw Melal stride into the clearing, his eyes bright.

"It is time." Melal looked fully the Hero in that moment, his eyes piercing straight through them to the mountain in the distance. "We march to war."

~ ~ ~

As her band marched within the rest of the army, Celivia sought some final words for the soldiers with her. She wanted to warn them to be careful in a battle of this scale, but if she had not already trained those instincts into them, it was too late. If any words could have restored Brifik from his vacant shuffle, she would have spoken them. Somehow she still hoped that by some strategy she could find and protect her human friends on the other side.

But the time for words had passed.

Ahead she could see Mount Tmil impaling the sky. It almost looked unnatural to her, rising isolated among other peaks, yet what culture could create a mountain? Even without the gathering clouds, she felt something tugging her from the peak. Attraction and revulsion twisted together inside her and she felt her teeth grit together involuntarily. That was when she realized that the Hero must be present, somewhere in the bare hills around them.

Perhaps a few more words could still matter. "Keep your rage in check." Celivia turned to look over her band, especially Ghasfik. "You may see a great many new threats, but your best hope of survival is to remain in formation. If you feel the urge to charge the humans, realize that it is a trap."

Splinters sneered. "Are you saying that the humans will reach into our heads to make us charge?"

"I'm saying that if you lose control, you die." The steel in her voice silenced even Splinters. Making them fear might be bad for morale, but she hoped it would be good for their lives.

According to the plan, they would march for an entire day to seize Mount Tmil itself. Celivia kept her hands on the hilts of her weapons, presuming that an attack would come sooner. Not only did she suspect that the Hero would interrupt them, another cohort had been devastated in an attack by the Stormpeak clan. The region surrounding Mount Tmil was too densely packed with forces for them to take it easily.

Soon enough, her suspicions were confirmed as a shrill call echoed over the mountains. Several Stormpeak warriors emerged at the head of the column, not using an ambush because they didn't need one. They struck the side of the mansthein lines, sending soldiers scattering in pieces with the force of their blows.

As the army turned south to face them, Celivia felt the light stab her eyes. Before she even fully understood, she found herself shouting to everyone who could hear.

"The west! Brace west!"

Her cry came in time for her band, which quickly turned and slung their shields from their backs, but it was too late for the soldiers nearer the side of the valley. Raider spears struck the flank of the mansthein army, and the timing was no accident. They had waited for the Stormpeaks to begin the battle and now sought to exploit their advantage.

Though she should have given command or comfort, Celivia instead choked on light. She could feel the Hero's presence, a burning wall of flame approaching the battlefield. Whether it was Melal or another human, she could not be sure, but it didn't matter.

The initial ambush broke apart the flank's discipline and they shattered as raiders began to run from the west. Strangely, not only did Celivia spot several different clans, she saw northern errants as well, all fighting together. That could only be the Hero's work.

With the flank broken, Celivia's band was part of the next line. They came together quickly enough, forming a shield wall with the other bands of their company. Though her heart pumped slow and heavy, preparing her for battle, Celivia instead mired in thickening air, behind her own lines. The soldiers and raiders clashing together looked slow to her, attempting to kill each other with agonizing leisure as she waited.

From the corner of her eye, Celivia spotted someone cutting through the morass. A Stormpeak man, blue across his face and dyeing his beard, leapt to the top of a tree, faster than she could move. When she looked at him deeper, Celivia saw his sein as a white hot campfire. He faced the forces below, gathered his strength, and opened his mouth in a shout...

From it emerged a bolt of lightning.

After everything else had gone so slowly, the lightning instantly burned into existence, forks of white-hot fire stabbing through all sides. Mansthein and raiders alike were charred by the blast and many more fell to the ground with the crack of thunder that followed.

"Stand firm!" Celivia shouted at her band, pulling Big Ragh back to his feet. "Someone else will intercept him!"

She realized that none of them could hear her, deafened by the thunder. Instead of yelling further, she merely helped them regain their formation, her eyes fixed on the Stormpeak warrior. Though he opened his mouth again, as she'd suspected, one of Kreue's top warriors leapt at him and the two spun away into personal combat, leaping from tree to tree above the others.

The lines to their left abruptly collapsed and raiders swarmed among them. Celivia finally allowed herself to draw her weapons, her whip severing the sword arm of one human while her knife held off another. They were weak compared to the raiders' strongest and she whirled death around her, cutting down those who came close until at last she had a moment to breathe.

No sooner had she earned it than she heard the now familiar cry of a Bersk seinrage. They struck out from the back of the army, briefly devastating the Hero's lines and even forcing back the Stormpeak raiders.

Then there was no more time to think, because the errants arrived as a wall of steel. Celivia's whip struck uselessly off the shield of one, but she swept his armored leg while the errant was off balance, sending him sliding down the side of the hill.

Behind her, a massive errant loomed over her band's shields, ignoring their futile stabbing attempts and reaching down to wrench away first one shield, then another. Celivia leapt at him, striking his chest with all her momentum.

He went down, but even as he fell, his war hammer struck her in the side. She barely managed to raise her arm in the way and it still sent her skidding across the rocks.

Though she leapt up, ready to do battle with the heavily armored errant, the battlefield had already changed. There were more errants, but also more mansthein reinforcements blocking them. Raiders appeared to be caught between the two, confused and dying against the mansthein line of spears. Yet there was something wrong...

All at once, Celivia realized what it was. The errants with the Hero had worn armor in unfamiliar styles that must be native to Espal and Portant, yet this new group of errants wore bulky Wahleenese armor. They were no allies to the raiders, either, which meant that another force had entered the battlefield.

"Rei!" Celivia screamed across the battlefield, trying to find her friend. Despite the tumult, Reina heard her, turning with both her cleavers covered in blood. She rushed closer in a whirlwind, dispatching two raiders that threatened her band in the process.

"What?" Even closer, Reina still needed to shout over the clamor. "I need to help the Bersk!"

"You need to call them back! They'll die if they go any deeper!" Celivia pointed forward where the Bersk first clashed with the new group of errants. Their rush of violence collapsed against the heavy Wahleenese armor, reinforced by enough sein that even the Bersk seinrage was not immediately lethal. Without that initial shock, they would soon be cut down.

"I..." Reina shook her head violently. "The commanders ordered that charge. They wanted the Bersk to spend themselves in this battle."

"They'll be wasted. Isn't there anything you can do?"

"This might be a mistake, but... thank you, Celivia." Her friend gave her one last smile, then threw herself back across the battle. As she went, she let out a scream and sped up, slicing through the enemy lines to intercept the other Bersk.

Though Celivia had little time to watch, needing to support her band against a particularly resilient raider, she caught glimpses. Reina no longer clapped to bring the Bersk back to themselves, she screamed directly in their faces. Yet her cry seemed to overwhelm theirs, and they began to sweep away into the Hero's forces instead of fighting the errants.

The battle had fractured into multiple fronts, everyone driven mad by the blinding light despite the heavy clouds overhead. Celivia struggled to breathe, to break the chaos around her down into pieces that she could understand. Mansthein, Stormpeaks, Wahleenese errants, the Hero's forces...

And now a new body of raiders emerging over the rise. Nearly all of them wore skulls over their faces: animal, human, and mansthein. As they let out a cry and fell upon the battle, Celivia understood.

After so long holding back, the Skullcrusher clan had joined the war.

~ ~ ~

Mohuno cursed as his sword struggled to leave the body of another mansthein. In single combat he could strike cleanly, but in the chaos of battle their corpses kept trapping his weapon. He might have been taken from the side by another attacking warrior, but Slaten intercepted with that lethal thrust of his.

Just when he thought the battle could not grow any more chaotic, he saw the Skullcrusher clan arrive with a bloodthirsty shout.

They had a fearsome reputation, and their men certainly sprinted toward the battle at a fast pace. His plans to quietly withdraw the Steelbones from the battle to let the Bloodskins take the brunt of it looked increasingly naive. He had known that war would be more intense than raiding, but it had exceeded his expectations.

Some of the mansthein split off to face the Skullcrushers, but others still advanced on them. Mohuno knew that he should not allow himself to be so distracted, yet he struggled to take in the entire battle. Only Tani throwing and retrieving her knives kept his attackers at bay. Together the three of them were a formidable team, but not against what they faced.

It seemed that the Skullcrusher clan would primarily strike the mansthein army, splitting their forces yet again. If they did, that would be good for them, and Mohuno began to consider possible routes for a controlled retreat.

Then he realized that a single man stood between the Skullcrushers and the mansthein lines. This man demanded to be called Deathspawn, his body chiseled from stone with no blood at all, yet his presence knocked Mohuno back a step. It could only be Zeitai Kreue.

As his enemy approached, the Zeitai lifted a pike and a long maul, wielding each with a single hand. When the first of the Skullcrushers reached him, he simply swung the maul and several of them flew backward. He began to advance directly into the charge, swinging both weapons in wide arcs that barely even slowed when they struck bodies. So many Skullcrushers hurtled back into their companions that the Zeitai seemed to cast a wave of violence from him that stopped the charge single-handedly.

Even Tani and Slaten watched now. Though he could hear fighting in the distance, Mohuno realized that most of those nearby could not help but stare. The power on display was so monstrous...

And yet not all were afraid. Another bolt of lightning crackled over the battlefield, targeting the Zeitai and only incidentally slaying raiders. The blue-bearded Stormpeak man began to advance, bloodied but grinning. Across from him, the Zeitai emerged unharmed, swinging his weapons back into position as if preparing for a real fight.

Just when Mohuno thought he could not be any more astonished, he realized that someone was standing in the sky above.

No, not standing. A slender armored figure seemed to hang in the clouds only because the man had leapt so impossibly high. The errant had simply jumped over the entire battlefield as if to face the Zeitai, and Mohuno realized that he was not the only one who noticed. With another grin, the Stormpeak warrior spat lightning skyward to intercept the soaring errant.

Yet the armored figure dropped from the sky, not as the lightning struck, but an instant before. He slammed to the ground amid the Skullcrushers, the impact alone scattering more bodies.

Mohuno took a deep, shuddering breath as he realized that the Skullcrusher clan had essentially been wiped out in heartbeats. Only because they stood between those three warriors who towered so high above all others. He had never felt so small as in that moment.

Then a cloak swept in front of him and suddenly Slaten was furiously fighting a mansthein in front of them. Clawing his way back to relevance, Mohuno raised his sword, but he was too late. Tani struck the warrior attacking Slaten and sent her knives sweeping out at several others, earning them a brief space to think.

"Stay with us, Mohuno." She shot him a grim glance, and somehow that did more to bring him back to himself than everything else. He nodded and forced himself to grip his sword properly.

"We need to pull back. The only winners of this battle will be those who do not fight."

Though Tani nodded in agreement, Slaten gestured past their main lines, where the group Melal had sent in the first charge had been surrounded. Mohuno started to step toward it but immediately knew that it was hopeless. In the chaos, the Bloodskins ignored enemy errants, unable to tell the difference, and were cut down. Some even fell into a frenzy and attacked other raiders.

At the heart of the brawl Hogowo lashed out with his fists, but he was covered in blood. Even as Mohuno watched, he heard a scream and saw a rabid charge of smaller Deathspawn swarm over the group, hacking them to pieces.

"He's right," Tani said. "We need to save everyone we can and retreat."

Just as they began to do so, Mohuno saw a bright sword shine over the battlefield. When the Hero called for a charge, he heard it in his soul.

~ ~ ~

Though Tani might have called the charge courageous, as she watched the warriors stream after Melal, she realized that was wrong. Courage was forged despite fear, while the light in their eyes denied that fear existed.

It was madness. The masters on the battlefield fought as only the Four Winds might, threatening everyone near them by their presence alone. Bolts of lightning deflected into the crowds and boulders were dislodged like mere pebbles as they fought. Melal might not be leading the charge directly against the Zeitai, but taking anyone near the heart of the violence was suicidal.

She should have remained with Slaten and Mohuno, supported by their strength. Yet as Melal gathered the others around him, she saw an old man she recognized. Cantyan's helmet had been knocked from his head and his white hair was stained by blood, yet the light in his eyes...

Her only hope was to stop him before it began. Melal gathered his forces atop another hill, so she just might be able to reach him in time. Yet as she started to run, Mohuno and Slaten immediately kept pace with her.

"What are you doing?" Mohuno reached out to grab her arm and only just held back.

"Everyone who joins him will die!" Tani thrust a hand out to the glowing warriors of light. "Cantyan... he doesn't deserve this..."

Mohuno stared in disbelief. "You're going to risk your life for one old man who wants to throw his life away?"

"I have to try!"

Even Slaten appeared skeptical, but he remained beside her. Mohuno's frustration dissolved as he stared at the heroic light before them, then he stumbled to a halt. She saw him begin to turn back, clenching his fists as he tried not to be drawn in...

Thunder shattered her world and Tani regained awareness crashing into a hill. The strike must not have reached her, because she was untouched, but she saw warriors scattered all around her. Ears ringing, she pulled herself to her feet looking for her allies, only to find no one.

Except for Cantyan, beginning to join the Hero as they rushed into battle. Tani ran and tackled him before the charge began. To her surprise, he struggled against her as if she were an enemy, throwing her back as he staggered to his feet. She hooked the back of his leg and brought him back down.

"What are you doing, girl?" His eyes were filled not with light, but pain. "This is why I'm here! This is all the purpose I have left!"

"That isn't true." Yet though Tani said the words, she wasn't sure if she believed them. As the Hero began to charge, the old man wept.

~ ~ ~

As soon as masters had begun stepping onto the battlefield, Celivia had ordered all mansthein near her to retreat. Many were not even part of her band, yet they obeyed her. Judging from the fear in their eyes, they might have fled without any command at all.

Yet in searching for stragglers, she had become separated from the mansthein lines. A raider rushed her from one side, and though her knife to his chest barely slowed him, she used it to hurl him into another enemy. The next moment an errant struck at her from behind and she barely ducked out of the way.

Celivia spun, lashing out with her whip. It curled around the errant's leg, but she realized the next moment that she had made a mistake. The blades of her whip could not penetrate the armor, and the errant could well be stronger than her. She should have released her whip, but the errant moved their leg so swiftly that Celivia found herself stumbling toward them.

Ghalia swept from the side, her axe connecting with the errant's breastplate. Even her great strength could not cut through the metal, but the impact knocked them from their feet. Ghalia swung overhead and this time blunted her sein, the blow crumpling the errant's breastplate. Man or woman, they were dead.

"We need to get back." Ghalia grabbed her and started to pull her away. "Kreue is no Xetsu, but he's still a Zeitai. The best we can do is step out of his way."

Though Ghalia spoke sense, Celivia found herself staring at the battlefield despite all logic. She had seen a Stormpeak warrior earlier, yet now there was no sign of him. Instead the Steelmaster faced Kreue alone, neither warrior apparently touched by the battle that had torn apart the ground between them. When Ghalia pulled her to a ridge, they dropped behind it for safety.

"Why is Wahleen interfering with our battle?" Kreue slammed the butts of both his weapons down against the ground. "This has naught to do with you."

"You wage war along our border, send raiders spilling into the desert, and undo the balance." The errant spoke with a woman's voice, surprisingly deep for the slender frame. "The council has determined that you are a Steelmaster going into battle against those ranks below you. It is only right that you be balanced by your equal."

"Your laws are nothing to me!" Though Kreue shouted, he didn't strike down his opponent as he would have anyone else. "Do you want us to wage war on Wahleen next?"

"If you withdraw, we will retreat as well. Not only myself, but all of our soldiers."

"Fools! Why are you defending the Sage?"

"It is the council's decision." The errant raised both fists and struck them together, beginning to step forward. "I only execute their will."

"Then they have sent you to die!"

The two clashed, nearly as swift as the battle between Xetsu and the Master of the Red Sun. This time, it ended abruptly with the human ejected from the flurry. She plowed through the earth, but her armor had not buckled and she rose to her feet even before she stopped sliding.

And somehow a man stood behind Kreue with a war scythe at his throat.

It had been years since Celivia had been so baffled. She was accustomed to seeing warriors move at incredible speeds. Arts that hid a warrior from sight were rare, but far from impossible. There had been no rush of wind as with voidwalking. The man simply existed where there had been no one before.

"And who are you?" Though Kreue sneered, he also stood very still, keeping his neck away from the scythe's blade.

"I am the Benighted Fool of Espal. Pleased to make your acquaintance." The thin man looked nothing like an errant, wearing a purple cloak with many tails instead of armor. He was thin and clean-shaven where most northern men were muscular and bearded. Something about his smile...

"This is not your fight!" The Wahleenese errant took a step forward, gauntlets balling into fists. "The scales are balanced, one Steelmaster to another!"

"Balance is overrated. You errants have always needed someone to remind you of that."

"Enough!" Kreue swung the back end of his maul at the man behind him in a blow that would have taken many. The Benighted Fool's body contorted impossibly so that he flowed around it like water, dancing to the side as Kreue moved and keeping his scythe at the Zeitai's neck.

After the fierce movement, nothing had changed. Kreue grimaced and lowered his weapons again. "You want us to withdraw and allow our lessers to fight this battle? Is that your demand?"

"If you do," the slim errant said, "the council of Wahleen will agree to new negotiations."

The Fool raised his eyebrows. "My, my, that is quite a tale to bring back home..."

"Silence!"

"Yes," Kreue agreed, "you talk too much. Try to cut my throat or stop posturing."

"If you insist." The Fool withdrew with a laugh, spinning his war scythe over his head and then behind his back. "But there is another weapon at your throat: it is said that the Sage is defended by a man named Aganomu, the greatest warrior the Sotunn raiders have ever produced. Even the greatest in Espal acknowledge him as a Steelmaster. How confident are you, Zeitai?"

For a time there was silence. The pressure between the three left Celivia barely able to breathe, but finally it broke as Kreue cursed. He shifted both weapons to one hand and reached to his waist with the other. A crack rang across the battlefield, then he disappeared in a rush of air.

It took time for Celivia to understand because it was so simple: a Zeitai had abandoned the battlefield with a voidlink, just like any other warrior might retreat. Beside her, Celivia heard Ghalia growl out a curse.

In the remaining silence, the Fool and the errant reluctantly bowed to one another, then walked in opposite directions. Behind them, the battle raged on and a shining light broke over the field.

~ ~ ~

Though Laeri was supposed to stay back when Melal called for them to charge, she was somehow running along with the others, caught up in the rush of it. She had held back for so long, not watching the battle in order to prepare to save those who were injured. Yet now she found herself racing alongside the Hero as they struck into the chaos.

Why was she here? Laeri faltered and nearly ran back, but she told herself that she could be brave. She needed to be, for Melal's sake.

Just as she started to run after him, an enormous hand caught her shoulder. Laeri cried out as she was physically dragged backward, away from the charge she desperately needed to join. The sight of Melal dwindling further and further away pained her so much that she only realized who had grabbed her when he growled out an order.

"Hold back! Back, dammit! This is suicide!" Chief Bufogu screamed his orders to the Bloodskins, over and over. Some of them listened and held back, but how could they? Melal had called on them to join the battle, so how could they simply stand back and do nothing?

Far ahead, she saw Melal and his warriors hit the side of the chaotic lines. Deathspawn flinched from them, already shocked by the battle and unable to face rested warriors. Laeri's heart leapt as she saw them cut down the enemy, and she even saw that he had not been abandoned by all the Bloodskins. Gatoda whirled at his side, his axe flashing gloriously as he fought better than ever before.

Then a blade hacked deep into his arm and he screamed and there was nothing glorious at all and Laeri heard herself let out a cry that was consumed by everything else.

Laeri struggled, but one of the Bloodskins was pulling her back. All of those who had held back were forcing the others to join them. She desperately wanted to help the Hero, still watching his shining blade rise and fall. Couldn't they see that the Hero needed their help?

Beside her, Bufogu smiled grimly. Laeri realized with horror that he understood and he wanted this. This awful, awful man had slaughtered all those poor civilians and now he left the Hero to die, and she could do nothing.

Yet in the distance, Melal's sword only shone brighter. Unlike the terrible confusion of the past, Laeri realized that the hope in her heart had not faltered. She watched in awe as Melal and the chosen warriors around him simply continued fighting, refusing to accept that anyone could stand against them. Gatoda and many others fell, yet in the end they stood victorious, Deathspawn fleeing in all directions.

"Damn." Bufogu gestured roughly to his men. "Then we support the flank and help kill the stragglers. Just because..."

His words trailed off and Laeri realized that there was a Bloodskin woman standing nearby. No, not a Bloodskin, because she felt like a warrior. When she smiled, her teeth had been stained a terrible shade of blue. Fear joined the hope in Laeri's heart.

Two Bloodskins swung at the Stormpeak warrior, but she stepped past them. Her hands were a blur and Laeri didn't understand what she did, yet both men fell backward, their skin torn to shreds. The woman grinned more broadly and took another step forward.

Bufogu struck with terrible speed, his movement knocking Laeri to the ground. When she struggled up, she saw both warriors covered in blood. Though Bufogu's axe appeared to have partially severed the woman's arm, Laeri could only see his back and didn't understand how he could be covered in so much blood.

Patule rushed to join them, striking at the Stormpeak and finally driving her away, cradling her arm. Chief Bufogu remained in place, apparently frozen in the moment of victory.

Until he collapsed backward. Laeri gasped as she saw that the entire front side of his body had been torn open in countless places, in some locations merely his skin torn away and in others gashes dug deep into his body. The wounds seemed to horrify even the Bloodskins, who stumbled without a leader. Patule could have led them, but he ran further, driving away other enemies.

"We..." Laeri was surprised to hear her own voice, but perhaps some of the Hero's light still flickered in her after all. "The battle is over, so the time for healing has begun. Pick up Chief Bufogu and anyone else who is still alive so we can treat them at a safe distance."

Where were all these words coming from? Beyond that, why were the men of the Bloodskin clan actually listening to her? Something warm pulsed within her, leaving Laeri's mind floating about it like a thin outer cloak.

She no longer felt herself, and she was happy.

~ ~ ~

Despite the chaos of the battle, Slaten had yet to exhaust himself. He had always held back, ready for a warrior to throw himself against. Again and again, he found himself only engaging his opponents briefly instead of fighting to the death. Though he had tried to spend his strength saving his allies, somehow he had stumbled out of the battle almost entirely uninjured, only having lost one of his swords in the confusion.

It seemed so miraculous that he looked for Melal, but the Hero's group had separated from the Steelbones near the beginning. Now he was separated from them as well, disoriented on the battlefield. He knew that he should have been able to navigate by looking to Mount Tmil, yet his mind and body refused to speak to one another.

The fact that he still lived felt deeply unfair. He had fought cautiously and never joined any of the suicidal charges into the fray, yet that hadn't mattered for so many others. Warriors stronger than him had been killed in the clash between the masters that had become the heart of the battle.

In his numbness, Slaten nearly stumbled into the Catai.

As he stared blankly at the hulking figure, he realized that it was a woman. It seemed a curious little fact that his mind refused to let go, even though it didn't matter. She towered over him like any other Catai and her axe could kill him just the same.

"You don't look like the raiders." The Catai shrugged her axe off her shoulder and grasped it in both hands. "Well, I bet you'll die the same way."

Slaten drew his sword, her threat instantly cutting away everything else. There was no violence, no glory, no loss, only the cold truth of what he faced.

As the axe swiped at him, Slaten took a step back and deflected it, buying time. The impact sent made him taste blood so strongly that he smelled and felt it in his mouth. This Catai was powerful, and even if the battle had worn her, a prolonged fight was hopeless. His only hope was to spend as much of himself as he could in a few heartbeats and end the battle early.

Two more times the axe cut out at him and he continued giving way. The Catai gritted her monstrous teeth, visibly growing frustrated. He could use that. Her combat instincts were excellent, but she was impatient and likely used to overpowering her opponents.

When the axe came forward again, Slaten feigned that he would continue retreating. Just as he saw the Catai's muscles respond, Slaten instead stepped in, everything falling into his practiced pattern. In a single smooth movement, he released a burst of sein from each of his hands as they left his blade and flipped it into position for a hammer stroke.

In swift succession, the Catai was struck with two bursts of sein, then his pommel hit her stomach with everything he had left.

Her axe fell to the ground and she staggered backward, clutching her stomach. He had done exactly what he had intended, yet it wasn't enough. If his blow had knocked her down, he might have finished it, but the pain he had inflicted wasn't sufficient to disable her.

"Fuck... fuck, that hurts." The Catai straightened, one hand still on her stomach. "So many warriors strike me, and damned masters destroy entire companies, and I get injured by a scrawny swordsman."

Recognizing his own thoughts in her, Slaten almost smiled. But then the Catai lunged in, striking his arms before he could bring his sword into position and wrapping her enormous hand around his neck. He knew he should struggle, but he'd pushed so much of himself into that stroke, he only felt the pressure as she began to squeeze...

"Ghali, wait!"

At first he didn't believe what he could be hearing, yet the pressure on his neck vanished. He stumbled and barely stayed on his feet. When he managed to focus, his eyes struggled to believe that it was actually Celivia. She wasn't looking at him, instead turning toward the Catai.

"I told you," Celivia said, "this is one of the ones I wanted to save."

"How was I supposed to connect that description so long ago to this random human?" The Catai grimaced and clutched her stomach again. "Fuck, I'm going to be pissing blood unless we get a healer down here. You pick strange humans, Celi."

"I suppose so." Celivia finally turned to him, an odd smile on her face before it faded. Despite everything, Slaten found himself relieved to see her as well. Not merely because she had saved his life, but because he had feared they would never again stand across from each other as they had in Keep Aryabaus.

But this time, he was the one outnumbered. In addition to the Catai, Slaten saw that a group of battered mansthein soldiers followed Celivia. He recognized none of them except the short woman, who seemed to be wearing nothing but a tattered robe and two bloody cleavers. Her bloodshot eyes and empty stare suggested that the battle had been even more horrifying for her than the rest of them.

"I'm glad to see you again, Slaten. But this time, I suggest that you surrender."

"That seems quite reasonable," Slaten said, and collapsed.

~ ~ ~

Mount Tmil loomed in the distance, just as far away as before even though the day had taken her across the bloody field. Tani stared at it bitterly as she moved between the corpses, searching for survivors. She had confirmed that Mohuno had survived the last chaotic rush and ordered him to stay with Laeri and the others.

Cantyan remained with the other errants, keeping her away with the force of his bitterness. He had watched most of Melal's men die in battle and saw only the glory of it. For a moment she wondered if she had been selfish, if she had saved him only because she did not want to see him die. The decision was as irrevocable as every time she'd chosen to kill.

They had retreated to a safe distance and the mansthein army had also drawn back to lick its wounds. Yet both forces remained within a day of one another, held back only by the memory of the bloody carnage. Fragments of raider clans wandered through the hills, some looking for targets and some simply seinshocked. It had been a horrifying battle, even after all those she had seen, and she did not want the horror to be worsened by any simple accidents.

And so she left the others to defend and searched. Slaten had been torn from them when the masters began to do battle and the entire field had shifted in a moment. He had been uninjured then and Tani desperately hoped that he was alive, but she had yet to find him.

Instead she came upon Melal, staring skyward with his sword held loosely in one hand. It shone brightly, untouched by the blood. Around him lay bodies of raiders, mansthein, and errants. The Hero smiled.

"We have nearly won the war, Tani. The Zeitai has retreated and only part of the Deathspawn army remains."

"Do you intend to fight them?" Her voice sounded wrong to her own ears. Melal slowly shook his head.

"I wish to wipe them all from our world, but I recognize that some of our allies are weak. But you are not, Tani. You have survived another battle as my companion. This time, you must join me as we climb Mount Tmil and speak to the Sage. Our place in the Legend will soon be revealed."

"Slaten is still out there." Tani forced her eyes away from Melal's gaze and turned her back on him. "I need to find him."

"Do not fear. If he is meant to join us, he will survive. It is the same with Veron. Whether they live or die, the Legend will proceed all the same."

Tani stopped listening and focused on her search.

Chapter 49

-

"No matter what the Wooden Judges say, Catai should be treated as Steeljudges. They are not human, so why should they have human ranks? It is the differences between specialist Paths made more dramatic. Absurd as it might seem, we have records of Peak Ironlords defeating Catai and of Greater Steeljudges being defeated by them. Ranks beyond that, such as the mansthein Zeitai, are beyond this errant's ability to judge."

- Wahleenese treatise on mansthein ranks

-

With the battle over, so much rested on Laeri's shoulders that she wanted to cry, yet her eyes refused. She simply shuffled from person to person, doing what she could to heal them. Fortunately Nolise had survived and helped her, and Natala had sent some of the women they had trained to assist as well.

Her task was not as horrible as she had feared only because the battle itself had taken all the horror. Normally after such chaotic fighting, there should have been countless wounded, so many that Laeri would need to begin the most terrible of calculations: the greatest number she could save with the least sein, abandoning others to die. But the fighting had left more dead than wounded, as if they had spent their very lives in the battle.

So Laeri simply tried to help everyone without exhausting herself, her task growing easier with each day they retreated. When she finished another patient, she again tried to move toward the main building. It was only a house in a conquered Bloodskin village, but Chief Bufogu lay within it. There was one wounded man who desperately needed her help...

"No further, lowlander." An axe moved into her path, forcing her back. She saw Patule glowering at her and shrank back. "This has nothing to do with you."

"Don't be a fool, Patule." Another Bloodskin emerged from the house, one Laeri thought was named Denugo. "You've seen the chieftain's wounds. They aren't healing fast enough."

"A Bloodskin lives or dies on his own strength. Or do you not respect your chieftain's blood?"

"After everything we saw, can you still say that? The Deathspawn, the errants, the Stormpeaks... they don't respect our blood. Let the girl help him."

Patule frowned again, and Laeri wanted to tell him that he lived only because of her healing. Or would that only make him angrier with her? Was he angry because he knew that? Before she could sort through all her questions, Patule turned to her.

"Could your tricks save Bufogu?"

"I... I can't be sure." Laeri gripped her staff tighter and tried not to flinch as both Bloodskin men loomed over her. "His injuries after the battle were very serious. It would... depend on how deep they went, and how much he has recovered..."

"You see? Even the girl doesn't know if she can help."

Denugo began to argue with him, but Patule glowered at her again and Laeri retreated. Just as it had been yesterday, and the day before that. It hurt her to think that someone was dying when she had sein to spare and might have been able to save him. Yet... it was Chief Bufogu...

Just as Laeri began to falter, she saw Natala walking through the village. Many of the women from scattered tribes gathered around her and she spoke to them. Usually her words encouraged them, but this day Laeri saw many of the women leave unhappy. When Natala approached she had a grim expression as well, but she visibly struggled to smile and rubbed Laeri on the back.

"Are you well, Laeri?"

"I only wish they would let me lend my healing... but what about you?" Laeri clasped the other woman's arm and tried to smile back. "You've been so busy, I thought it was going well. Is something wrong?"

"Oh, did you notice? I had not wanted to burden you..." Natala lowered her gaze, but when Laeri patted her arm encouragingly, she continued on. "The trouble is with the women of all the destroyed tribes. The Bloodskins and the others who survived will divide them like spoils."

Laeri sighed. "I know. It's horrible, isn't it? I tried to speak to Melal, but he only cares about the Sage these days..."

"Some of the errants who fought with Melal intend to go home now. I wanted to see if they would take some of the women with them, and I negotiated an agreement, but the strongest Bloodskin men refuse to allow it." Natala's eyes flashed with an anger that Laeri rarely saw. "Everything is set in place, but it cannot go forward simply because I lack strength."

"That is terrible, but can I help? They certainly won't listen to me."

"Do you think Chief Bufogu would assist us? If I helped you sneak inside to heal him, do you think he would agree to my proposal?"

"Oh! I've been looking for a way inside... but..." Laeri's face fell as she considered the question and remembered the axe cutting into flesh. "No, I don't think Bufogu would allow it. He... isn't the kindest man..."

"Can anything be done, Laeri?" Natala turned to her with a deep concern in her eyes. For a time Laeri despaired, then a thought sent new hope flowing through her.

"Do you know Mohuno?"

"The Steelbone clan leader? What about him?"

"He's much more understanding than Bufogu. Even Tani likes him! I don't think he's as strong as some of the others, but his clan is powerful and growing. They protect people from many different tribes, so maybe he would be willing to help you?"

Natala smiled in relief. "Can you take me to him?"

Laeri beamed back and took the other woman's hand, guiding her through the scattered camp. Strangely, Natala didn't seem to need the guidance, almost as if she knew the way. Still, she smiled back whenever Laeri smiled at her, and soon they had reached the Steelbones encampment. The warriors there didn't treat her like an intruder her the way the Bloodskins did, so Laeri always breathed easier there.

Soon she spotted Mohuno working with one of his men. He straightened and trotted over to them. "Hello, Laeri. Is there any news of Tani?"

"I'm sorry, Mohuno, there isn't. I think she's still looking for Slaten."

"If he hasn't been found by now, he's probably dead." Mohuno saw her flinch and his eyes softened. "I'm sorry. I hope both of them are still alive. Why did you want to speak to me?"

"Oh, ah... have you met Natala? This is, um, her." Laeri moved to the side and gestured to Natala, who bowed gracefully. Mohuno gave her a hard look, his eyes always sucking everything in. Laeri didn't understand how Tani didn't find him scary.

"I don't believe I have. You are one of the Bloodskins?"

Natala lowered her head again. "I am."

"I trust that Laeri did not introduce us for the pleasure of our company."

Though Natala hesitated, Laeri nudged her encouragingly, and eventually the other women spoke. "You've likely seen how many women remain from broken clans."

"I've noticed." Mohuno's gaze left them and slid over the mountains. "Nearly all the Skullcrusher men were killed as well, and only we and the Stormpeaks know that their village lies undefended. I thought that perhaps the Steelbones should offer them an invitation."

"You could, but that would be too large a number of women, even if your clan endured this."

"Oh, I disagree. We need more, because not all women are as attractive as you." Mohuno briefly grinned at her, then twitched as if something pained him. Though Laeri searched for some injury, she didn't find one before he spoke in a harsher voice. "But you're right. Why did you bring this up?"

"I have an agreement with the errants to transport some of the survivors back to their lands, and more than enough volunteers. But without the defense of a clan, it will never work."

"Why should I stick my neck out for you? Just so you can take resources away to the north, never to be seen again?"

"Because you need an alliance with the errants." Natala smiled and Laeri felt a spark of joy as she realized the other woman's cleverness. "I spoke with some of your men, and it seems that you are struggling to organize trade with them. Beginning with an agreement here would be a good start, would it not?"

Mohuno's eyebrows shot up and he regarded Natala in an entirely different way. Though they weren't being very friendly, Laeri thought that they both had good ideas and it seemed they could talk to each other. She pulled their hands together and patted the top of both before speaking.

"I hope you can find some way to help more people. All I can do is help those who are injured, so I should take my leave."

Natala gave her a grateful smile and Mohuno simply nodded, his thoughts obviously elsewhere. Leaving them to their planning, Laeri returned to the main camp. It had not been so long since she had checked the injured, but it never hurt to be more dutiful. No matter how many times she expunged infection, the poor condition of the camp allowed it to flare to life again. She could try to clean the tents for the injured, but nothing could clear the foul air drifting from the battlefield.

Yet as she walked back, Laeri knew that she was only forcing herself to remain busy. The one injury in the camp that truly needed her help was Chief Bufogu, and she was still not permitted to see him. She tried to tell herself that perhaps it was the Legend's will that he remained injured at first. After all, if he had been awake, he probably would have prevented Natala and Mohuno from helping the surviving women.

"Laeri, it's time to go."

The voice made her jump and she whirled to find Melal. Not only Melal, but Veron! Laeri rushed to embrace the older woman, but she affectionately patted Laeri on the face instead. When Laeri pulled back she couldn't help but beam at them. "Veron! I didn't know you had arrived!"

"Too late, this time." Veron glanced around the camp sourly. "And I didn't find what I wanted."

"It doesn't matter." Melal waved for both of them to be silent and Laeri realized just how somber he looked. "We may not have the seal, but the Legend still calls us to Mount Tmil. It is... not the path I had wanted, but it is the path forward. We leave tonight."

"Tonight?" Laeri yelped the word at the same time Veron cursed it. "But... there are still so many injured!"

Melal's gaze finally turned to her, staring as if she spoke a foreign language. It seemed to take him several heartbeats to even understand what she said, then he shook his head. "The wounded have served their purpose, forging the way to Mount Tmil. Now we need to slay the remaining Deathspawn and climb to the peak to meet with the Sage."

"Don't we need everyone for that?" Veron asked. "I don't see Tani or Slaten."

"They stand closer to Mount Tmil than we do. We travel east and the Legend will lead them to join us."

Resolutely as Melal had spoken, Laeri and Veron managed to convince him to give them another day to prepare. Or rather, Veron cursed and argued while Laeri pleaded with her eyes. When he eventually relented, he stalked out of camp to sit on the eastern edge, staring at the mountain peak.

If it was finally the proper time, what would the Sage tell them? As Laeri walked back into the camp, she wondered if hearing his destiny would finally give Melal all the purpose he needed. Or did he have to find the seal for that? It was all too confusing, so she set the matter aside and focused on what little she could control.

When she returned to the house, she had braced herself for another argument. But to her surprise, Patule no longer barred her way so cruelly. Instead he merely stood back, watching everything. Denugo stepped forward and grabbed her arm, smiling but pulling her into the house roughly.

"You have one day, girl. Can you heal Bufogu?"

"Oh! Thank you for letting me try!" Laeri went with him willingly, but when she saw the chieftain she gasped.

He lay atop blood-encrusted furs, his body still a horrible mess. The torn skin on his shins and face had mostly healed in the Bloodskin way, but the rest festered with open wounds. Laeri sank to her knees beside him, her eyes slowly sweeping over the shredded muscles of his arms, the visible ribs, and the tangled mess of his stomach. In places he was more pus and rot than man.

A normal man would have been long dead, but Bufogu still clung to life. Yet she realized that his breathing came shallowly, and his sein had begun to falter. His body attempted to fight all the injuries as well as the infection at the same time, and it was not equal to the task.

Could she heal him? Fearsome as his injuries appeared, she was well-suited to the task. Driving out the infection and closing his wounds would be difficult, but she could complete the work without exhausting herself. The true challenge would be his stomach and everything that had been torn within. She lacked the skill for a complex healing, but if she repaired the damaged flesh, surely his body could restore the rest.

And yet as Laeri raised her hands to his body, she found herself hesitating. Even in sleep, his face looked cruel. She remembered him letting Melal charge ahead into danger, remembered how coldly he had cut apart his prisoners.

The thought horrified her, and Laeri tried to send her sein out through her hands, but she could no longer connect with herself and her power faltered. For the first time since she had been a young trainee, her mind and her sein were not in accord.

If she healed Bufogu, would he order the death of more innocents? Would he stop Natala and Mohuno from helping the survivors? Laeri clenched her eyes so as not to look at his face, trying to remember everything she had pledged. Her task was to fight for life, not to decide who lived or died. It was her solemn duty to heal him if it was at all within her power.

"Well?" Denugo loomed in her face, startling her as he growled out the words. "Can you heal him or not?"

"I... I'm sorry, I can't."

Guilt lanced through Laeri's heart the instant the words left her mouth. Tears in her eyes, she tried to take them back, but her throat filled with her jagged thoughts. Before she could say anything, Patule grabbed her by the arm and dragged her from the room, muttering about useless lowlanders.

Laeri stood outside the house, staring at nothing. She could have turned back and pushed her way in, healing the injured chieftain as she should. Instead, she lowered her eyes and shuffled toward the wounded.

Chapter 50

-

"The original Tale of Emdore and Emlioon is a brief story, told in the repetitive style of its era. Most readers are more familiar with the Saga of Emdore and Emlioon that expands upon their tale, amending many notable omissions, such as having the principal characters speak to one another before truly falling in love, and giving detail of their errant rankings during the war. It is exceedingly unlikely that this tale was based on any historical source, so much should be made of the fact that in some variants the two return to Espal or Wahleen while in others they die together in battle. The original endings where the two leave Breilin have endured mostly in the most maudlin of variants, designed to appeal to the base emotions."

- commentary on The Tale of Emdore and Emlioon

-

As she sat by the fire, Celivia continued to chew through the half-rotten meat. She barely noticed the taste anymore, and when scorched enough, it even tasted good. Not because of the meat itself, but the luck that had brought Slaten back to her. Though she currently sat with her band, she was thinking about the next time she could talk to him.

"You shouldn't have to eat that, Celivia." Krafan shook his head with a look of disgust. "You deserve better."

"But the supply chain is running out of food," Celivia said. "I don't mind. It's better than all of you shitting yourselves."

A few laughed, but she noted that Fijn frowned as he sat forward. "Why would we be running out of food? We lost half our forces in that battle... if we hadn't, would we be starving now?"

It would have been better if he didn't say such things out loud in front of the others, but since it was too late, Celivia only shrugged. "You know how generals make decisions. They knew that many of us would die in the battle and so they planned for less food. If we're running out, that just means we survived better than they expected."

"Because we're stronger!" Big Ragh thumped his chest with a grin. "Our training is paying off!"

Their limited strength in sein had made no difference at all in that hellish battle - if anything had increased their chances of survival, it had been simple discipline. Yet as the others celebrated over their remaining beer, Celivia couldn't accept any victory. Her band had survived - even Splinters, unfortunately - but Brifik still sat in drunken shock. And the battle had accomplished nothing.

"What's our current assignment, Kaen?" Ghasfik started to say more, but Huthur threw a pebble at his head.

"We survive that battle and the next day you're hungry for more?"

Ghasfik refused to budge despite the groans from the others. "We need to know. Do our commanders consider that a victory or a defeat? Will they call us back to Sotfaal? Station us in Wahleen? Or are we being thrown against the humans again?"

Seeing that her second got through to the others, Celivia realized that now was the time to tell them. "Our official orders are that we continue marching on Mount Tmil, but after being bloodied like this, they have second thoughts. I overheard the Zeitai speaking with the other masters and it seems all of them will withdraw from the field. If that leaves a human master defending the target, then the battle might be unwinnable."

"Zeitai Kreue?" Puga spoke with a tone of awe and Celivia realized how casually she had mentioned him. She tried to wave it aside, though she reflected on how strange her life had become.

"He defended us from the last ambush, but it seems the humans want to stop his war. I don't know why, or what will come of it."

"Speaking of humans... why that one? Is he really a valuable captive?"

Celivia hesitated, uncertain how to answer that question. She was saved when Ghalia walked up to their camp with a broad grin. When the band turned to look at her, she simply continued grinning, waiting for someone to ask. Big Ragh beat Celivia to it. "Are you healed, Catainan?"

"Better than ever!" Ghalia struck her own stomach with a resounding thump. "The healer they have in the main camp... damn, he's good with his hands. Never had an internal injury healed that well."

Usually Ghalia sat with the others, and the band was clearly eager to talk to her about the battle, but that day she moved on. Celivia noted that she was moving to the small cluster of trees where Slaten was kept and it bothered her more than she expected. She sat for a while longer before finding an excuse and following.

On the way, she passed Reina, sitting apart from the others and sharpening the nicks from her cleavers. "Rei, is everything fine with Slaten?"

"I still think you should have bound him," Reina said, "but the human has been honorable. You may want to protect him from Ghalia." She looked back down to her work. Though her efforts had saved many Bersk lives during the battle, it was only a fraction of their company and Reina's mood would be vicious for days.

Celivia had placed Slaten away from the others for his own protection. He wore a metal collar with a chain attached to a tree, but the collar wasn't locked. Though she was within her rights to take prisoners, if other mansthein wanted revenge and decided otherwise, she wanted him to be able to defend himself. So far they had been left alone on the edge of the mansthein camp.

As she drew closer, Celivia found herself stepping silently and avoiding a direct line of sight. She hadn't intended it, but instead of following Ghalia, she slipped to the other side of a tree and observed quietly.

Slaten sat with his legs straight in front of him, apparently imprisoned but delving into his own sein. Before he looked up, she saw the fire of his sein. At first she thought it was an empty sphere of many flames, some red and some so dark blue they were almost black. Then she realized that within the shell burned a completely clear flame.

That fire shifted as he focused on Ghalia instead. The Catai walked directly in front of him and leaned against the tree at his back so that she filled his vision.

"That was quite a blow. It took an elite healer to get me back into shape." She spoke Coran, which was fortunate because Celivia preferred not to hear Slaten's broken Futhik.

"I apologize," Slaten said, "but you were attempting to kill me at the time."

Ghalia laughed and thumped the tree with her fist. "I don't want an apology from you, human! For a start, I want to know what that technique was. Not the little wind you threw in my eyes, the blow with the pommel."

"It is called a hammer stroke. It repurposes the way I inhabit the blade with my sein to deal a blunt strike, as I didn't think I could cut your skin." From her position Celivia could see Slaten relax slightly as he discussed the technique. He tensed again when Ghalia leaned nearer.

"Ha, wise man! You didn't have a chance, but you're the first man here with the balls to try something like that." Ghalia bent down, one massive knee hitting the ground between Slaten's legs. At once a threat and a proposition. "You left an impression on my guts with a steel sword. You want to try with a different one?"

Judging from the way Slaten shifted back, Ghalia must have been pushing her knee further up between his legs. Celivia knew that she should step out and say something, but waited to hear what Slaten would say. She didn't truly believe that he would be taken in by Ghalia's aggressive sexuality, yet...

Slaten's response was quiet. "I don't think that elite healer of yours would fix a human's shattered hips."

Though Ghalia laughed again, she didn't back away. Celivia pushed herself off the tree and finally approached. "Don't commit war crimes, Ghali."

"He wouldn't have thought it was crime." Ghalia grinned a challenge, but she did rise back to her feet. "Your loss, human. Now Celi, don't you commit any war crimes either."

Ghalia left the trees quickly, long strides taking her to the campfire. Celivia could hear her greeting the band and beginning a loud story, but it came distantly as she watched Slaten. He was always difficult to read, and at the moment she had no idea what was thinking. Part of her wanted to apologize, yet it felt hollow given the circumstances.

"Is that her real personality," Slaten asked, "or does she act that way to make soldiers accept her?"

The relief that flooded through Celivia shocked her. Ghalia might be able to earn the band's respect by sheer force, but that would never work on Slaten. Since they had last met, his sharp edges appeared to have sharpened further and she found herself minding not at all.

"It's some of both." Celivia sat down with her back to the same tree, just far enough away that their shoulders didn't touch. "You observed that rather quickly."

"Your soldiers are loud. I may not be fluent in Futhik, and some of their words are strange, but I've had no choice but to listen." Though he still spoke quietly, Slaten was smiling now. She wasn't sure if he could see her face and found herself smiling too.

"Leading a band isn't what I wanted, but since they wouldn't make me a Catai, this was the only path forward."

"Toward what?"

"Toward preventing more meaningless battles like that one." Though Celivia longed to talk to him about so many other things, she recognized that their central problem still stood between them. "Did any of this matter? Do you know if this Sage actually has anything to do with the Legend?"

Slaten was silent for some time, then spoke even more quietly. "I can tell you that when I met him, I felt the Legend in a different way than I did with the Hero." He proceeded to tell her about their meeting, and though Celivia suspected that he withheld information, she didn't press. After all, he was voluntarily giving her critical information when he knew that she might not use it for his best interest. In return, she freely told him her thoughts on whether the army would continue.

When they finished, they were silent for a time. Celivia turned all the new facts over in her mind and uncovered a question she hadn't intended. "Do you think the Zeitai are simply mansthein Heroes?"

"Ah." Slaten finally looked at her, clear human eyes piercing. "That is an interesting question. Why do you ask?"

"Because the effect of the Hero is unequal. It seems to overwhelm humans and force them to his cause, but for us, it produces only rage and hatred. Most mansthein are encouraged by the Zeitai, but humans fear them, do they not?"

"I am not certain that it is different than the fear of any master warrior. I have not met enough of them to be sure. But you said 'most mansthein' - do you feel an overwhelming hope in the presence of the Zeitai?"

"I certainly feel their presence." Celivia bit her lip, thinking of Kreue. She wanted to tell Slaten what she had seen in the pits, but couldn't know if he would understand. "Zeitai Kreue is a cruel man and the mansthein would be better off without him. But none of us are capable of stopping him now, not even Melal."

"I don't know what the right thing to do is now." Slaten pulled his sword from where it was hidden amid a pile of leaves and laid it across his lap. "Would meeting the Sage a second time make Melal worse? Is there anything that we could learn that would justify all these deaths?"

Suddenly restless, Celivia leapt to her feet. "These slaughters will only happen again and again. Perhaps the best thing we can do is reach the end of the Legend as quickly as possible."

"How?"

"I don't know for sure." As she stared toward the mountain, Celivia gave the first answer that came to mind. "According to the human Legend, the Hero will collect all the seals and then eradicate us. I cannot question that the Hero has some terrible power, but even according to the Sage, he is not the entire Legend. Maybe it isn't destined to end that way. Maybe if the mansthein claim all the seals, we can end the war without genocide."

"I am not convinced." The statement of uncertainty was hard as steel. "How many Zeitai are there?"

"There is no certain answer, but I know of five."

"Then the mansthein have claimed five seals. Has that brought us any closer to peace? It seems to me that all the Zeitai are like Kreue, bringing war and chaos along with them. They may be at the heart of the problem along with the Hero."

"No." Celivia struck the tree with her fist, her anger surprising her as much as Slaten. It took her several heartbeats to understand her own reaction. "The Legend tries to tell everyone that who we are doesn't matter, only what we represent. We both saw it: the Hero isn't a person, only a symbol. It's the same with the Zeitai: it claims that they aren't people who make decisions, but... but metaphors. I can't believe that's true."

"I see." Slaten sat back and contemplated her words seriously, and Celivia felt a pang of something she could not name. Eventually he spoke again. "It seems to me that the men and women who have become the Hero became overwhelmed by that role, but there was still something of them within. Is it the same with the Zeitai?"

"I've never known anyone before they ascended." Celivia forced herself to unclench her fist and considered. "The truth is that I don't know what most of the Zeitai want, but it isn't fair to consider them all the same. Zeitai Teirsan has done countless good works to improve mansthein society and I don't think he's ever gone to war with humans."

"But Melal will never stop warring against him, and the Hero cannot be killed..."

"What are you suggesting? That we lie down and allow him to slaughter our entire species?"

"Celivia, no..." Slaten slowly rose to his feet, his pained eyes forcing her to face him. "I don't have any answers. But I think we can agree that the Legend doesn't seem to end. It isn't just Melal's battles, everything around him is drawn into it."

"There must be another solution." She regretted her burst of anger, yet it had never been directed toward him, only toward the unstoppable horror they faced. "Teirsan was the one who sent me to gather information about the Hero. He didn't share his understanding with me, but he must believe that there's some way to stop him."

"I hope that is true. But I worry that the Legend only ever seems to flow into more Legend. Even if your people can fight back with stories of their own, will anything change?"

"I don't know." Celivia abruptly reached up and pulled the collar off Slaten's neck. "At least promise me that you'll do what you can."

"Always." His eyes met her gaze for a time, then drifted toward the mountain, visible through the pine needles. "But I don't know what should be done about the Sage."

"Neither do I. But I think we can agree on one thing: if there is a seal in the north, it is the cause of great suffering. Not only is it threatening to break Wahleen, it could cause a war across the Maenhu."

"It may already be too late. We heard many rumors of violence on our way south."

There were no answers and Celivia did not know how to begin. Standing alongside Slaten, staring at the mountain towering overhead, she felt both hope and hopelessness recede.

~ ~ ~

The fact that mansthein eyes were always red was so commonly known it was barely worth mentioning, yet in his time as a prisoner, Slaten had come to realize there was more diversity than he had ever noticed. Even working with Kolanin and other mansthein in Bundlin, he had struggled to see past the crimson shine. At most he had noted several different shapes, but now he saw far more.

Though the members of Celivia's band had slightly different coloring and mottling, they all had the same pupils: horizontal and slightly irregular. He had seen such before only in a few animals, such as bicorns. What he noted now was that they shifted their eyes or heads so that their pupils were nearly always parallel to the ground, though what that meant, he couldn't say.

Ghalia's eyes were the same at times, yet occasionally he saw her pupils shrink like a human facing a bright light, except hers became somewhat square. He hadn't noticed a pattern because he tried to avoid looking at Ghalia, since she would look back in a way that made him uncomfortable.

Celivia had intended for his capture to be a mere formality, yet the Catai's presence meant that he could never relax. She had left him earlier, but she still watched him at times. He recognized in her the spirit of one who enjoyed overpowering others, which made him wonder if that was how Tani and the other women at Ith Ire had felt. Slaten struggled to avoid those memories.

Strangely, he found himself thinking of Ghakin. The large Catai had been every bit as dangerous as Ghalia - even more so given their relative strength - but Slaten had never felt as unsafe with him. But Ghakin was long dead, decapitated by the Hero in a meaningless conflict.

Those memories swept away all others and he struggled to return to the present.

From her position away from the camp, Reina watched him like a predator. The raw hatred in her eyes actually worried him less than Ghalia's gaze, but there was little question that she wanted to dismember him with her cleavers. Her eyes were different from the others, red rings without a pupil, surrounded by bright blood vessels.

The rings constricted as she stared back at him, then she slid the edges of her cleavers together. Slaten looked away.

More than any of the others, he found himself analyzing Celivia's eyes. Aside from the color, they might have been considered the most human, but the similar shape masked other differences. Her irises were larger than a human's, filling her eyes with red. Her pupils seemed to expand and contract more as well, though he had difficulty catching the changes.

When they had fought in Keep Aryabaus, he remembered her eyes as black pinpricks within burning red. He'd never seen that again and almost wondered if it had been his mind playing tricks. Then again, he strongly suspected that it was connected to her mood. When she spoke with Reina, not only did she seem more comfortable, her pupils expanded to fill half her eyes.

Her eyes never looked like that when she spoke to him. It might mean nothing, but often when Slaten attempted to train, he found himself thinking about those eyes.

Pulling himself away from that thought, Slaten felt the silver spindle still held within his mantle. He had meant to ask Celivia more about it, but had hesitated to do so in the company of others. Most likely it was irrelevant, but he wondered if it might not be more useful to her than to him.

"We're leaving." Celivia appeared beside him, smiling distractedly, eyes no different from normal. "They've finished reorganizing, and the intact groups will march on Mount Tmil. You need to come with us."

"I understand." He rose to his feet and checked to make sure the collar wouldn't fall off. "Will that be a problem with other bands?"

"You may get some strange looks, but I can make excuses." Celivia undid the chain from the collar, but then apologetically picked up his sword. "Unfortunately, being seen with this would raise too many questions. I'll throw it to you if we're under attack."

He nodded his acceptance and then followed her as they joined the others. The band of eight men began moving with considerable grumbling, by now so accustomed to his presence that they barely gave him a look. They certainly didn't behave like Oken warriors, but he saw many similarities to the few Coran armies he had seen. Perhaps just as warriors were often similar the world over, so the job of soldier produced the same outcomes.

Which meant that he thought just like the Legend. Slaten wanted himself to be wrong, to know Celivia's soldiers as more than their role, but he doubted they wanted to speak with him. He remained quiet as they joined the rest of the army and began to march toward the mountain.

At first the words the band spoke in Futhik had been a babble to him unless he focused, but increasingly he understood whether he wanted to or not. Their rough speech had been difficult for him, different than the formal Futhik he'd learned in Bundlin. He noted that Celivia spoke differently with her band, matching their rough intonations, than when she spoke with her friends.

As he listened, he let his sein flow within him as usual. He never would have thought about it under normal circumstances, but surrounded by mansthein, he wondered if it would be seen as a threat. To his surprise, few seemed to care. Celivia had mentioned that her band had some sein training, but they didn't focus while they walked. When he looked around, he saw that most simply had their eyes on the mountain path.

Celivia's sein flowed within her, almost the same as when she had appeared human. Something was different about Reina, more like a seething throbbing within her. Ghalia's sein was a flood, and when she caught his gaze she raised her eyebrow ridges. Fortunately, she didn't approach.

After they had walked for some time, Celivia came to walk alongside him and spoke quietly. "This is my plan: we have you stay or go depending on the battle. If our army intends to take the mountain, you'll remain safe with me. If it goes poorly for us, use this chance to join the human village there."

"And if Melal makes an appearance?"

"Use your judgment, but join him again if necessary." Her hand slid over to where she held his blade at her hip. "I don't know how this should go, but I want both of us to stay alive."

"Thank you." It felt like the wrong thing to say, but he had nothing else. They walked in silence for a time, growing more uncomfortable until Slaten decided that he needed to speak. "May I ask a question about Catai?"

"Why not?" Celivia smiled in something that might have been relief but kept her gaze forward.

"When we fought earlier, you said that there was more than one type. But I think so far, all the Catai I have met are like Ghalia."

Ghalia whirled to shake a finger at them. "Oh, you haven't met any Catai like me." As Slaten winced to realize that she could hear them, she pushed back along the trail, not caring that she needed to shove some members of the band out of the way. "Just because we all begin with the same skin does not mean all Towd are equal, human. If you'd given me a chance, I'd have proven it to you."

"Proven that you think sex can be 'won' with brute force." Surprisingly, the voice was Reina's. Slaten looked at her in surprise and Ghalia laughed, but the next moment the small mansthein woman backed away as if she regretted saying anything. Considering that her words had drawn immediate attention from Slaten and the mansthein soldiers, he thought he might understand.

After a strange pause, Celivia spoke next. "Ghalia is what we call Towd Catai, and yes, it's the most common type. But it isn't true that you've seen no others. Do you remember Loravasik from Ith Ire? He was Gant Catai."

"Bah, Gant." Ghalia spat off the side of the path beside them. "Nothing but a Laenan imitation of the Towd form."

"Kolanin was also Catai in more than rank," Celivia said, "he was simply the most traditional form. Seirios Catai doesn't offer any immediate advantages like the Towd form, but those who can achieve it are formidable."

"That's actually true. Just after I made Catai, I had one of them hand my ass to me. It took me almost a year before I could ever pin him."

Slaten absorbed the information from both of them, curious about all the details they implied. He noted that the soldiers seemed to be listening closely as well, so it seemed that even in the mansthein army, such details were not common knowledge. When he saw a break in their conversation, he asked his next question. "I fought a mansthein man who... I'm not sure how to describe it. Sometimes his hands looked like jaws to me. He broke a sword with his bare hands."

"Ilankril Catai." Reina spoke up, though she frowned as if she did so against her will. "They're rare."

"You aren't wrong in what you saw," Celivia said. "It isn't so dissimilar to how the raiding clans have unusually durable bodies due to their practice of sein, but with a Catai rebirth, it can be much more dramatic. You could think of his hands as partially formed of sein, able to transform at will. Not to anything, but to the form you saw, better suited for combat."

"Mansthein can do that?" Though Slaten had meant to ask the same question, he hadn't spoken: one of the larger soldiers had blurted it out. He swallowed as if embarrassed as everyone looked at him, but his reaction was useful. Clearly, it was an advanced technique.

Ghalia shook her head. "Always struck me as damn inconvenient. But you wanted to be Ilankril Catai for a while, Celi. Is that still your goal?"

"I'm not sure what form I would take."

"Then become a Towd!' Ghalia grinned mockingly. "You could probably keep all that beautiful hair if you worked at it. Of course, you'd end up with the wrong kind of curves..."

Though Celivia rolled her eyes as if it was an old joke, Slaten knew there was something more there. Their conversation had been over a year ago, but he thought that she had shown a clear goal. Unless she had changed her mind, she had intentionally withheld that information from Ghalia. There was something between them, perhaps a friendship gone rotten, but he didn't dare ask about it.

Instead he looked back to Reina, who again glared hatred at him. "What do you call the technique that you use? I've seen it several times, but I still don't understand it."

"It's called seinrage, and I'll not explain it to you." She pointedly walked to the other side of Celivia and refused to look at him. The taller mansthein woman gave him an apologetic smile.

"I don't think a human could perform it, and if you could, you wouldn't want to. If you think of the sein within your body as blood, seinrage is like tearing open every vessel at once. Only Bersk mansthein can survive it."

He wanted to ask more, but the question clearly made Reina unhappy. Though he still didn't entirely understand her, the woman's policy on attacking him with cleavers was well established, so he left the subject behind. As much as he wanted to take the opportunity to learn more about mansthein, he felt as though every question placed him on a thin ledge among conflicts he didn't know. He was little better than a stranger arriving in the Chorhan Expanse and assuming all cultures there were the same.

Then he saw Tani ahead of him and all other questions fell away.

She raised a finger to her lips, then slipped back into a crevice. He had only seen her for a flickering moment, so briefly that he would have questioned if it had been real, if he hadn't seen her methods of obscuring herself before. For the rest of their march he couldn't focus, trying to catch glimpses of her as he decided what he should do.

First, he desperately hoped that she wouldn't attempt a violent rescue. Hopefully she would not risk her life in her vendetta against Celivia, and at the least he thought he could trust in her judgment not to attack when she was so outnumbered. After that, he wondered what she intended, or if she represented others. If Melal intended to ambush the group, should he warn Celivia?

He reached no answers before they stopped for the night, now much closer to Mount Tmil. They gave him some of their rations to eat but Slaten didn't taste any of them. Soon it was too much and he said he needed to relieve himself. As he'd hoped, no one bothered to guard him.

There were few trees this high in the mountains, but when he stepped around a craggy corner, Tani slipped from the shadows. She smiled warmly, but her gaze lingered on his collar. "Slaten. I'm relieved you're safe."

"Celivia saved me." He undid the metal collar and let it dangle from one hand. "How much do you know about the mansthein army's intentions? She's been very forthcoming with me."

"I'm not claiming that she hates you, Slaten. But you should know better than anyone that our safety is not her highest priority. If she has to choose..."

"Between what?" Celivia landed lightly beside them and they both flinched. When Tani started to draw her sickle knife and paused, Celivia gave her a sharp smile. "You're impressively quiet, but you aren't the only one whose senses have improved."

Tani's eyes tightened, but she restrained herself, hands at her side as stiff as dead limbs. "I'm taking Slaten back now."

"I wouldn't stand in your way. But unless you want there to be another battle like the last one, please speak to me first. Is Melal coming with an army?"

"I left him after the battle. He was determined to reach Mount Tmil then, but I don't know where he is." Tani pinched the bridge of her nose for several heartbeats and then spoke in a flatter voice. "Why exactly are you here, Celivia? You somehow think it would be best for the world if you killed the Sage?"

"I don't know if it would be for the best. But it was my assignment, and-"

"That's just what I can't trust about you." Tani's voice rose enough that Slaten glanced nervously toward the band, but no one came to investigate. She stepped close, glaring at Celivia, but kept her voice lower. "Even if you didn't hate us, you did everything that was necessary to complete your mission. You lied to me."

Celivia smiled sadly. "The other reason I came was because I hoped to see you again. Both of you. I'm truly sorry for what happened, but-"

"But you serve the mansthein army first of all. The army that invaded our homelands and nearly killed us."

"And what do you expect of me?" Celivia's smile had vanished, her pupils contracting dangerously. Slaten wanted to interject but couldn't find any words. "You think I should turn against my own people and abandon everything I've ever known? I want the wars to end and I'm working to do it with as little loss of life as possible. Would it be fair if I blamed you for every Coran aggression?"

"Those aren't the same at all! You never tried to talk to us, you only lied so you could complete your mission!"

"Please stop." Slaten didn't know what he intended to say, and he took a step back as both women turned furious gazes on him. What emerged from his mouth was a question he hadn't expected. "Celivia, you've claimed that you want to change the mansthein army from within. What would you change?"

"Other than ending the wars?" Celivia regarded him with narrow eyes, then turned away. There was little to see as the darkness draped over the hills, but her gaze became lost in it. "I could tell you how I think I could end the violence, but you wouldn't believe me, would you?"

Before Slaten could answer, Tani spat "No" and continued glaring at her. Celivia was silent for while longer, then spoke in a very different voice.

"In some parts of Orphos, lower caste women are imprisoned in deep pits. Some locked in cages, others forced to work. When the time comes, all of them are bred like livestock, their children taken from them to become a new generation of soldiers. The practice was dying away, but now Kreue intends to revive it here." Celivia turned back to them, eyes murderous. "If I had the power, that is what I would change first."

"Celivia..." Tani breathed the name, her anger cut from under her. "Then... when I saw your memory..."

"It was not false. The only piece I changed was making us appear to be human."

For a moment, Slaten hoped that they had found peace with one another. But the betrayal ran deep in Tani's blood, and Slaten knew he had always been a poor negotiator. Soon he saw Tani's face harden again. "And yet you fight for them."

"I fight to change the only system that exists for us. When someone offers me an alternative that doesn't involve the slaughter of every mansthein in the world, I'll consider it."

They could have shouted at one another, but instead they only stared in spent rage. Something had changed, but Slaten could not say if it was an improvement. When the silence stretched on long enough, he spoke. "I think we need to speak to the Sage, but I don't know how the battle will fall. Whatever else we believe, we need to be prepared for it."

"Melal is coming." Tani took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I don't know if he's gathered another army or if he's coming alone, but I have no doubt that he will be here."

"I think it would be best if I stayed with Celivia for now. That way we can see both sides of the conflict and do... whatever can be done."

Celivia nodded. "It will depend on how much resistance remains. Morale is low on our side, and if the soldiers are bloodied again, the remaining cohorts may break. But there's always the possibility that Kreue will return and this will become another bloodbath."

"Then we listen and wait." Tani turned away and stepped off the edge, sliding down into the shadows without a trace.

Slaten waited in the silence, then returned the collar to his neck.

~ ~ ~

The others said nothing about the encounter the next day. Celivia knew that Fijn suspected, but he said nothing. Ghalia and Reina would have noticed her absence, but even Ghalia didn't take the opportunity to ask if she had helped Slaten with his business. She thought that it might have passed entirely without comment until the middle of the march, when Reina began walking beside her.

"I got a better look at the human this time." Reina watched her with a strange expression. "She's pretty, at least."

"Rei..."

"There's only the minor detail that she hates you."

"I expect this from Ghalia, not you."

"It isn't that, Celi." Reina's face immediately became sorrowful. "I truly want you to be happy. But this... I don't see how it could work. You're making a mistake even entertaining the thought."

"You didn't see us before. She's right that I lied to her, but I thought that she would understand."

"Are you sure that she wasn't friendly with you only because you looked human?"

Celivia shot Reina a glance. "Tani isn't like that. She's one of the most open-hearted people I know, even after all she's suffered. She wasn't blind to the barbarism of the resistance and even criticized it. But I don't know if she can forgive my betrayal..."

"Then I apologize for judging, but my opinion hasn't changed." Reina gave her an awkward half-hug around the waist as they walked. "The real question is how she'll react to the northern pits. If she can ignore that suffering, then I don't think she's worth it."

"You're investing a lot of thought into this, Rei. Slaten has been with us for days and you never asked about him."

Reina snorted. "Your strange tastes are your own business. Besides, I don't like how he kept ogling me."

"Slaten? Ogling you?" For a moment Celivia stared, but Reina's expression soon shifted from her usual scorn.

"That's the wrong word. Not with lust, only... like he was thinking about how to kill me."

"Are you sure you weren't glaring back at him the entire time?"

"Of course I was! But he started it."

Talking to Reina helped Celivia relax, but it also made her realize that it couldn't last. Regardless of how it ended, they were nearing the conclusion of the conflict. Ghalia might be able to travel for long periods of time, but Reina was technically past any leave she could justify and potentially would suffer the consequences. She couldn't in good conscience request that her friends remain for much longer.

Though it was still more than a day until they reached Mount Tmil, the low dark clouds made the mountain seem to hang over them at all times. The army grew tense as they drew closer, a phenomenon she might have blamed on the Legend if Slaten hadn't shared it. His eyes often searched for the peak in the clouds above.

Celivia's band marched on the western flank of the army, so she didn't see when it happened. She only felt the earth shudder, then looked up in time to see a boulder crashing through the valley as if it was no more than a stone. At first she searched for an ambush above, then she felt the presence from a different peak entirely.

A human stood there, carrying an oblong stone larger than his own body. Though he looked like any other human raider, she instantly knew that he must be the master who stood in their way. His sein defied classification by a single sense, searing an impression of a flaming wind in her mind. When he spoke, his voice rang out over the valley.

"That was a warning, Deathspawn. Not because I don't want to kill you, but because I promised only to defend this peak. If you continue forward then I, Aganomu, will be your end."

"Shields!" One of the commanders at the head of the army shouted the command and the front lines began to drop down. Celivia realized that they all carried tall metal shields, almost as if they had known what they would face. They knelt to the ground and held their shields at an angle, so that a projectile might pass over them instead.

It was madness. She didn't think untrained soldiers could resist an ordinary boulder rolled from a great height, much less one thrown by a true master. From his peak, Aganomu hefted his stone onto his shoulder, ready to throw it like a spear.

"Kaen?" Ghasfik stared at her with wide eyes and she saw that the rest watched her as well. "Do we raise our shields?"

"It wouldn't do any good." Once she might have feared to look cowardly, but they had survived the previous battle and understood. "If the Zeitai appears to fight for us, we advance. If not, we need to reach a defended position."

"Loose!" Another commander shouted and Celivia realized that an entire company of archers had massed in the center of their remaining army. Their shafts lifted into the air as one, a storm of arrows rising to join the clouds above.

The human master hurled his boulder. Not toward the army, but toward the mountain beside them.

She didn't even see it strike, only saw the mountain itself erupt. An unfathomable weight of stone burst into the air and half the mountainside crumbled like a child's pile of sand. From a distance Celivia could see it all happen, the stones crashing down into others and sending them tumbling in an ever-larger avalanche that swept over the army below.

A second boulder struck and she felt a much closer eruption. Celivia realized that another avalanche was beginning and turned to the others. She saw horror on the faces of her band, but her gaze was meant for the other warriors.

Ghalia moved first, sweeping several men over each shoulder and leaping away. Celivia wanted to save Ghasfik and Fijn, but instead grabbed whoever was closest. She saw Reina intentionally step around Splinters to carry Huthur over her head instead, but to her surprise Slaten lifted the other members of her band and followed with them.

They had not been in the center of the second avalanche, so their speed was more than enough to escape. When they skidded to a halt at a safe distance, all the soldiers were still recoiling from the shock. Celivia set down the two she had carried and saw that Puga's ears were bleeding. Though his eyes were wide, she thought he was merely alarmed, not seinshocked. Ghalia had taken Brifik to safety, but now he huddled against himself, shaking violently.

Behind them, the two avalanches crashed together. She had expected them to meet like waves, but instead stones tumbled in every direction for only a cacophonous moment before they fell together in a sea of rock.

Some survived, as every band contained at least one trained warrior. Though many of them had been crushed by the rock, several Catai had taken up shields and successfully defended a pocket of soldiers, now rising and sending smaller stones tumbling from them. Yet over half of their numbers had been crushed and Celivia knew for a certainty that the war was over. They stood within sight of the Sage's village, but they might as well be gazing on another world.

"Your Zeitai fled like a coward." Aganomu stood in the center of the valley, tossing and catching a stone in his left hand. It was only a small rock, not a boulder, but it was threat enough. "If he wants what I protect, tell him to stop sending boys and fight me himself."

He turned his back on them and walked toward the village. He could have run there in a blink, so it could only be that he wanted them all to watch his back and understand how little they threatened him. Some of the strongest in the remaining forces could no doubt have harmed him, but in the remnants of their army, they did nothing.

"No Zeitai." Tani's voice emerged from behind them, and this time Celivia hadn't been aware of her. Though the young woman had done nothing to assist, she at least looked over the avalanche in sorrow. "I think that all of you should go. I spotted Melal less than a day from here, and his warriors will slaughter everyone they find."

"You're right." Celivia took a deep breath and then turned to the humans. "Both of you can go. But you're traveling north as well, aren't you? Melal won't stop until he has the seal."

"He won't." Slaten set a hand on the hilt of his sword as he stared upward. "But you have more time than we do. Will you be going there first?"

"I have a friend who was just assigned to manage the mine, and I hope... even if she can't change the Zeitai's orders, I hope that she will be able to evacuate the civilians." Celivia smiled bitterly at both of them. "I want to see you again, but I fear what might happen if I do."

Slaten nodded seriously to her and turned away. Tani lingered for a heartbeat longer, staring at her with a strange expression, then she turned so rapidly that her hair spun behind her. The two of them quickly vanished into the hills before the mansthein army could regroup. Before she lost the sight, Celivia tried to fix their sein in her memory.

Since Slaten remained an indecipherable sphere of flame, she spent more time examining Tani. Her inner self was a carefully tended campfire, a pyramid of even branches interlacing one another, glowing from the flame within. Though it was only a vision in her sein, Celivia wished that it could warm her.

Though there were a thousand things to do to recover, Celivia ignored them and instead marched over the remains of the avalanche, searching for someone in charge. The untrained leaders of the army had been crushed, but several of the top warriors stood atop piles of stones and bodies. She spotted Yelaan and leapt up to stand beside the Zeitai's functionary.

"You should have known better than this." Celivia knew she was speaking out of turn, but couldn't hold back. "If the Zeitai didn't intend to fight Aganomu, why send us all this way?"

"It is regrettable that the human master proved stronger than we expected." Those flat eyes suggested it was a dry regret that could be represented by a few numbers on a piece of paper. "But the fact that this mad campaign to kill a single human was unsuccessful does not mean that our operations were futile."

Eyes widening, Celivia resisted the urge to step back. "Did you call the Zeitai's plan a mad campaign?"

"It is his job to be concerned with Heroes and Legends." Yelaan shrugged. "That allows the rest of us to focus on practical matters."

"How is losing so much of a legion practical?"

"Everyone was focused on the Sage, even our enemies in the human nations. What you all fail to realize is that the legion spent the vast majority of its time battling the human raiders that have been interfering with our caravans. Entire clans have been eliminated and many passes have been cleared."

"Other humans will replace them..." Yet even as she voiced the objection, the horror dawned on her. It had been about trade from the beginning.

"We have proven to the human guilds that we can punish the raiders and cleared the borders that were always so clogged by politics." Yelaan smiled with bloodless confidence. "At the same time, the Zeitai proved that we can play by their rules. When we resume negotiations, the long stalemate will be broken."

She knew that nothing she said could ever pierce his certainty, but Celivia still swept her arm over the battlefield. "Was that worth all this?"

"That is not for me to decide." Yet the look in his eyes was answer enough.

As she returned to her band, Celivia tried to convert the sensation of loss into a more fathomable calculation. She believed that Kreue had been sincere in his concern over the Hero, so what did this mean? Did his subordinates actively work against him, scorning the Legend? Or had he played the same game, willing to sacrifice some pride in order to gain advantage?

At that moment, Celivia thought she saw Kreue's personal Voidwalker standing atop one of the nearby peaks. After the day she'd had, Celivia rubbed her eyes to be sure, and when she looked again, he was gone.

Though her band had survived with only a few bruises, they were in no shape to celebrate their victory. Ghasfik convinced a few to help move rocks, rescuing those who were still alive near the edges of the avalanche. Celivia intended to join them, but first found herself facing Ghalia and Reina.

"It's going to be a long road back." The Catai shielded her eyes to look north, then grimaced. "I'm glad I joined you, Celi, but I grow weary of this war. When you're tired of playing with humans, you're always welcome with Xetsu's legions."

"Thank you, Ghali." For the first time, the name felt wrong in her mouth.

"I don't know if you'll listen, but you need to be careful. You might have grown much stronger personally, but you've fought far too much with no promotion to show for it. You were always the best of us at that political shit. Don't let Jeraeli or anyone else trick you."

"I'll keep that in mind." Celivia must have sounded harsher than she intended, because Reina met her gaze cautiously before she spoke.

"I agree you need to be careful, Celi. There's so much politics in this place... I don't want to leave you, but I almost miss the Laenans. I've been away for far too long."

"I understand." Celivia embraced them both, and for all her doubts, she found that she didn't want to let go of Ghalia. They lingered in the embrace for some time, and in the wake of the defeat, no one dared to say a word. Though the two would not leave immediately, when they parted, Celivia felt tears forming as if they were already gone.

She sat down near the others, as numb as Brifik's empty stare. For a time she only rested, trying not to think about the fact that she had just left four friends. Even if they had been victorious that day, it meant nothing. Not when her only reward was to return north and face what Kreue was doing there.

"I get why you train so much now." Big Ragh sat down beside her and slapped her knee roughly. Celivia realized slowly that he was doing his best to comfort her and nodded.

"You did well to survive. We'll be stronger next time."

"Aye. But not just yet. For all that went wrong, we survived. We get to go home."

Celivia nodded, this time for different reasons. As she thought about the pits, she realized that it was almost true. Home, in a sense.

Chapter 51

-

"About the strange custom of mansthein females to wrap their heads in turbans, this handbook can say little. Some proclaim that their lack of hair is a certain sign that they are not truly women, yet some do possess hair. Rumor has it that their hair is ill-suited to braids, which may reflect their underlying temperament."

- Portantese Young Lady's Handbook

-

With every step upward, the clouds grew thicker, yet the air thinner. Tani had wanted to enjoy the view from Mount Tmil, but advancing had required more and more of her focus until everything was lost in the clouds. Now she proceeded on willpower alone.

After so much conflict with Celivia, meeting with Melal had been troublingly simple. Tani had been glad to see Veron with him, but the older woman was deeply distracted. She actually felt weaker than before and Tani worried that she had been drinking. Her eyes were clear, however, and she walked upward step after step without hesitation.

Reaching the village of Sages had been a brief joy. Tani had spent so long imagining their lives after hearing Slaten and Laeri describe it: if there was truly a village of those who saw the Legend, how did they live? She longed to know what they wore, who they respected, what they ate.

They had refused to speak to her. When she had asked for something to eat, they had stared at her like vermin crawling out of their soup.

Only one person had spoken to them, a girl named Julapa. Even she had been quiet, however, merely leading them to the base of the mountain. Her grandfather, Sage Tuvano, awaited them at the peak. Everything else in the village was as flimsy as smoke, nothing but a container for their meeting. Though it troubled her deeply, Tani focused herself inward so that she would be completely prepared for the Sage.

At first they had spoken to one another, but words grew more and more difficult as they climbed. The path itself was simple, shifting between ragged paths, carved stairs, and the occasional ladder. It was the air itself that fought them, stealing their breaths the higher they traveled.

Melal marched ahead, unaffected by such petty details. Slaten also appeared able to breathe easily, and when she had asked him, he suggested that Bloodskin training allowed it. Tani let her sein flow through her to maintain her strength, though she knew that she would eventually exhaust herself that way. Laeri had collapsed mid-way up and Veron began carrying her without complaint.

As they neared the top, Tani's vision began to waver. Occasionally she saw the path, but at times she walked on air. The clouds should have been dark, yet they flickered with glorious light. She felt her hand trailing along the rock at her side, except for moments when she felt marble and saw a golden city closing around them.

Then the mountain cut off above her. She thought it must be another hallucination until she took several more steps upward and began to see the top. Mount Tmil simply ended, as if an impossibly large sword had chopped off the peak. At the top of the stairs waited only a rocky plane with a small house in the center.

And the raider master standing with his arms folded, watching them.

Tani hesitated at first, remembering the destruction he had caused. Even if it had been against the Deathspawn army, it had been such a terrible loss of life merely to stop their march. If Tani had possessed his power, she would have caused the landslide ahead of them, to block their path but allow the Deathspawn to retreat. Yet if she had, would it truly have saved lives?

"At last, you have arrived." Aganomu stared over them, offering no help as they limped up the final steps. "This part is the old man's job, not mine. Sage Tuvano awaits you within."

"As he should." Melal strode past him toward the house, leaving all of them with no choice but to follow.

Though she had thought it was a house at first, Tani quickly realized that she had been wrong. It had the outer walls of one, but a house contained life. The building ahead of them was merely a shell, used by the Sage for purposes far above such mundane concerns. When Melal threw the doors open, she saw that the majority of the house was a single room, void except for a table with a chair at the end.

Sage Tuvano sat at the end of the table, awaiting them. When Tani saw his eyes, she drew a deep breath. There was none of the brashness of the Hero within him and nothing of violence. The Sage fought not with blades, but with truth. She could see the wisdom in the lines of his face, reminding her of her own master. Tani wanted nothing more than to sit at his feet and accept what he had to offer.

She shouldn't.

Tani desperately clawed for memories of herself, of how Jaer Krylyl had taught her to fill her mind with her own thoughts so that the Hero could not fill it for her. Except now she realized how little she had understood his lesson. She had armored herself against the Hero's commands to slaughter their foes, leaving a hollowness begging to be filled with wisdom. Any wisdom, no matter how cruel.

When she looked again, she saw Tuvano for what he was. An old man with thick white stubble, gray hair and eyes that could have been from any raider clan. He was clad in robes of a majestic white, but uncomfortably, as if he would rather be wearing something else. The Sage was only a man.

"Tani?" Slaten had noticed and stopped beside her. She immediately grabbed the front of his shirt and drew him close to hiss in his ear.

"We should not ask him our questions."

"But we've come all this way..." He looked at her in concern and she saw that he had partially fallen into the Sage's glory. His mental discipline might be weaker, but fortunately he had never been as vulnerable to respected masters. They had only moments as Veron roused Laeri, so she sought to communicate what she had understood in only a few words.

"We thought he could reveal the workings of the Legend to us, but we were wrong. The builder is least able to see the flaws in their own house. To... to show him our doubts would be the same as to tell the Hero to embrace the Deathspawn."

She realized only as she spoke that she had been thinking of the mansthein as the Deathspawn and carefully steeled herself against the thought. Slaten observed her skeptically, but at the root of it he trusted her. He gave a very slight nod and they entered the chamber together.

"At last, you have arrived." Sage Tuvano spoke with an impossibly resonant voice, but Tani had braced herself and expected it. Concentrating, she was able to remember that the raider had said exactly the same thing. "The Hero and four of his companions. You believe that you have come here for guidance, but the Legend is the only signpost you need. You are here to learn of fate."

"Weren't we supposed to show you the seal?" Veron asked the question roughly, voice grating over the tabletop. Tani realized that she reeked of alcohol. Sage Tuvano only chuckled.

"That was once the path, but as I told your young friends, the Legend is a vine. Sometimes pruned, but forever growing. You may not yet have claimed the second seal, but you will. What matters is that all of us have dreamed deeply and we now have something to offer you."

Melal went down on one knee. "What is it, Sage Tuvano?"

"Prophecy." The Sage rose to his feet and slowly walked around the table toward them. "The Legends you have heard are echoes, not the heart of the story itself. What I offer you is a truth more important than any one life. It could be your downfall or your salvation."

"I have all the prophecies I need." Melal returned to his feet, eyes bright. Sage Tuvano nodded somberly.

"You do, Hero, you do. The prophecies are for your companions, for their roles in the Legend are not so clear. But I do have words to offer you: the longer you remain in the north, the more your fate will become entwined with the Zeitai who lurks there. All paths surrounding the Zeitai lead to death, more death than we could see beyond. I suggest that you retrieve the seal and then depart to seek your destiny elsewhere."

"Why not simply strike down every Deathspawn in my path before I take the next step?"

"It is vague indeed, but I sense a crack in your soul that you might regret for the remainder of your life. There is a chance that you will lose something precious to you, perhaps even lose it twice. If you lose it a third time, it will be... a terrible fate indeed. So for now, I suggest that you leave Breilin and find your destiny in other lands."

Though Tani had expected Melal to bridle against the suggestion that he should run away, to her surprise he simply nodded. If she had been taken off guard by the wisdom of the Sage, it seemed to have claimed him completely. Nothing remained of the Melal she had once known, at that moment.

Now that he had spoken to Melal, the Sage turned to the others, and Tani realized that she was standing at one side of their group. Without realizing it, they had formed a line in front of him. As the Sage walked toward her he extended a hand just in front of her forehead and closed his eyes.

She felt something stir within her and tried to slay it. These were simple tricks, letting the mind deceive itself. Everything he had said so far was vague, nearly to the point of being useless. She would listen, but he could say nothing about her as she truly was.

"Tani of the Nelee Rhen."

Not only did he speak her name, he spoke it as if he knew each letter intimately. Tani shivered, all attempts to dismiss his words failing as he continued to speak.

"You walk along the edge of a knife, your feet bleeding until you fall. In a time of great thirst, you will face a choice between two paths, between two lives you might defend. You must choose one and leave the knife or you will perish."

When his hand shifted away from her, Tani felt a great weight lift. Her mind was tangled up in his words, but it remained hers. She had not been swept up in his prophecy, though the words had burned themselves into her mind. Utterly meaningless, unless they weren't.

"Slaten, once of the Oken." Sage Tuvano had moved on, eyes still closed. "You do not face any great death, for what you must fear is survival. If you turn back, you will live an empty life devoid of the Legend. If you walk forward, death will take more and more of you, one piece at a time."

"That's all?" Slaten spoke as the Sage started to move on. "An empty life or a slow death?"

For a brief moment the Sage looked at him, scratching at his beard as if he was only an old man. Eventually he spoke in a less sonorous voice, a quiet word to Slaten instead of announcing destiny to the heavens. "There is a chance, only a chance, that you could set aside your sword, raise a hammer, and build something that could become part of the Legend. But the moment when you could lay down your sword will be very brief indeed."

With that pronouncement, he moved onward. Though Tani had warned Slaten not to ask questions, she couldn't blame him for that one. Her own prophecy had been a clear warning to help her, whereas his had been nothing but a condemnation.

When Sage Tuvano reached Laeri, she straightened and beamed at him, eagerly awaiting his words. He was silent for much longer than with the previous two, but when he spoke, the Sage's voice was as confident as before.

"Your story will flow alongside the Legend, just as it always has. But so many currents of meaning flow past you, there is uncertainty. I see a great light within you, but what form that light will take is uncertain. Over the course of your story you will be offered many weapons and you must choose carefully whether to accept one, or none at all."

That meant nearly nothing, yet Laeri sighed and clasped her hands over her heart. Such vague encouragement had been what Tani had expected when the Sage had begun giving his words. She tried to tell herself that he might simply have learned their names in preparation, but couldn't believe it. Not with her mind under assault by his wisdom.

"Veron." Sage Tuvano gave a strange smile. "Veron, born of the Corans but now a child of the Chorhan Expanse. You believe you want a simple life and a meaningless death, but you have chosen against them time and time again, and now they are lost to you. In you, I see the potential to stand against the light and die tragically, or stand on the side of right and sacrifice it gloriously. Your final choice will come when a dark island crashes against the shore."

Though Veron nodded and lowered her eyes, Tani caught a flash of something else there. She would certainly not accept it so easily.

"My friends, I have given you so little, but you have taken all you can from me." Sage Tuvano returned to the other side of the table and placed his hands within his sleeves. "We Sages will return to sleep and dream of what we can. Perhaps we can offer you glimpses of your enemy's plans, but these are meaningless. The Legend is not a path into the future, it is seizing destiny. Return to the world below and take your place in it."

Tani wanted to mock him by agreeing that he had given them little. Only a few words... even if they were true prophecies of the future, they scarcely seemed to matter compared to the thousands of deaths the Hero caused. And if the Zeitai were truly part of the Legend, all the deaths they caused as well.

Yet as they turned to go, Tani realized that the Sage had said more than he knew. The Legend, which loomed above as both nothing and everything, had now been given form. She ran the words of the prophecies through her mind as if they were the declarations of an enemy. Though she could not claim to comprehend every detail, she realized that Sage Tuvano understood just as little as the Hero or all the others who followed him. Apprehension had never been the purpose, and indeed they scorned understanding. All that mattered was the beauty of destiny.

When Tani walked outside, she trembled as the light nearly blinded her. The storm clouds were gone, replaced with thunderous white all around them. She realized that the clouds must have descended, perhaps still stormy underneath but shining in the sun.

The sun... it yawned directly overhead, devouring half the sky. Tani longed to grab the ground as if she could prevent herself from falling upward and being consumed in it. She saw Laeri gasp in awe, while Slaten and Veron stumbled.

Only the Hero walked on, staring directly into the sun as it burned the sky.

- End of Part 4 -

Interlude

A loose thread tickled at the back of Eraes Tor Yin's neck, but when she reached to tear it out, she felt nothing. Frowning, she readjusted her rough jerkin, but the sensation only shifted. Given her present situation, she did her best to set it permanently out of mind.

Nothing felt right, all the way on the western coast. It was certainly no Xanunsol, and everything from the shoddiness of her clothes to the inferior food reminded her of that. Corunyon was one of the largest cities in Teralanth, and a critical point, otherwise she would never have remained. But she wasn't serving in the city itself, but outside a decrepit hidden port to the north, where everything wore on her.

But she'd been over those thoughts before. Eraes set them aside and did her best to focus on the strategy table in front of her. The pieces had barely moved since the previous night, and she knew them all by heart: the blockade around the city, the flagging defenders, and the two blocks of mansthein troops arrayed outside the walls.

It was not the heart of the fighting, but it was all that was left to her after her exile.

Every part of her work vied to be the hardest. Shipments rarely arrived on time and were often intercepted. Their defensive lines were always at a breaking point. They had yet to smuggle anything into Corunyon without drawing more problems to themselves.

"Commander Yin?" An aide appeared beside her, his name a meaningless note in the back ledgers of her mind. "Local fishers picked up several sailors who claim to be part of the crew coming from Baelen. They say that Zeitai Xetsu's forces sank their vessel."

"Dammit." Eraes stared off the edge of her map, imagining the deployment of forces there. "No attempt to steal their cargo?"

"No, commander. But we can assume that none of the salt will arrive."

She had risked shipment from Baelen because she knew that Xetsu didn't care about the war in Teralanth, but that fact had proved irrelevant. Regardless of the reason, she realized what she needed to do. "Stop purchasing salt from Baelen entirely. We'll source it from the Suonie Islands."

"But commander, that won't be cheap..." The aide swallowed when she focused fully on him.

"If anyone has a better idea, they can bring it to me. Until then, we avoid the coast of Baelen."

As he left, Eraes swept her eyes over the map yet again. The trouble was that the mansthein didn't seem in any hurry to take the city, instead lingering outside the walls and shifting their troops. She'd sent spies to learn more, but they'd yet to return. Meanwhile, their waiting only increased the human suffering within the city.

Strangest of all, she couldn't see any military reason for them to attempt to take Corunyon. Even if they intended to conquer Teralanth, beginning on the west coast made no sense. The city had only two significant assets on a global scale: access to shipping on the Terant Ocean and several ancient buildings of cultural value.

When they had given her a position of command, the first thing she had done was send out emissaries to negotiate terms to preserve the ancient buildings. They'd returned without a response, which was highly unusual. The mansthein had been so open to negotiation before she had gone to the Chorhan Expanse, but now...

"New scouts have reported, Commander Yin." Another one of the commanders entered the room and shifted several of the pieces representing the mansthein army. And removed two of them. Eraes immediately narrowed her eyes as she gave their formation a fresh look.

"Did our saboteurs eliminate those troops, Commander Vil?"

"Not to our knowledge." Kan Tor Vil swallowed and edged closer to speak quietly, as if they weren't in the middle of their command center. He was a nervous man with too much passion for pitched battles, but he had been the one to get her the position. "Spies say that the mansthein have been conducting training exercises between their forces, but we don't know why."

"No." Eraes's fingers gripped the edge of the table so hard it cracked, everything coming together in her mind. "No, they're fighting each other."

"What? But if the mansthein want to take Corunyon, why would they bring opposing forces?"

"Think about everything we've seen. There must be more than one faction, and they want to deny the city to the other more than they want to take it themselves. It must have broken out into actual fighting."

Kan regarded her skeptically, as he had every time she suggested anything that was even mildly unorthodox. Unfortunately, they weren't going to make someone with her limited experience the head commander, even here. Her time in the Chorhan Expanse had given her many things, but relevant experience was not one of them.

Just as she thought it would become an argument, a messenger rushed into the room. He handed her a scroll with a mansthein seal, but puffed out his message before she could finish opening it. "They responded... they want to meet... about the library..."

"When?" Kan asked, but Eraes had already read the letter and had the answer.

"Right now. I need someone to ready a group to join me, including at least one Fareye."

"You're actually going to meet them? But what if it's a trap?"

"They agreed to meet at the library itself, which is in our effective range and past theirs. The only trap I can see is if the urgency involves a warrior, which is why I asked for a Fareye." Eraes slammed the paper down on the table and straightened. "Whatever the mansthein are doing, it puts those historic buildings at risk. I need to go if there's any chance of protecting them."

More importantly, she wanted to reopen negotiations, but she didn't say that. Since she had left Teralanth, something had changed, more and more strategists assuming that conflict with the mansthein was inevitable. As far as she could see, that was an unwarranted assumption, and it reminded her of a certain bright-eyed madman.

As she left the command center, Eraes found herself soon joined by a small group that included a Fareye. Even out here, the Teralanthan military was efficient. They soon passed their own lines, entering into the region where both sides could field warriors. For the sake of the average soldier, it was kept clear except during major offenses.

The Library of Unwan sat within that zone, between the city of Corunyon and her little port. As they marched toward it, Eraes wondered if it was really worth the trouble at all. Even in the best of times, it had never been any great center of learning, merely a gathering place for relics of the past becoming a relic itself.

Yet the fact that the message had insisted on an urgent meeting drove her forward. There had been no subtext in the message, yet the very fact of it after the silence was itself strange. Either a mansthein commander had suddenly taken an interest in history or something stranger was going on.

When they arrived outside the squat pyramid, scouts reported that the mansthein had done as they'd promised. The enemy commander had brought only a small group of his own soldiers, taking a defensive position beside the library but showing no sign of anything but caution. They said that he awaited her within, so she gestured to her Fareye to be alert and went to meet the man.

"Eraes Tor Yin." The mansthein who greeted her was a Laenan man with thinning green hair, curled horns, and a bit of a paunch. He chuckled and put one hand on his hip as she approached. "So you are the one who keeps slipping supplies around our blockade."

"I thought this was about the library." Eraes folded her arms behind her back and refused to smile until he revealed his purpose.

"Oh, it is. Can we leave all these soldiers behind and speak commander to commander? They have so little appreciation for the past, it would only bore them."

Given that the area was secure, such a proposal was likely harmless. Though an old trick was to send a warrior in place of a commander and decapitate the opponent's army, that was one of the many reasons she had been trained to view sein. To her eye, the commander was almost completely untrained, so his proposal was likely only a request to speak in private.

She nodded curtly and both groups cautiously moved to the entrance of the squat pyramid. Most of the scholars at the library had abandoned it when the fighting began, but a few workers emerged to open the doors for them. Eraes and the mansthein commander entered together, soon seated across from one another in a pair of chairs in a quiet lobby.

Though she wanted to examine the library at length, Eraes told herself that there would be time later and constrained herself to military concerns. It appeared almost entirely abandoned, but she could see the rows upon rows of scrolls beyond. So far, everything had been as secure as promised, so she turned her full attention toward the enemy commander.

"My name is Olaenaq, and I have actually called you here under false pretenses." Smiles gone, he regarded her with a hard gaze - she didn't see a trap in his eyes, only desperation.

"This isn't about the Library of Unwan?"

"Take it." He tossed a scroll onto the table between them. "The military doesn't care about it, though on a personal level I would hate to see any ancient Teralanthan culture destroyed. But it matters less than our present concern, which is why I brought you here."

"I see." Eraes took the scroll but didn't look at it, waiting for him to get to the point. He seemed to be expecting a question from her, but her gaze eventually forced him onward.

"The truth is, there was never meant to be a siege of Corunyon. The matter is... well, it is rather an embarrassment, but give me some time to explain and you will understand."

"The Seinan army is fighting the Laenan one." Though she'd figured it out that very day, Eraes spoke in a bored tone as if she had known all along. "The people of Teralanth do not appreciate being drawn into your internecine conflicts."

Judging from the shock on his face, Eraes was overwhelmingly grateful to the spies who had brought her that intelligence. Olaenaq had anticipated being able to frame the military situation to a naive human, but now he might be more honest. After readjusting some of the buttons on his uniform, Olaenaq nodded and explained.

"That was never our intention, but there is a... conflict between Laerith and Ith Silvaros. Our forces were meant to threaten, yes, but only to convince you to allow us the use of Corunyon without such disastrous sanctions."

"If you think I control national sanctions, you've vastly overestimated my importance."

"I was getting to that. You see, some Seinan factions have a vested interest in preventing us from having use of such a valuable port in Teralanth. They sent a legion of their own to prevent any peaceful negotiations, then began pushing for a siege. The Laenan navy had no choice but to set up a blockade before they did - they would have choked the life from the city."

Eraes regarded him coolly with no need to fake skepticism. It explained some of their movements, but it was also far too positive a story for her. The enemy commander sweated under her gaze and she could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he wondered how much she knew.

"So you see, this war is truly between the mansthein forces, not against you humans. Shifting for position has even given way to violence, though both legions maintain a polite fiction otherwise. But if you wish to lift the siege, then the fastest path is to work with us to break the stalemate..."

"I understand." Eraes sat forward, her fingers laced together across her knee. "You aren't convinced that the Laenan forces can gain the upper hand, so you're coming to the humans in the hope that they'll join your side and fight along with those blockading them."

"No, I would never assume so much!" Olaenaq shifted uncomfortably, which had been the purpose; now any request of his would seem an imposition. "But we are severely lacking in military intelligence. We cannot be seen to scout our ostensible allies, yet the sides are rather clearly cut, since our conflict has such a stark racial dimension. You are the only ones with a reason to be investigating both sides, so perhaps..."

"I'm sympathetic, commander, and I'm willing to feed you intelligence about the other mansthein army. But I need a better token of good will than making this library into neutral ground. If the Laenan blockade of Corunyon is really so unwilling, I want you to allow supply ships through."

"To do so would dishonor our naval capabilities... but I was sent here with the authority to grant it." Olaenaq smiled in triumph, but not toward her. She realized that he had considered the human side of the conflict nothing but terrain, and her only an obstacle on the way to his enemy. "A specific ship will be given a time and place to pass through, and in return we expect to receive useful intelligence. If both sides are true to their promises, we can meet again to exchange more."

"Agreed. I am glad to find you a reasonable man, Olaenaq."

They rose and he thrust his hand forward, so Eraes shook his hand in the Laenan style. Afterward she had to resist the urge to wipe off her hand, not because he had been repulsive, but because the gesture simply felt so strange. He left her with another scroll detailing further information, which she could reasonably hope was authentic.

In a single stroke, she had brought supplies to Corunyon, expedited the mansthein army's departure, and secured the safety of a historical site. The frustrating part was that it had come about through no real genius on her part, only basic competence and luck. So many ploys against the enemy, then this simply stumbled into her lap.

Still, she thought that she deserved to reward herself. After sending her soldiers to check for any mansthein trickery on the premises, Eraes allowed herself to wander deeper into the library. The wooden shelves were nearly a forest of their own, filled with scrolls and books, organized not in tidy rows but according to some ancient system. Overhead, the stone of the ceiling was blunted by ornate wooden panels expanding in all directions.

After growing somewhat disoriented, Eraes decided to search for a scholar. Even though the building was nearly abandoned, she eventually found a man in a traditional scholar's robe. He made her pause momentarily: he had golden eyes, like most of the noble families, yet unusually light brown skin. Eraes quickly decided it was irrelevant and nodded to him.

"Take me to the oldest section of your library. This is a personal request, not a command."

"Of course, commander. We are all grateful that you have kept the Deathspawn from burning the library."

She frowned at the surprising vehemence, but followed the scholar regardless. He led her through the spiraling corridors until at last they came to a secluded space lit by soft yellow sein spheres.

"This room contains the oldest of scrolls that have been copied in recent memory, so you may feel free to read them. If you wish to remove a scroll, simply ask any one of us for permission. But please do not attempt to force the door below, as the lower archives contain materials that have not been copied or indexed. Some of them might crumble at your touch."

"I understand. Thank you."

Once he left her, Eraes began to wander the shelves, occasionally brushing her fingers against the ornately carved rods. Each shelf was divided into many compartments, which were all given clear rune labels. She quickly learned the basic system of organization, ignoring the sections devoted to Teralanthan history and focusing on those that were truly obscure.

Here, the labels were names of past civilizations that no ancient human had ever used. If any records from those cultures had survived, they were written in unintelligible text and their true names were long forgotten. She had only dim knowledge of such ancient periods of history, and from her understanding most scholars were equally uncertain.

As she began to investigate specific scrolls, however, she found a few commentaries on ancient documents. One was a treatise on building castles that had been essential to the earliest Teralanthan builders. Another was a sein manuscript, the drawings of figures comprehensible even if the text meant nothing. Some of the present day's greatest arts traced their legacies back to these earliest scrolls.

Another illustrated scroll caught her eye and Eraes found herself poring over the drawings. What struck her as strange was that the figures did not look particularly Teralanthan to her. Their skin might be any color, given the stylization of the drawing, but their hair was unmistakably straight.

This scroll could only be a copy of a copy, and it had been placed in a compartment listed as unsolved mysteries. She had no guarantee that the scribes who had copied it had done so accurately, or even that it meant anything at all. It could have been a tale for children, for all she knew.

Or a Legend.

Shaking herself, Eraes turned away from the shelves. She had planned only to distract herself from her obligations for a time, yet she ended up carrying the two scrolls with her. Though she thought it might be difficult to find a scholar, she bumped into one almost as soon as she turned around.

"May I remove these two scrolls from the library?" Eraes asked. The man stared at her, then slowly shook his head.

"I am afraid that I am not who you presume I am."

"Then who are you?" Even as she snapped out the words, Eraes looked at him more carefully. His skin was more suited to Baelen or Salenkh than Teralanth, but she had assumed he was a traveling scholar. Yet now she saw that he wore the clothes of a common laborer, not a scholar's robes.

In his rough arms he carried a box of scrolls, which she now examined for a second time. The parchment was ancient and many of the rods were cracked... they looked far older than the scrolls she held in her hand. Though she knew nothing of him, she found herself suddenly suspicious.

"What's keeping you?" A disgruntled voice spoke from deeper in the shelves - not in Teralanthan, but in Araln, the language of the Eternal Empire. She whirled to track the voice and discovered a much stranger man approaching them.

Though he spoke Araln, he had pale skin and red hair going gray. His robes were completely unfamiliar to her, a gray cloth draped over his shoulders above black silk. That was less important than the fact that those robes were covered in dust, along with his shoes and the hands that carried a number of ancient scrolls. Given the cleanliness of everything she had seen, they could only have come from the restricted archives.

When he saw her he paused, eyes widening. Eraes turned to him and spoke sharply. "Are you a scholar studying at the Library of Unwan?"

"You could say that." He switched to Teralanthan despite her attempt at Araln, his grammar flawless and his accent unfamiliar. "I'm sorry if my friend here bothered you. He's a better scholar than he looks, I promise you, but he tends to focus too much on whatever lies before him."

"Just what are you studying in the ancient archives?" Eraes stepped toward him, but he stepped back smoothly. His companion shifted around her, carrying his box of scrolls to stand behind the strange scholar.

"Oh, whatever suits our interest. We'll be on our way, so please don't mind us."

"Stop right there." Eraes put as much authority into her voice as she could before they could go. "I think we need to speak to the head scholars about what exactly you intend to do with those scrolls."

The strange man made a face, like a child denied a treat, and started to turn away. His companion didn't move, however, speaking quietly in Araln. "She has only been polite to us. Why be rude?"

"Fine, if you insist." The scholar rolled his eyes and turned back to her, returning to Teralanthan. "You may think we are suspicious, but we are only scholars of curiosities. As it happens, we are visiting your lovely library because it contains a few old stories about the Legend. Nothing that would interest you."

Eraes stepped forward despite herself. "It does interest me. In my travels, I met a man claiming to be the Hero from those very stories."

"Huh." The scholar scratched at his scalp just along his receding hairline. "Why do you care?"

"Because..." She took a careful breath, considering. Though she had no reason to trust him with anything, and taking him before the authorities was the obvious choice, her mention of the Hero had been the first time that he had truly looked at her. "Because I believe those prophecies of the future may be true after all. Studying them may be our only way to avoid disaster."

To her surprise, the man snorted. "Prophecies? You really don't understand at all, do you?" He cast a mocking glance to his companion, who shrugged slightly apologetically. "You see? There's no point talking to her, not when she still thinks this is about prophecy. We have what we need, so let's just go."

"Stop!" Eraes rushed forward, not sure if she intended to physically hold them in place. The strange scholar grabbed his comrade and pulled him back, so her hand only grasped a single scroll sticking from the top of his box before they moved away. Then space folded on itself and the scholar voidwalked both of them from the library.

The rush of wind sent several scrolls falling from the shelves and swept her clothes around her. Scraps of parchment torn from ancient manuscripts fluttered inward as if to linger in their absence. Eraes had a thousand potential thoughts, but they refused to come together. Instead she slowly reached out, grasping one of the scraps of parchment.

Only a scrap. When she opened the scroll she had taken from them, it contained nothing but meaningless runes, so faded as to be nearly unreadable. Feeling fate close around her, Eraes turned on her heel and left the library as quickly as she could.

Part 5

Total Unity

Chapter 52

-

"I am the first of the sages. I am alone."

- The opening lines from First of the Sages, a manuscript of unclear provenance. Though found in a buried archive beneath the City Undying, it is written in a nearly forgotten script now found only in the Unaian Wilds.

-

"Almost home." Melal stretched his arms over his head as they walked. "I'm looking forward to a good meal and a real bed for once."

Home? Slaten regarded Melal with surprise, as the other man had expressed little affection toward Olondris and Mantyos. The appeals of food and bed were understandable enough, but Slaten had never felt like he belonged in Torgaadi. They might not be as closed as an Oken village, but they had their own way of life and he had never been part of it.

Every time they returned to the town, the surrounding hills became more familiar, but he could never call them home. He did feel himself begin to relax as they passed the gate, the errants nodding to them respectfully. They offered only a little stability, though perhaps it would hold, given the Hero's current state.

When he had set out from Mount Tmil, Melal had overflowed with purpose, reminding him of every Hero that came before and promising to wipe the north clean of all Deathspawn. He remained fixated for far longer than before, but with days upon days of travel, Melal gradually emerged from the Hero. Though he had roused himself when they reached the north, they'd soon learned that the mansthein forces around the mine were too numerous to be effectively fought.

After their most recent scouting attempt, which again left behind allied Bloodskin and errants, it seemed that Melal was content to relax. For once, Slaten agreed completely, though he hoped to use that time to train. He thought he might be near the point of being able to hear sein, and since Tani also lacked that sense, they worked together.

More importantly, he dreaded the day when they finally attacked the mine. They'd not heard from Celivia since their parting in the Sotunn Mountains, but he felt certain that she was waiting. Striving toward her own goals that seemed so much more important than an abstract seal. When they came together...

"Oh, look!" Tani veered from their usual path into the town, eyes more alight than the town normally deserved. As Slaten emerged from his thoughts, he realized that Torgaadi had changed.

The previous season known as summer had taken place while they were traveling through the mountains. Mantyos had suggested there were celebrations and told stories of them, but Slaten hadn't been sure if he was telling the truth. Now he found the town transformed, fading garlands strung overhead and flowers in the streets.

If this was only what remained, the festival itself must have been a significant celebration. Even though it was days past, they were offered small dumplings and cups at no charge. He smelled fhoka and wanted to refuse, thinking that it was too hot, but to his surprise found that the cup was cool. Chilled fhoka was a very different experience, but he enjoyed the bitterness as they walked.

Most strikingly, he saw metal ornaments throughout the town, often dangling from windows or carts. Many had been ornately crafted into symbols of grain, flowers, or tools. He tried to find a use for them at first, only to realize that they were simply art, crafted by smiths solely to show their skill. It seemed that following the harvest, everyone wanted to celebrate.

Taking part in the lingering festivities made it take them much longer to reach the house, but Slaten felt no urgency. His mind had been stretched too taut during the war, then plunged into training. The constant tension could well be preventing him from hearing his sein.

Before they reached the house, Olondris encountered them in the street. A garland of flowers hung from the tip of her pike. She smiled briefly when she saw all of them, but almost immediately turned away. "Come. Mantyos will be pleased to see you."

When they arrived, that proved true. "Finally, you return!" The smith tossed the hinge he was working on to the table and rose to greet them. Though he was faster than most, Slaten was still taken off guard as he was pulled into a tight hug. "I have grown so bored without you."

"His gifts are burning a hole through his forge." Olondris spoke sharply with a soft smile that lasted until they looked at her. Tani accepted the smith's embrace and then pulled back to see him better.

"Does that mean you've completed our weapons?"

"He'd better have!" Melal lunged in for the next hug, slapping Mantyos on the back. "We will return to battle soon, I can feel it in my blood."

Mantyos skipped Veron and embraced Laeri before he pulled away. "Yes, your weapons are complete, or nearly complete. Since you are so eager, young hero, let me begin with you."

The group moved to a dark corner of the smithy filled with various tools. But beneath them lay a iron chest that appeared to be bound to the floor. Olondris took a key that hung around her neck and unlocked it, then Mantyos bent inside and first raised a sword with both hands.

"This is a bloodsteel blade, forged in the strength of a Steeljudge. Wield it well."

Melal grabbed the crimson blade and swung it several times, forcing others to back away, before smiling in satisfaction. It was certainly a beautiful sword, a gleaming length of red steel ending in an ornate pommel with a crossguard that swept upward like wings.

"What do you have to eat?" Melal asked, wandering into the house. Mantyos gestured to a pot that sat on the low table before he returned to the chest to retrieve the next weapon.

"For you, Tani, I have crafted these three knives." Mantyos carefully handed the narrow blades to her by the points. "I believe that you would be best suited to soulsteel, but I do not understand your path well enough to know if you are ready for it. These are the next best thing, forged with some of my own sein. Your threads of sein should connect to them more easily."

"Thank you, Mantyos. They're beautiful." Tani looked over them reverently, but then stood back to watch what Mantyos would reveal next.

"For you, Veron, I have this delightful toy wagon tha-"

"Go fuck yourself," Veron spat.

"As it happens, one benefit of marriage is-"

"My blade is good enough." Veron tapped the hilt of her sword as she turned away.

"Yes, I knew you'd say that." Mantyos only grinned after her before he bent down again. This time he pulled forth a strange piece of metal, like an elongated cup, but forged of quality steel. Everyone stared at it until Mantyos carried it to Laeri. "This is for you."

"Me?" Laeri stared at it in shock, yet as her hands accepted the metal, she lifted her staff. Then Slaten understood: the metal was shaped to cover the lower end of it. "But I'm not a warrior..."

"No matter what path you choose, this could serve you well. It could strike, it will defend better than wood, or it can simply prevent your staff from wearing against the ground. We will need to work to affix it properly, but it will be a simple task."

"Thank you, Mantyos!" Laeri bobbed through several bows, nearly dropping the metal in the process.

That left only Slaten, who waited as Mantyos reached into the chest one final time. The blade he lifted was a strange one, as long as an Oken blade but straight and unusually thick. When the smith delivered it to him, Slaten accepted with both hands, examining the sword with honest bafflement.

"It is very finely crafted," he said, but they were only polite words. The steel appeared to be of excellent quality, and the edge was sharp, but if it had been hardened, it had been hardened poorly. Not only was the shape strange, the balance felt entirely wrong to him. Slaten glanced toward Mantyos, saw the mischievous spark in the man's eyes, and realized that it must be a jest he failed to understand. Normally he would have said nothing, but with everyone staring at him... "It is... very finely crafted shit?"

Mantyos roared with laughter and Tani smiled, so Slaten thought his fumbling had been successful, but he was still truly puzzled. He leaned to try to catch a glimpse of something else in the chest, except Olondris was already moving to lock it. Taking back the sword, Mantyos urged him to follow to the anvil.

"Your path is best suited to bloodsteel, but would you fight with the blood of another? I think not. This blade is nothing but raw ore compared to what it will become."

"Did you shape it like a sword simply for a jest?" Tani asked. Mantyos smiled over his shoulder.

"Partially that, partially habit, and partially for what is to come." His face grew serious and he gestured for Slaten to stand opposite him. "To complete the work, I need you to cut yourself with this edge. I recommend the back of your sword arm. Unless you have urgent business, I suggest we begin now."

Slaten looked around the room, catching up to the new development. Melal sat on one of the stools, scooping porridge into his mouth without any sign that he had heard. Olondris gave him a slight nod and Tani smiled encouragingly. Accepting that he might as well, Slaten pulled back his sleeve and then drew the sword across the back of his left arm.

"More," Mantyos urged. "Let your sein flow through you."

After cutting a second and third time, Slaten's own blood covered the edge. Mantyos quickly took it from him, a crimson cloth in his hands running over the blade. Instead of wiping the blood away, it spread it evenly over the steel. There was sein flowing in the smith's hands, but it was nothing like any combat technique Slaten had ever seen.

Still carrying the blade, Mantyos bent down next to his forge and opened his mouth. Though the breath that escaped his lips was soft, the flame flared to life. Slaten smelled his own blood, but suddenly he tasted it in his sein, felt it in his body, and heard it in his ears. As the blade entered the flame, the blood did not hiss, it began to glow.

"This will take some time." Mantyos spoke quietly, for once without any hint of playfulness in his voice. "Please eat without me."

Though the others moved to the table as Olondris brought out food that Melal hadn't eaten, Slaten remained by the forge. First he waited to allow Laeri to heal the cuts on his arm, but even after, he found his gaze drawn to the metal. He had never seen such a forging process, yet felt as though he should be present while steel was forged from his own blood. His entire body was warm, far warmer than the fires in the smithy merited.

When the steel was white hot, yet still retaining a tinge of crimson, Mantyos turned back to him. "Go, Slaten. You have given enough."

He lowered his head and returned to the others, accepting the plate that had been left for him. Laeri and Melal were talking about the seals, while Olondris and Tani spoke in a quieter conversation. When he sat down beside them, Olondris gave him the slightest nod.

"I was telling Tani that I believe there is some truth to these stories the raiders tell of wolves. I have never encountered this problem, because errants always have overflowing sein, but I believe you are correct. You need a deeper understanding of sein to sustain yourself."

Slaten nodded, the confirmation doing little to comfort him. "What do you suggest?"

"You are already on the correct path, seeking to better understand yourself. But I have suggestions for both of you. Slaten, as you have mastered the hammer stroke so well, I believe that the reinforcing techniques from the Ironmonger's Path would be beneficial to you. Tani, you use your strings of sein well, but not exactly as an errant would."

"Forgive me." Tani dangled a throwing knife from her hand and stared at the invisible line of sein. "I accepted the wisdom of your suggestion, but I seek to be Nelee above all. Instead of adopting the errant methods of sein, I have used my own."

Olondris merely shrugged. "I noticed. What I observed is that your physical techniques and your sein techniques are somewhat different. For the threads of sein you create, I believe a slightly different method would be more appropriate."

They continued speaking about technique and Slaten fully enjoyed the rest of the meal. There was more than enough time for training in the evening, but Olondris said that she needed to conduct business. Melal was snoring upstairs, Tani had gone to practice her sein threads on her own, and Laeri was experimenting with her newly heavy staff. He was alone.

When he went to Mantyos, he saw the smith had stopped his work. The steel had been reformed into a thinner version of an Oken blade, but it was merely a steel bar. Though Slaten was not intimately familiar with the work of a smith, he knew that it would need to be ground to an edge, hardened, and tempered.

The steel was not bright red like Melal's blade, but as dark as dried blood.

"I hope you don't expect too much." Mantyos spoke quietly from his seat. "This sword will not split mountains or swing with the sound of thunder. It will be a pale shadow of the blade I could forge if you had a Steeljudge's body. But... Olondris and I have greatly enjoyed your company. I wanted to give you something before you go."

"Do you think it will be soon?"

The old smith's hair swung back and forth. "I cannot say for certain, but we hear rumors of movement from Espal. If they do act against Portant, the instability will ripple through all the rest. If that occurs, I believe your Hero will decide to strike."

It seemed very likely. Slaten regarded the thought grimly as his eyes ran over the dark red steel. Before he could fall too deep into his thoughts, Mantyos slapped him on the arm.

"Go out and enjoy yourself, boy, leave this to me! Maybe go order a sheath. If you think you're getting one from me, you have another thing coming!"

Slaten smiled at the smith's laughter and rose to his feet. The point was well-taken, even if he did not intend to enjoy himself by normal standards. Waiting would accomplish nothing. He was already doing the most that he could do in his own training, but that was only one aspect of a far more complex situation.

Leaving the house, Slaten instead traveled across town. He could not say with certainty where Natala would be at this hour, but he needed to speak with her. They had spent much time together on their journey back to the Maenhu, but whenever they reached a trading post or a town, she vanished.

He found her at an inn she'd mentioned, the Behemoth's Perch. Though he couldn't read the Reili on the sign, it featured a drawing of a behemoth balanced on an improbably small tree branch. The inn was crowded with merchants and other wealthy travelers, not an errant in sight. When he finally spotted her seated in a corner booth, he stopped to stare.

Natala sat in front of a Yenith board, practically vibrating with excitement as her eyes danced over the pieces. One hand reached out toward a piece, then retreated, while her other hand tangled some of her hair around one finger. She wore raider cloths, but only three layers that clung close to her body.

Merchants crowded around her, both men and women. Many of the men watched her admiringly, as well as one of the women, but Natala nudged the arm of the young woman at her side and said something that made them both laugh. Her aura was sexual, yet utterly without self-consciousness, as if she was unaware of it.

Which meant it was safe to assume she was completely aware of it. Slaten approached, unable to find any flaw in her act. He thought he saw her gaze flicker to him once, but she showed no sign that she recognized him. Wondering if she would pretend not to know him, Slaten simply waited.

"Oh, my poor behemoth..." Natala's hand wavered as she moved her piece between several potential places, all of which were poor choices. A beginner might want to preserve a strong piece, but any competent player would see that sacrificing the behemoth could win her the southwestern mountain.

At last Natala made her move, though she immediately groaned as her opponent captured one of her elite pieces. The older merchant laughed and patted her on the hand. "Always look over the entire board, my dear."

"You think you've won, but not yet!"

Natala did fight back, earning a few cheers of support from the surrounding audience as she claimed the central mountain. Her sloppy strategy made it only a matter of time before all three of her elites had been captured and the game was complete.

"I really thought I'd win that one." Natala pouted good-naturedly, but soon smiled as she accepted a drink from one of the merchants surrounding the game. Her opponent smiled and patted her hand again, though his fingers lingered on her wrist.

All at once Natala sat upright, staring at him. "Oh, there you are!" Her astonishment turned all attention to Slaten, who took a step back as everyone looked at him. Natala struggled to her feet, wavering a bit as she tried to push past the others. "To help secure all your orders, I've been hiring errants from the deep south. We... ah, we need to discuss payment..."

Though the other merchants objected, urging her to stay, Natala continually insisted. She tried to put the pieces of the Yenith board away but wavered as if drunk. Eventually the others helped her and Natala tucked it under one arm as she approached. She tripped and he had to catch her, which made her laugh. Her weight against him pressed them toward one of the tavern's back chambers, so he supported her there, feeling jealousy boring into his back.

"Close the curtain," Natala said as soon as they entered.

As soon as he did so, another curtain passed over her face and took all of the giddy cheerfulness with it. Natala sat as straight as a sword, no longer tilting her hips or arching her back. Seeing that emotionless, merciless gaze meeting his, Slaten felt the tension ease away.

"Sit and play." Natala gestured to the seat opposite her and began setting up the Yenith board. Slaten lowered himself into the seat and worked in silence.

While moving the pieces, he realized for the first time that she wasn't using the cheap board from the Bloodskin village. This Yenith board had been ornately carved so that it looked almost like a landscape, though one with unnatural lines and flat squares. He had been completely unaware, and it surprised him that he had missed such a detail, but when he had looked at the board, he had only seen the positions.

Once all the pieces were in place, Natala looked up at him seriously. "We should have privacy here. Did you need to speak about something important?"

"We weren't sure if you were in Torgaadi when we returned. I only wanted to talk."

"Good." Natala displayed a brief but authentic smile, or at least part of him wanted to accept it as authentic. "I grow quite weary of that game, so you really are my savior. I wanted to speak with you as well, but please let me have at least one game of Yenith."

Slaten nodded and made a conventional opening move, soldier to mountain edge. "I was surprised to see you behave that way. I thought that you wanted a different sort of life."

"I dislike it, but I have few resources available to me. My body is one of them, so I will exploit it as necessary." As soon as she finished speaking, Natala snapped a soldier piece of her own into position with none of the hesitation he'd seen earlier.

"Don't underestimate yourself. I can feel that you've gained some true understanding of your sein."

"But I will never be like you or Tani." Without stopping in the middle of a movement, Natala gave him a slight smile. "According to some errants, there are sein arts that can prevent one from becoming drunk. Do you know any you could teach me?"

"I am unfamiliar with such, but I believe Olondris could help you." With the opening four moves complete, Slaten needed to observe the board more carefully. He adopted a highly defensive strategy so that he could focus more on their words. "Have you been pretending to drink?"

"That would be futile, because predators are skilled at tracking how much you drink. So I am quite drunk at the moment. Please take advantage of me on the Yenith board."

She certainly didn't seem drunk, though Slaten almost immediately reversed his opinion. Natala might not act like the common drunks he knew, but something in her harsh edges had changed. Some revealed their true selves when they drank, and it seemed that her true self watched with eyes of stone.

That observation immediately led him to another. "You wore Portantese clothing on our first visits here, but now you wear raider cloths. Because you're representing a mountain clan now?"

"Good." Natala gave him a very strange smile as she cracked another piece into position. "Yes, I am an intelligent but naive merchant bringing goods from the Sotunn Mountains and beyond. Not an easy enough mark for most to suspect me, but ignorant enough that they might enter into an unequal relationship as a matter of... guidance."

"And you intend to exploit that?"

"Not at first. Even a poor price in Portant will still become a significant profit for the clans. But yes, once I have learned enough of the details that compose their lives, I will exploit them. Superior quality wool will go to different merchants, specific caravans will be lost to raiders, and so on. It should be quite profitable in the end."

"You're trading that wool you brought north?"

"Among other things. Ombo wool is valuable, but the true value is the leverage gained among the clans, which can in turn become partial control of the commodity." Natala paused, no longer looking at the board. She reached into her inner cloth and dropped a sack with a wooden clink. "By the standards of the Portantese, I hold greater value than the entire Bloodskin clan."

"By their standards." Slaten picked up his master piece, but only to demonstrate. "What value do the merchants place on the strength of the Bloodskin men?"

"That is exactly it." Natala smiled once more, a bit like an adult when a child had given the correct answer. "They do put a price on strength here. Ironlords or Steeljudges of any rank can be hired, so to the merchants they are only another asset to be measured in coin. They view the respect and codes of masters to be nothing but an inconvenience, like the customs of unfamiliar lands."

"I don't think you fully believe that."

"No. If war broke out, their coin would be worth far less. A warrior could still simply take what they possess. But I was incorrect as well. Their coin could purchase strength enough to destroy a clan, or they could reduce errants to poverty. Wealth or strength or wisdom are all only currencies with varying value depending on the context."

"Or no value except what we give them."

Another brief smile. "You could say that."

Slaten was silent for a time, considering the board. He knew he would lose, as Natala was carefully pressing back his defensive strategy and claiming pieces when she could, but he didn't care. "I understand what you intend to do in the Maenhu, but what is your strategy in the mountains? If your goods are stolen there, none of the rest will work."

"For that, I require someone else. I will most likely form a permanent alliance with Mohuno and the Steelbones when I return. On their present course, they will eventually be crushed by a stronger clan. But if they can become something more than a raiding clan, they can thrive, and I believe Mohuno is willing to do that. I was wondering what you thought."

"What I thought?" Slaten felt like a fool repeating words in front of Natala, but she only watched him, gaze taking in everything.

"Yes. I would like your opinion."

"I... do not know Mohuno well. He is a capable warrior, unrefined but stronger in sein than I am. Tani believes that he is sincere in wanting to help others, but shortsighted in his vision. Perhaps you could assist him in that. Why do you ask?"

"Sometimes hearing another opinion is a useful mirror to my thoughts." Natala shrugged, and it was the first movement since they had entered the private room that he was certain was false.

"I wish you well. I would like to support you, but given how we intend to travel north..."

"We may walk separate paths, Slaten, but I do not think we will be parting forever. I want to help you as well, and so I have been making inquiries regarding the state of the Wahleenese mine. The mansthein may seek to make it independent, but they still rely on local merchants."

Slaten sat forward, ignoring when she captured another of his pieces. He could have asked her what she meant, but instead only stared at her, waiting for her to finish explaining.

"The mansthein raise their own meat near the mine, but they cannot supply enough feed for their animals. I have discovered which Portantese merchant assists them, and who in turn supplies him. With money in the hands of the correct merchants, some of the wagons passing through the defenses could include more than animal feed."

"Don't tell Melal." Slaten was surprised at his initial reaction and even Natala raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"Your method could help us enter the mine without another costly battle, but if we leave too quickly, there will still be a price. One Melal would be more than happy to pay. It would be better to wait as long as we can, until Melal insists upon leaving no matter what, then you can enter with your plan."

"And you think he will believe that coincidence?" Natala's lips twisted slightly. "I knew that was a foolish question the moment I began speaking it, but my mind couldn't catch my voice."

"Not only will he believe it, the coincidence will make him believe that you're part of the Legend." Slaten tried to make his gaze every bit as serious as her own. "You have yet to see how many the Hero can kill. Better if he believes you are on his side."

"An apt warning. Thank you, Slaten. For letting me see what I can become."

"I look forward to it."

They played in silence for a time, but there was little point. He had delayed Natala's victory by a great many turns, but he had captured few of her pieces and now his were hemmed into a single corner of the board. After examining his remaining options, Slaten knocked over his own master in defeat.

"There is no point continuing."

Natala gave him an obviously false pout. "Not going to fight until the end?"

"Not in this. Was that even interesting for you?"

"Oh, it was a relief compared to the games I've played out there. Intentionally losing by just the right amount was only interesting for a brief time. It might be challenging with truly incompetent players, but if I lost to them, others would suspect, so I'm left to do nothing but play out the tedium of it all."

"I believe I am a better Shiil player. That might be more interesting for you."

"I would enjoy another game." Natala smiled at him and he wanted desperately to believe that those brief expressions were authentic. His skepticism turned against his own recoil and he set it all aside, simply allowing himself to smile back. Regardless, he had enjoyed their conversation.

Slaten didn't want to leave, but they didn't start setting up the pieces again. Natala's eyes gave no trace of her thoughts, but when she spoke again, she sounded surprisingly thoughtful.

"I've found that merchants are not like warriors. Those who fight are always aware of their strength and those who are stronger than them. But merchants... each believes that they are far more clever than their fellows." Natala tightened a fist around her own lancer piece. "All of them seem dull to me, but I would be a fool to believe I am not the same. This world no doubt has others who are truly applying significant potential."

"To making a profit?"

"Perhaps some. But I worry about those who seek something higher."

Chapter 53

-

"For a time, I believed that I was mad. After many broken years, I came to understand that I was born to walk paths that do not exist. The Hero will appear in the fullness of [translation uncertain] and sages will guide Him, but He has not yet been born. All my wisdom is beautiful and meaningless, perhaps more beautiful for being meaningless."

- excerpt from First of the Sages

-

Though her band had received leave to recover after the battles in the Sotunn Mountains, Celivia had rejected hers. Instead she had focused almost entirely on understanding the present political balance and how exactly Zeitai Kreue could run his pits within the borders of Portant. The rest of her time was spent training, which was far more productive than her attempts at politics.

Her hope had been that there could be some way to disrupt the balance between the three human nations so that Portant would cast Kreue out. She doubted she had the power to influence so much, but it seemed plausible that the Hero could.

Unfortunately, everything had already been thoroughly disrupted. The circles of power in Castle Wahles were shattered, there was talk of alliances with human Wahleen, fighting often broke out on the border with Portant, and Espal seemed poised to move at any moment. By the time she and her band were transferred out to the pits under Jeraeli, Celivia only understood how difficult it would be to impact the broader political balance.

Now that she was present, she hoped that she could make a difference directly. Celivia had yet to meet with Jeraeli, which frustrated her more than a little. The other woman might be serving under the Zeitai, but she could have stood up to him. She could have done something.

Most of the other mansthein seemed to consider the pits a mixed assignment. They were deep in human territory and there was always the chance that the errants would close on them, errants coming together like iron jaws. Until then, it involved less fighting than many positions. Most soldiers didn't know the details, but they also had the sense that the mine was important because the Zeitai visited. And unfortunately, many of them viewed the captive women in the pits as a benefit.

She had forbidden her band from going below and she thought that most of them respected her enough to obey. Some even had the bare minimum decency to dislike the pits, though with varying degrees of self-congratulation. Splinters never outright disobeyed in front of her, but he made certain that she knew when he disappeared.

Celivia finished eating her meal, which still had a strange taste to it. The supply lines out to the mine were almost as bad as in the mountains, so she'd taken up her old habit. She thought that Jeraeli had access to better food, but didn't want to beg her for resources. Even if Ghalia was wrong about other things, she was correct that becoming indebted to Jeraeli wouldn't help her.

Before she left, she checked for every member of her band, as had become her habit. She could see Big Ragh pushing a large wagon of rocks up one of the slopes, though she wasn't certain if he was helping the workers or simply training. He embraced physical work, but he needed to focus more on his sein if he wanted to truly develop.

Otherwise, the only two she saw were Ghasfik and Puga, who had been resting as well. Celivia cleaned her teeth with her knife and then walked over to speak to her second. "Any word from Fijn?"

"Not yet, Kaen." Ghasfik gave no more information, so she could only hope that Fijn would return from his assignment soon. "If you're just asking about the band, Brifik's condition is unchanged and Huthur is currently making repairs in one of the tunnels."

"Yes, that was my question." Celivia smiled at her predictability, though thinking of Brifik was never a warm thought. "Krafan and Splinters?"

"I believe Krafan was sent to run messages, and I don't know where Splinters is." Or more likely, Ghasfik did know, but was polite enough not to say. His regular absences troubled her for more reasons than the fact of what he was doing.

"I'm here, Kaen." Puga waved unnecessarily from two paces away. "Do you have anything for me to do? These guard positions are boring as shit."

"I suggest you take them as an opportunity to train without disruption."

"Maybe I'll do that." Puga nodded agreeably, but she suspected that he wouldn't. "But I wanted to ask... is it true that you're going against the Zeitai? I know you don't want us using the pits, but would you really try to end them?"

Only years of discipline allowed Celivia to prevent her eyes from focusing on him. She managed to reply in a neutral tone. "The Zeitai wants something related to the Legend that he thinks can be mined here. Everything else is secondary. But yes, I would prefer it if the practice was ended."

"I'm not arguing, Kaen! I just wanted to know if I was getting myself into something nasty."

"We're part of the mansthein army, Nin." That was not an answer to his question at all, but it was enough to make Puga agree. Since speaking further with them would only frustrate her and she'd accounted for every member of her band, Celivia departed.

Normally she would train alone or investigate the mine in further detail, but that day Celivia was too lost in her thoughts to focus. It was only after she had wandered partway around the side of the mine that she realized that she was walking toward the building that contained Jeraeli's office. Celivia decided to continue walking. Even if she and Jeraeli weren't fully allied in everything, the other woman was a friend. Perhaps speaking to her directly could leap past the bureaucracy.

As she stared over the mine and thin men struggling within, Celivia wondered about what she would do if all limitations were stripped away. She knew what Reina's solution would be, and it would involve a large number of decapitations. Ghalia's solution was no longer clear to her, and her own felt equally muddled.

Kreue might be the source of the problem, but he was supported by all the officers under him. She strongly suspected that the same officials who would wage a war for the sake of trade might also encourage the idea of the pits, as disposable slaves could be very profitable for their owners. But even beyond them, there were so many other mansthein who knew and did nothing. Some like Big Ragh, who meant well but hadn't thought about it very hard. Others like Krafan, who supported her personally but not in any of the ways that mattered.

She failed to resolve that conundrum in her walk across the mine.

Though the local headquarters were not well-guarded, Celivia was surprised to find a thick carpet when she stepped inside. There were several statues along the walls as well, which Celivia vaguely thought might be the style in Ith Silvaros. It was possible that those had been there from the beginning, but she suspected not.

No one stopped her when she walked to the second floor, but when she entered the largest office, Jeraeli wasn't present. Celivia turned back, only to find herself facing the woman's partner. The Feras mansthein gave a leonine yawn, showing off a mouth of sharp teeth, and regarded her sleepily.

"You're one of Jeraeli's friends... do you need something?"

Celivia gestured toward the office in the sort of useless gesture born only of awkward interactions. "She isn't there."

"You'll find her on the balcony. Last door on the right."

After thanking him, Celivia hurried down the hallway to the door he'd indicated. She hadn't noticed a balcony on her approach. When she opened the door, she saw that the balcony was on the far side, looking over the hills of Portant without a view of the mine. Though not a useful vantage point, she had to admit that usefulness was generally not the reason for such things.

"Celi, welcome!" Jeraeli had been standing at the railing but now turned, her robes spinning around her. Though it seemed as if she'd spent a great deal of time on those robes, she also looked much more comfortable in her Catai body. Even Jeraeli trained more frequently than some members of her band. "Would you like something to eat? I've just had some wondrous meats delivered - they have creatures with great antlers in the north of Portant and I've longed to try them."

"I wish I'd known before I ate."

"Oh, yes, the normal rations are awful, aren't they?" Jeraeli frowned as she took Celivia's hand and led her to the railing. "You've come to talk, then. This won't be an enjoyable conversation, will it?"

"I would like that, but..." Celivia's gaze slid around the side of the building as if she could still feel the pits yawning beneath them. "You know what I'm going to ask. How can you stay here when there are hundreds of women being used as livestock? The men aren't being paid or fed enough either."

"Please understand my position, Celi. I'm here solely because of the Zeitai's good graces. My duty is to execute his orders for this place."

"I do understand that. I'm standing by and doing nothing too, I just..." Celivia wanted to say that it was a knife in her gut while Jeraeli sat back and enjoyed herself, but cut off the hatred. Her emotions didn't matter, only results. "The Zeitai cares more about finding whatever he wants than the breeding pits. You could free them with the excuse that they're needed as workers."

Jeraeli turned away and placed both hands on the railing. "Not yet, Celi. But if I do find this artifact, I might be promoted to Archcaptain. Then I'd be able to do something."

"I tell myself that too, but we aren't speaking of tragedies half the world away in Fein Karnak. This is happening literally beneath us."

"You don't understand how angry the Zeitai is right now. Not only did the campaign in the mountains fail, at the same time an essential Portantese Steelmaster died under mysterious circumstances. The very existence of this pit is being threatened and he knows it. If I disobey, he could very well take my life, and then there would be no hope for those poor women."

"Could we use that? Portant might be appeased if we reduced the number of mansthein here. They'd likely be unhappy to know an army is being bred within their borders."

"Celi." Though Jeraeli used the shortened name, her voice held no companionship. When she turned, her eyes glistened with a sorrow her tone hadn't suggested. "I want the same thing you do, Celi, but what can I actually do without compromising myself? We could improve the conditions for the women, perhaps..."

"But you can't improve the only condition that matters. A plush cage is still a cage." Looking at the other woman was suddenly too much, so Celivia closed her eyes and focused on the wind around her. "Change is possible, especially here. Even in Fein Karnak, Zeitai Teirsan was able to help many leave the p-"

"Yes, I investigated that program after I heard you had been part of it. You talk like the Zeitai opened the pits and let everyone free, but it isn't anything like that. Less than a tenth leave via his program, only those with the most potential. If a Zeitai can only save a few, what do you expect us to be able to do?"

Though Celivia also wanted to ask Teirsan why he hadn't done more, she pushed that old question back down. "It didn't end there. We were allowed to take others with us, and some of the smaller pits were bought out and liberated. It was something."

"Very well." Jeraeli closed her eyes and stepped forward to embrace Celivia, who remained still. "Please wait a little longer, Celi, until we find what we need. Then I'll have the leverage I need to convince the Zeitai and all the others."

"I understand why you would choose that, and I hope it works. But I'm going to talk to him the next time he visits the mine."

Jeraeli pulled back, her hands on Celivia's shoulders, Catai claws very sharp. There was something even sharper in her eyes, then Jeraeli closed them as if deeply sad. "You're making a mistake, Celi, and I worry for you. But it's your mistake, if you choose to make it."

She turned away, and Celivia knew she was dismissed. Though she could have said more, the argument was over. She left the building without a farewell and stormed back to her barracks. Her mind rotated through scenarios and arguments, but whenever she won a point against the imaginary Jeraeli, it only emphasized her failure in reality.

Celivia intended to vent all of her rage into training, and she was so focused that she almost missed her own band calling for her. She did her best to wipe her expression clean of the encounter and turned, but it was no mere greeting. Fijn stood beside Ghasfik, not as worn as he should have been given his travels.

"Did you learn anything?" she asked as she approached.

"Complete bust, Kaen." Though Fijn shrugged, his eyes said the exact opposite. "I'll give you a report if you insist on it."

"I do insist. We're not doing anything else waiting here." Celivia followed him as they moved away from the barracks.

She had expected simply to step far enough away that Fijn could tell her what he had learned in secret, but he kept walking. They rounded the side of the barracks and continued, far enough that Celivia kept a hand on her whip. Though she trusted Fijn enough to give him the assignment, something was clearly wrong.

When a man stepped out from behind a tree, she gripped the handle, but she stopped when she saw who it was.

"Good day." Daekhan pulled the skewer from between his lips and regarded her seriously. "Sorry to meet like this."

"Why are you here, Daekhan?" She then turned her attention to Fijn, but he raised his hands defensively.

"I don't know, Kaen, he just found me."

"Your investigations in Castle Wahles attracted attention. Some of it negative, some of it apathetic, but also mine." Daekhan began spinning the skewer over his fingers as if he was relaxed, but she saw how he placed his feet. Not as if he intended to fight, but his legs screamed tension. "You're right, another group of women is being brought to the mine. But they're not being taken by voidwalking - Kreue doesn't want it recorded in the official logs and he doesn't have enough personal Voidwalkers."

Though she let go of her whip, Celivia was more suspicious than before. "They're being taken over land? How?"

"There's a human by the name of Yetano who acts as a merchant, but his real profits come from smuggling across Portant. Anything that needs to be taken illegally, he'll move it without asking questions. What's relevant to you is that the next group of women will be stopping at a specific location prior to being transported to the mine. A location I can give you, one with a limited guard."

"Why are you telling us this?"

Daekhan regarded her quietly for a time, skewer still spinning, then abruptly he tossed it up and caught it between his teeth. "Mansthein have lived in Wahleen for a long time. We follow the Zeitai... but there are some who remember before Kreue came, when we worked together with the humans. Some may not care, but even the traditionalists started paying attention when Kreue began to enslave the weakest men and women. For our benefit, of course, but his benevolence is worthless. Everyone is weak to a Zeitai."

Celivia found herself smiling more than she had intended, and she thought she saw a bit of a reaction in Daekhan's cautious gaze. "You know what I intend to do with this information. And I don't think you intend to risk your position over this."

"My job is to distribute resources and this is where I think they should be distributed. Assuming that you're willing to listen." Hand on his skewer, Daekhan regarded her coolly until she asked the only question that could come next.

"Where?"

Chapter 54

-

"This would seem to be a jest of fate, yet the very wisdom that haunts me also forbids me any comforting lies. I was simply born before the Era of Legend, before... [illegible section] ...as one cursed to wax poetic about fruit without ever taking a single bite. A malformed twig of destiny."

- excerpt from First of the Sages

-

Tani was practicing using threads of sein to swing her throwing knives when she felt it. Her ears heard the door slam and her sein senses recognized Melal, but she felt something deeper than that. He wasn't returning to eat and sleep. In a sense, he wasn't returning at all, only the Hero within him.

"It is time!" If anyone else hadn't noticed, Melal's shout left no doubt. Tani hastened inside to urge him to quiet down before some mansthein sympathizer heard them. As the others gathered, she learned from Melal that some mansthein soldiers had been withdrawn to deal with a conflict in Wahleen and more had been drawn away by a group of his raiders. He wanted to gather them together and march on the mine.

She took a deep breath and hoped that their preparation had been enough. When Slaten entered, she glanced at him and he only nodded. They gathered in the middle of the smithy, with Mantyos watching them curiously and Olondris lurking in the corner behind him.

"Now we need only initiate a battle, then we can sweep in and claim the seal." Melal slammed a fist down on the table and looked around the group. "My Bloodskins are divided, but we can force Portant to enter as well. There is an outpost of errants south of the mine, so if we lead them to believe they are under attack from the Deathspawn, the mine will be completely open to us."

"Exactly how," Olondris asked, "will you lead them to believe that?"

"Are you challenging me?" Melal leapt to his feet, eyes blazing. Though Olondris refused to back down, Tani felt a flicker of fear in herself at what might happen if the two of them fought. The light seemed to cling to Melal more with every heartbeat, leaving his unpredictability unbounded by reason.

Just as Melal took a step toward her, the door slammed open. Natala entered with a finger raised in the air.

"Brave Hero! I have just now discovered a plan that will allow you to reach the mine!"

Tani sighed, and she saw Slaten switch to the flat gaze equivalent of rolling his eyes. But Melal turned, at first frowning as if he didn't even recognize her, then smiling. "Slaten's woman comes through for us after all! What is this plan of yours?"

"The foolish Deathspawn cannot support themselves, so they rely on human servants to feed them. One of those servants has bravely agreed to risk his own life to smuggle you into the mine." Though Natala lacked the unnatural resonance of the Hero's voice, she mimicked his cadence and even stood with a similar posture. If it had been Mohuno, Tani would have been worried, but Natala was... Natala.

Though the plan would involve them hiding in wagons of supplies, as presented it appealed to Melal. He soon agreed, though he said very little about what he intended to do with the raiders camping outside the town. She wasn't sure if the others noticed, but it worried her. Sometimes the Hero's lack of concern for strategy fell into place in the light of the Legend, but that might be little comfort.

She didn't find any way to voice her concern before Melal decided that the new plan was acceptable. Natala convinced him that it would be best to leave at dawn, so they had the rest of the day to prepare. The evening was a frenzy of planning and organization, then the morning a dawn of farewells.

Slaten spoke quietly with Natala in the training yard, but Tani didn't feel the need to say more than farewell. Most of the others would come along with her, leaving only Olondris and Mantyos. She found them watching the others, their arms around each other's waists. The affection might have warmed her heart, if she hadn't seen a hint of tension before she approached.

"Tani!" Mantyos reached out to touch her shoulder, but she lunged in to hug him.

"I'm glad I met both of you, truly." Tani gripped hard and Mantyos gently patted her on the head. With someone else, it might have been demeaning, but not with him at that moment. "I hope that nothing we do ever brings any trouble for you."

"Don't talk that way." Olondris regarded her with a slightly more affectionate version of her stare. "Come back alive."

"I will return if possible, but I don't know what direction our journey will take us next." Tani clasped her hands together over one of her new throwing knives and bowed deeply. "Thank you for everything you have given me."

Though Tani wanted to embrace Olondris as well, it wouldn't have felt right. The older woman did smile at her, so that was enough for Tani. As she went to join the others by the entrance, she noted that Olondris gave Slaten an almost-hug with one arm briefly around his shoulders. She only smiled, wondering if those who stared grimly at everything shared a special bond.

Their farewell was marred by Melal loudly arguing that Olondris should join them because they needed her strength. She simply continued refusing, never raising her voice, and eventually he stomped away to give commands to his raiders. It was the wrong way to end the relationship, so Tani resolved that whatever happened, she would one day return to the couple.

As they left Torgaadi, Tani felt a bit of the Hero's hope begin to infect her. She was prepared, and she knew that Slaten's training had taken him close to a breakthrough. Laeri tapped the new metal end of her staff against the ground, humming a song to herself. Veron slouched behind them, one hand on her sword. When she left the town, she dropped her rank signifier and ground it under a heel.

Tani had expected to travel along with a large group of raiders, but there were none in sight. Melal simply stared at their group, nodded, and then began walking to the northeast. So it seemed for now, it would be only the five of them. The five who had stood together at the top of Mount Tmil, though she struggled to believe that the fact could truly mean anything.

According to Slaten, Natala's plan required them to travel for some distance before meeting with the merchant's contacts, in order to further keep suspicion away from Olondris and Mantyos. She agreed with that rationale, but it meant a long walk in silence. The first time Laeri tried to speak, Melal shot her a burning white glare, and there wasn't a second.

Walking together toward their destination was dramatic for a short time, but soon only Melal strode forward, the realities of the long walk clinging to the rest of them. Tani focused inward and simply continued to prepare. She needed her sein not only to be powerful, but to be truly herself. It was likely that she would face both violent threats to her body and beautiful threats to her soul.

Eventually, however, they reached the trading post that was their destination. There were only a few merchants there at the moment, but one of them was a man leading three large wagons lashed to behemoths. When Melal gave him the sign, he straightened and spoke in a low voice.

"All of you can ride as we head east to the switching point. Place near the edge of the Regent's Forest called Smuggler's Rest. There, the wagons will be loaded with feed and you'll need to hide beneath them."

"And you can take us to the Deathspawn mine?" Melal asked.

"All the way to the bottom. You won't regret hiring Yetano." The wagoneer gestured for them to follow. No matter which direction they traveled, the sun lanced into Tani's eyes.

~ ~ ~

As her group ran, Celivia carefully reached into her pack and removed another piece of the foul-tasting meat. It wasn't difficult, given that they ran only at a pace Fijn and Big Ragh could manage, and even the flavor didn't bother her. Since she had become active again, or perhaps because they were finally taking action, she had been ravenously hungry. The constant eating had led her to put on weight, but she knew that she could burn it off when she returned to physical training.

According to Daekhan, their human contact ran most of his smuggling operations through an obscure location. Not found deep within a cave or atop a mountain, but simply in a sandy region to the south of Regent's Forest. Barely useful to farmers, but a convenient place to move illicit goods to Throne Wahles or toward the east or west. Or, in their case, to smuggle mansthein women to the breeding pits.

Though she was grateful for Daekhan's support, she wished that he could have offered something more concrete than information. After considering all her options carefully, Celivia had decided to take only two members of her band along with her. She mostly trusted Ghasfik, but needed her second to manage the others. Huthur had also been a strong choice, but she felt that she didn't know him well enough even though they were on good terms.

This would have been the perfect moment to have Ghalia and Reina with her, far more than during the fighting in the mountains. But she had burned all her favors attempting to gain a promotion and this was what she had left.

Far too soon, they needed to stop for the others to take a break. They sat beneath a flowering tree and she distributed some of the meat that was still good. Big Ragh tore into it messily while Fijn just sat back against the tree and caught his breath.

Simply sitting there, knowing that those women would soon be transported like prisoners while she waited, left Celivia burning inside. Worst of all would be if she could do nothing. Though the caravan could not have a large guard in order to remain a secret, the human merchant no doubt had security and several mansthein warriors would travel along with the women. She wouldn't throw their lives away on a battle they couldn't win.

The best solution would be to wait for the wagons to leave Smuggler's Rest, then capture them in an empty region of Portant. She hesitated to kill the human smugglers, since they bore no part of the guilt, but she needed the strike to be perfect. Done properly, the women would simply vanish into thin air, and if it took long enough for their disappearance to be discovered, no one would even suspect her absence.

All of that was presuming that they could successfully help the women once they were free. The battle itself might be simple, but the challenges after it would be the true test.

Truthfully, the void at the end of her plan should have stopped her from even beginning, if she hadn't felt so driven to act in some way. The women might not be able to cross the border into Wahleen, but Celivia thought that they might be able to dodge the errants until they reached the river. There, if they could pass as Wahleenese mansthein, they could find normal enough lives.

"Okay, I'm ready!" Big Ragh struck his chest with his fist. "I can't run like you, but I recover fast!"

"Then we need to go." Celivia rose rapidly... and was shocked as her head spun in a way that it hadn't for years. She staggered, barely catching herself before collapsing.

"Maybe you were pushing yourself harder than I thought!" Though Big Ragh tried to laugh it off, Fijn immediately moved closer.

"Are you alright, Kaen?"

Celivia waved him off and straightened. She felt strangely hot and dizzy, but she could easily outrun both of them. "It's nothing. We need to hurry if we're to intercept the wagons in time."

"I don't think that it's nothing." Fijn regarded her grimly. "I won't tell you your limits, but I insist you take time to check. Maybe the rotten meat is affecting you after all."

As much as she wanted to hurry, Celivia accepted that he spoke sense. She gathered herself together and drifted into her own sein, focusing on how it pulsed through her body. Her mind hovered within her own flame, which burned stronger than ever.

His concern was understandable, and Celivia did wonder if some truly ferocious illness could have overcome her body's defenses. But the strange fact was that she felt truly excellent, her body in peak condition. After living so long with humanizing poison in her body, Celivia was confident that she was herself. If anything, it was the opposite, as if she was more mansthein than before.

"I only need to focus." Celivia rose again and this time her head didn't spin. In fact, she felt even more balanced than before. "Thank you for your concern, but we need to press on."

"If you're certain." Fijn regarded her strangely but wouldn't disagree. Meanwhile, Big Ragh stood nearby with his arms crossed as if only amused by the delay.

"Hey, Kaen. Nothing bad has happened to most of these women yet, right? Do you think any of them would be grateful to their mighty rescuer?"

As they started to run, Celivia cast a disparaging glance his way. "Is that the reason you're doing this?"

"No, of course not! But I'm only saying, if it did happen, that would be fine, right?"

These were the allies she was taking into battle. As much as she wanted to correct Big Ragh, she could admit that he was risking his life and military career. She would accept the allies she had.

Not that she had a choice.

~ ~ ~

Riding in wagons was frustratingly slow compared to running, but at last Tani could see their destination ahead of them. The name "Smuggler's Rest" was far from comforting, so she tried to focus on the fact that they had partially finished their journey. Unfortunately, it seemed that they weren't alone.

The very idea of smuggling had always struck Tani as somewhat strange. Individual Rhen traded in specific goods, of course, and some tribes frowned upon certain items. But the idea that a society would declare some substances so forbidden that they needed dedicated smugglers to provide what people obviously wanted... regardless of her logic, it seemed to be a thriving business, and it was their only way into the mine without causing another massacre.

"Put those on." Their guide turned from his behemoth to gesture to a small box at the base of the wagon. "Those are cloaks for workers, but the only purpose is so that all of us blend together. No one will ask you any questions, and you are to speak to no one. If all goes well, I will have the wagons prepared soon and you will not even spend the night."

"There are others?" Melal glared forward at the activity surrounding the lone buildings. "What do they have to do with this?"

"Nothing, and you have nothing to do with their lives. If you want to reach your destination, you'll be quiet and follow Yetano's rules."

The others cooperated by pulling on the drab brown cloaks, and Melal calmed enough to accept one as well. Not with his old ambivalence, simply biding his time. When he sat on his side of the wagon, he never made contact with the others, only stared into the white clouds overhead.

As they drew closer, Tani extended her senses to observe Smuggler's Rest more carefully. Three buildings huddled together, one of which appeared to be a barn. Beside them, she saw three workers loading a wagon much like their own. On the opposite side, a large number of covered wagons sat in a row, guarded by men in familiar brown cloaks.

Had this been the Chorhan Expanse, they could have seen for leagues around them. Instead, even the drier regions of Portant were warped as if the earth itself was a twisted cloth. Rumpled hills extended in all directions, potentially hiding enemies. Most were covered in dull, short grass, but a few hills rose higher than the others. Some might be large enough to contain caves, but though Tani noted them with concern, she assumed those who worked at Smuggler's Rest had checked them.

The lone outpost did have guards, both rough men with weapons and a number of sein-trained warriors. She noted with bitter amusement that even these outlaws wore strips of metal to indicate their rank, happy to break other laws but not the customs of the Maenhu. Largely Ironsquires and Lesser Ironlords, so a battle would likely not be a threat to their lives.

If they offended their contact, however, it could be a threat to their plan. Tani kept an eye on Melal and resolved to keep her hood close to her face for the duration of their visit to Smuggler's Rest. The name had intrigued her in a morbid way, but now she simply wanted to be away.

For a time, Tani thought that their stop might be quiet. Their guide left to confer with the other smugglers, then returned to tell them that they should wait for a time. A few workers brought them water from a nearby well and told them to stay by the wagons. That should have been simple.

However, her caution made her automatically expand all of her senses around her, and those increasingly told her that something was wrong. Tani smelled mint more strongly than she should have for a few guards. And there was a tickling sensation that felt distinctly wrong, like an insect crawling over her skin. At first it was only a vague disturbance in her sein, but she gradually tracked it to the source.

The row of covered wagons.

If Tani had assumed that it contained warriors and looked away, she might not have noticed. But her gaze lingered, and her enhanced eyes saw into the shadows of one wagon. Red eyes stared back at her. Not only that, when she looked more carefully, she realized that many of the guards around the wagons were mansthein as well.

When Tani climbed out of the wagon, her body felt too heavy. Slaten had stepped a short distance away to stretch his legs and she joined him with a smile on her face. As soon as they faced away from the others, however, she dropped the expression.

"Slaten, there are mansthein here. In the wagons."

His eyes went not to the wagons, but first to Melal. "Do you think he knows?"

"Melal isn't observant enough to notice, but the Hero? The way he is now, I'm concerned that he might feel their presence. And if that happens..."

"I don't suppose you have any idea why they're here?" Not expecting an answer, Slaten surreptitiously cast a glance toward them. "It appears that they want to remain hidden, just as we do. Unless Melal learns of them, they will have nothing to do with us. Could we... simply pass each other by?"

"That might be best, but I..." Tani trailed off as she saw a cloaked figure gesturing to them. The cloak hid their form, and they stood at an angle so that their body was not visible except for dark boots, yet something about their stance cast a familiar hook into her mind.

Slaten noticed as well and they exchanged a glance. In the end, there was really no choice. Even if they were to simply sit and pretend to ignore the message, the figure might well be driven to a more dramatic attempt that would catch Melal's attention. He currently lay in the back of the wagon, staring skyward with a peaceful smile on his face. Tani shivered.

Veron watched them as they left, but said nothing. Tani and Slaten stepped away, and she was briefly afraid the workers would shout at them, but no one interfered until they had reached the figure. When they did, Tani bit back a curse.

"What are you doing here?" Celivia stared out at them, crimson eyes concerned. For a time there was no answer, and Tani refused to give one, so eventually Slaten responded.

"The plan is to smuggle ourselves into the mine. You?"

"The opposite." Celivia rubbed her forehead with one hand for an unusually long time, leading Tani to wonder if she was ill, but then she returned clear eyes to them. "Kreue is smuggling a group of women to the breeding pits in those wagons. Our plan was to wait for them to leave, then capture them on the way."

"Then both of us want to pass peacefully," Tani said. She looked between the other two sharply, urging them to see the logic. Celivia nodded, but Slaten appeared distracted. "This is a strange coincidence, but it doesn't need to have any meaning. Both of us leave, we go our separate ways, and we do as we've planned."

She saw Celivia reluctantly nod, but when she glanced at Slaten she saw that he was no longer looking at either of them. He spoke as if from a distance. "I do not believe this is simply a coincidence. Not when the Legend is involved. There must be something..."

Though Tani wanted to reject his statement and move away from Celivia, she had to admit he was correct. After all the horrors she had seen the Legend cause, the idea that it would bring them together here was not unreasonable. She ran her eyes over the outpost again, uncertain what she looked for.

Until she saw that Melal was gone.

At first they searched desperately, Tani's heart threatening to burst through her chest. She struggled to regain her balance, but it seemed the world was spinning until she found herself facing the sun. It burned through the bright clouds and suddenly her fear and confusion was replaced with a confidence that was far worse.

"Deathspawn!" The Hero's shout erupted over the outpost, all of it burning brightly. His cloak thrown aside, he marched toward the wagons. One of the guards had lowered his hood to scratch at his scalp and that had been enough for Melal to notice. Though if not that, Tani felt certain that something else would have happened to prevent a peaceful coincidence.

One of the guards was escorting a smaller figure that might have been a mansthein woman. Melal killed the guard in a single stroke and the woman fell to the ground, desperately raising a hand to defend herself. Tani should have started running, yet she found herself frozen as Melal raised his sword.

A dark bulk emerged from one of the wagons and leapt at Melal.

The Catai released an overhand swing with a war hammer that would have crushed a normal man, but Melal caught it with his blade in one hand. He kicked out, catching the surprised Catai in the stomach and sending him tumbling back into the wagon. His weight broke one of the wheels and it tipped, the covered top tearing as mansthein women tumbled out, crimson eyes terrified as they saw the bright red blade.

Because Celivia and Slaten had started running, Tani joined them, but her emotions felt tangled in thick furs. She saw everyone around them running, some smuggler guards drawing weapons while others scrambled in different directions. Some of the mansthein snarled and raised spears while others fled, all of it quiet and distant.

Before the rising chaos around the outpost could crash against itself, the Catai moved first. He leapt back to his feet, a broken fragment of the wagon in one hand and his warhammer in the other. The wood shattered against Melal's blade, but a moment later the hammer struck him in the chest. Melal hurtled back, smashing against the side of the well.

Yet he did not even hit the ground before he pulled himself upright. Eyes bright, Melal pointed his sword toward the wagons and shouted. "Slaughter the Deathspawn!"

Tani thought it was only another platitude until she saw the smugglers begin to move. Some still fled, but many turned on the mansthein they had escorted not so long ago. The Catai attempted to intercept, but Melal caught him and the two exchanged blows at the edge of the growing chaos. That left no one to defend the mansthein women, who only now struggled to their feet before the tide of righteous blades.

Celivia sprinted forward, faster than Tani had known she could move. Her knife cut the throat of one of the smugglers even as her whip curled around the arm of the other and pulled him into the air. But though they could not stand against her, they continued to charge, and alone she could not possibly stop them from slaughtering the defenseless behind her.

Finally Tani's uncertainty faded away, because in the end it was simple: armed and trained warriors intended to slaughter innocents. She ran to join the woman she had once hated.

At first she fought alongside Celivia, her knives lashing out in quick succession before she drew them back. Because her opponents moved so slowly, she focused on opening wounds on their legs, sending them to the ground alive. Celivia had no such compunctions in the beginning, but it seemed as though she began to strike less fatally.

What mattered was that the two of them fighting together formed a wall of sein that the smugglers could not penetrate. Some of those who passed them instead turned back, now less focused on slaughter than on defeating those who stood in their way.

Though they were not strong, their numbers were enough that Tani found herself pressured, retreating steps taking her back to Celivia's. The smugglers lingered for a heartbeat, not wanting to throw themselves into a futile battle, and Tani used that time to examine the rest of the battlefield.

Melal still fought the Catai, shouting in fury, unaware of anything else. Slaten had been slower than them and instead took up a position guarding one flank. It seemed odd until Tani noticed that there were two mansthein not wearing brown cloaks, men Tani thought she recognized from Celivia's band. One was helping mansthein women into the wagon while the other attached the behemoths to the front.

Then there was no time to watch, because the fighters around them closed in. The smugglers were not fools, to attack one at a time, instead coordinating from opposite sides. But Tani could throw knives rapidly in any direction and Celivia's whip was devastating against such weak opponents, so they rapidly dropped, soon leaving the two of them standing in a circle of bloodied bodies.

"Kaen!" The voice came from near the wagons, which had been filled with mansthein. One of the soldiers stood nearby, shouting back toward Celivia. "What now?"

"East!" Celivia lashed her whip in that direction, surprisingly violently, and Tani realized that she was also struggling against the Hero's influence in her own way. "Don't stop, no matter what happens!"

Before her soldiers could act, one of the women leapt into the bench at the front, whipping the behemoths. They were capable of moving surprisingly quickly under duress, pulling the wagons up the nearest hill. The larger of the two soldiers had been in the front of another of the wagons, but Tani saw two of the women push him off. He hit the ground with a look of shock on his face and the wagons pulled away.

"Dammit." Celivia wiped blood from the corner of her mouth, though Tani hadn't noticed her receive any injury. "They need guides or they probably won't make it..."

"But they'll definitely die if we don't do something about this." Tani pointed to Melal, who had knocked down the Catai and turned.

His eyes followed the wagons, burning with righteous fury. Slaten stood not far away, and he met her gaze, but she realized that he would not be able to act. This skirmish could end in disaster in many ways, the only possible route through pitting them against Melal.

"Escape and hide." Tani cut off the words at Celivia, then turned away. Melal had begun to follow them, but she outpaced him, grabbing his sleeve. "Melal, wait! It's a Deathspawn trick!"

"A trick?" White suns burned at her from under his brow and she flinched back before she drew her mind together again. No matter how she felt about Celivia, she would defend as many people as she could.

"The smugglers turned against us, and unless we stop them, they'll report our plan!" Tani desperately pointed back to their wagons, only then noting what had happened. Laeri gripped her staff in terror, while Veron stood with several bodies around her. "The Deathspawn are fleeing east, but the mine is northwest. We need to keep anyone from telling of what happened or we won't be able to sneak into the mine!"

As she spoke, she saw Celivia rush to help her soldiers rise and begin to retreat with them. But as she moved, she suddenly stumbled, coughing up blood. Slaten rushed to her, catching her before she could fall. He looked back to Tani, pain in his eyes, and she could only nod.

Though Melal seethed at her for terrible epochs, as if it took time for her words to filter through his rage, his grimace gradually faded. "You're right, Tani. All that matters is the seal. To reach the mine, we need to eliminate all witnesses."

Fortunately, the Catai had returned to his feet, dazed but mostly uninjured. When he began to run, Melal let out a cry and gave chase, carrying him away from Slaten and the mansthein, who fled east toward the hill. Tani saw that Celivia was stumbling and wanted to follow them, but realized that she had no choice. Laeri could not stand against the Hero and Veron had chosen not to help.

So instead she rushed after Melal, catching up quickly but then pretending to struggle with the hills. Ahead of them, the Catai continued to barrel forward with raw speed, keeping ahead of Melal no matter how much he screamed about slaughtering all Deathspawn. Eventually he came to a halt, glowering after the disappearing Catai.

"We've driven him east." Melal stared for some time, then turned back toward the outpost. "We cannot afford to be distracted by him, either. Now we need to take the wagons and travel to the mine as quickly as possible, before the Deathspawn can learn of this battle."

Regardless of the logic, Tani felt a rush of relief as she realized that Melal would not be attacking any more innocents that day. When they returned, there was no sign of Celivia or Slaten, and the only remaining mansthein were dead. The carnage seemed to satisfy Melal and the sunlight no longer beat against her quite so brutally.

Yet the other sight that greeted them was Veron stabbing through the back of one of the smugglers. The man groaned and struggled, but a second stab through his neck ended the sounds in a wet gurgle.

"I've eliminated the traitors, Hero." Veron rose and rested her still bloody sword against her shoulder. Melal gave her a respectful nod.

"You fight on the side of justice, Veron. Join me as we prepare for our journey."

As they turned away, Veron winked at Tani. For a moment it seemed incomprehensible, then she could only wish for anything but the dawning comprehension. The remaining smugglers might have been driven mad by Melal or they might have regained their minds, but either could reveal what had happened. In killing the wounded, Veron had only been ensuring the success of Tani's plan.

Her small mercy had been none at all.

Chapter 55

-

"Some say that I see into the future, yet this is not true. It is also not seeing into the past, except in a bitter sense. Rather, I see deeper into the world itself. Fate is a growing [translation uncertain] stretching skyward. Roots grow deep and cohere in a [translation uncertain] blue."

- excerpt from First of the Sages

-

As their group stumbled away, Slaten realized that he was leading three mansthein. Celivia leaned against him, coughing too violently into one hand to make any decisions. Her soldiers were both driven to the brink by the Hero and he counted himself lucky that they hadn't fallen into a rage.

Yet that meant he was in charge, even though he had no idea what was happening or what they should do. He wasn't suited to this, and he longed for Veron or someone else to join them and take over. But they didn't, and if he did nothing the Hero would kill all the mansthein, and potentially him as well.

"Are there more of you?" His question didn't seem to register, and he wondered if his Futhik was inadequate, then the shorter of the two soldiers shook his head.

"Celivia only took the two of us."

"Then who are they?" Slaten gestured at the mansthein ahead of them, some fallen with injuries and others stumbling away from the outpost. The larger of the two with him cursed.

"Must be the wagon guards. Some that didn't go crazy ran."

"Take those you can. When we reach safety, tie them up until we can... ask questions. Don't do a thing until when we recover."

"If we recover." The shorter mansthein looked over his shoulder. "That... that thing is going to kill us if it can. What do we do?"

"We hide in those... we hide there and do what we can for Celivia." Slaten wasn't sure where the decisions were coming from, and if he thought about them too carefully, he was afraid he'd be paralyzed by indecision. "Do both of you know what's wrong with her?"

"I don't. I was afraid she was poisoned, but..."

"Doesn't matter. Just collect the others and get them out of sight before the Hero follows us."

Impossibly, it worked. They stumbled over a smaller hill and then reached a small clump of trees around one of the larger hills. The two soldiers herded the guards in front of them, shouting and sometimes kicking, but the guards appeared to be in shock and didn't resist. When Slaten looked backward, he didn't see the Hero pursuing them and could only hope that Tani had contained or redirected him somehow.

The distance between them was troublingly small, but he wasn't sure how far he could take Celivia. She was no longer coughing, but she clung to his arm. Her grip wasn't weak, it was actually more painful than it had been at first, her fingernails biting into his skin. When he tried to match her gaze, she murmured something deliriously.

When he turned back, he saw that the smaller of the two soldiers was more resourceful than he looked, currently using rope from his pack to tie up the guards in a more hidden location. The larger was slapping one, trying to get answers, entirely ineffectively. In the end, only three guards had come with them, and one of them bled so profusely Slaten wasn't sure about his chances.

Yet truthfully, he didn't care about any of them compared to Celivia. When he attempted to lower her to the ground, she suddenly gripped his shirt. "Not here... need... away..."

"Stay here while I help Celivia." Slaten gestured to the soldiers and was surprised to see them nod. His orders should mean nothing to them, but maybe supporting their commanding officer counted for something. Or maybe after the Hero annihilated all reason, anyone who offered a simple purpose was leader enough.

Since Celivia had insisted on getting further away, Slaten guided her deeper, toward the hill. Around one side he discovered a rocky cave and she seemed to stumble toward it, so he helped her inside. It wasn't tall enough to stand in, but she dropped down onto her hands and knees to crawl.

Then she violently retched blood over the ground. Slaten worried for her, but when he looked closer, he realized that it was something thicker than blood. He hovered nearby, his decisiveness gone, wishing that he could do something to help but uncertain what was even happening. Fortunately, after Celivia coughed up more thick red bile, her hacking ceased. She sat back slowly and wiped her mouth.

"Thank you, Slaten." Her voice was ragged but clear.

"What's happening? Were you poisoned?"

"No, and that's the genius of it." He caught just a glimpse of her sharp smile before her expression became queasy again. "If someone had tried to poison me, I would have noticed, or my body would have rejected it. But instead they've been slipping me something that's technically beneficial... damn, it must have been in the meat, so I wouldn't notice the taste..."

"I don't understand." Slaten knelt down beside her, trying to put her words together. Celivia drew a shuddering breath and finally met his gaze. Her eyes were brighter than he'd ever seen them.

"Modern mansthein change into different forms in a clean rebirth process, but that isn't natural. Originally, we went through a longer and messier process." Celivia coughed again, bile covering her hand before she shook it off beside her. "That's what's happening to me now, forced by whatever reagent they fed me. Most mansthein have never even seen it, but I endured one... once."

"So this isn't harmful? Why would someone cause this... or did they want to eliminate you without killing you?"

In response, Celivia vomited more bile beside her. Though he knew it wasn't blood, he couldn't help but think that she was dying. Eventually she nodded weakly and managed to speak. "Remove me, or kill me while I'm weak. I'll be helpless for at least a day, and unconscious until I break out."

"Then what can I do to help?" He opened a hand toward her and she reached out, gripping it tightly despite her slime-covered fingers.

"The process will continue naturally, but I don't have enough water. I... won't be conscious for long. Keep anyone from killing me. And... don't let the soldiers see me..."

Though he wanted to ask her more, her focus was obviously fading. Slaten remained with her for a time as if his presence alone could help, but Celivia continued miserably hacking. He thought that it was becoming less painful as she stopped resisting, but it still hurt to see her that way. After checking the mouth of the cave carefully, he stepped downhill to check on the others.

The mansthein gathered in the small grove like detritus in the wake of the fading light. Of the prisoners, one was near dead, another was unconscious, and only one appeared unharmed. The smaller of Celivia's band paced beside the others, looking out toward Smuggler's Rest. His larger companion sat, slapping his own face as if to wake himself up, but only appearing more stunned.

Now that he had more presence of mind, Slaten struggled to remember their names from his time with Celivia's band and came up with Fijn and Ragh. If he was Tani, he would have gently used their names to help them focus, but he wasn't confident enough in his memory.

"What the hell was that?" Ragh asked, staring up at him for only a moment before his eyes rolled in terror.

"That was the Hero," Slaten said. It was all he could say. "Stay quiet so that he doesn't come after us."

"What about Celivia?" Fijn asked.

"She said she needs to be alone, but she needs water."

Fijn nodded and pulled off his pack, retrieving several filled skins of water. Ragh continued to tremble and slapped himself again, but Slaten's attention was drawn by the conscious prisoner. The mansthein stared at them in numb disbelief. "Why is a human in charge?"

"Shut up!" Ragh leapt up in a burst of aggression that faded just as suddenly. "Just... just be quiet."

Though he wanted to take the water, Slaten realized that interrogating the guards might be more important. He knelt down in front of the man and was surprised when he shrank back. "We need to know what you were doing here."

"Minding our own damn business." The guard looked toward Smuggler's Rest and shuddered. "We were just following orders. They told us we had to guard the women and meet the humans here before going to the mine. Everything was fine, then it all went mad..."

Ragh turned on him again. "How could you do it? You know what will be done to them, right? How could you just... just..."

"You think I wanted this?" The guard strained against his bonds, the muscles on his neck standing out. "Dark Lord, some of them are young enough to be my daughter. We were commanded to guard a caravan, and we didn't learn what it was until we arrived. What would you have us do, just leave them to get killed by humans?"

As they argued, Slaten only watched. In the fighting, he had cut down one of the guards of the wagons. Not as a considered moral decision, but because an opponent stood in front of him. Somewhere deep in his mind, he had assumed they were Celivia's enemies, but the guard was only a tired old man. He didn't know what Celivia would have thought, but he found all his emotion draining away.

"The women ran off on their own," Fijn began to say, but Ragh interrupted.

"Shoved me out of the damn wagon!"

"I don't think we can catch up to them, but can they reach safety on their own?"

The guard shook his head. "Maybe. I hope. I saw Shooni grab the reins, and despite... despite everything that's happened to her, she's the most resourceful woman I've ever met. I want to believe she could lead the others somewhere safe, but we're in the middle of Portant. The odds... they aren't good."

"They might be slaughtered by humans, but surely they could go back the way they came?"

"That's the real problem. The smugglers didn't want so many of us near their outpost, so they insisted the other group stay back. Oh, fuck, did you not know about them?" The guard's eyes widened. "We had the Catai with us, but half our real warriors were back waiting for confirmation that we'd handed the women off safely."

Though the mansthein asked more questions about their exact location, Slaten barely heard. He looked out from their hills again, wishing he had Tani's eyes so he could see more clearly. It was possible that the rest of the mansthein force would never notice, but he thought that unlikely. Melal might attempt to kill them all, but how would his allies fare?

Slaten wanted to warn them, yet realized that it could put all the mansthein at risk. After one last glance, he decided that he would need to trust Tani to survive on her own. At the moment, he was the only one who could help Celivia.

Since the mansthein soldiers seemed to have gathered themselves, he picked up the water skins and returned to the cave. He began running, suddenly afraid of what he might find. Nothing came of his fears, but Celivia lay slumped in a pool of red bile. It covered much of her robes and clung to her, giving him the urge to brush her off, but instead he only knelt down beside her.

"Celivia? I have water."

She nodded weakly and pushed herself up on one arm, but needed his help to bring the water skins to her mouth. Though some of it spilled and he started to pull the skin away, she grabbed his wrist and kept it there, insisting that he let her drink all of them. Almost immediately after, she vomited more bile into the pool around her, no trace of water coming up.

Slaten lingered nearby, again helpless. If he had never picked up his sword again and instead devoted himself to being a healer, could he have helped her? Though his feeble knowledge of the past would be useless, he had to assume that if he had walked that path, he would have applied himself as intensely as he did on the path of the warrior. He'd told himself that he sought to defend others, but he realized that his choices had led him further away in some respects.

Just as he started to leave, he heard her voice. "Slaten..." When he looked back, he saw her watching him from her position. Her pupils were wider than he'd ever seen them, only a bright crimson ring around the edges of her eye, and he realized that she must be in the grip of the rebirth. Yet she still struggled to focus on him one more time. "Thank you."

He nodded because he didn't know what else he could do. As Slaten stepped from the mouth of the cave, his hand settled on his sword without hesitation.

~ ~ ~

While everyone else bickered and shuddered and got over their emotional shit, Veron actually got the wagons together. Despite all the chaos, as far as she understood, the plan was still on. That meant they had to actually prepare instead of just standing around and looking gobsmacked. You'd think Tani was new to being around the Hero, given how troubled she acted about all the corpses.

Fortunately, the smugglers had loaded one of the wagons before getting killed off, which gave her an idea of how to proceed. She'd worried that they'd be buried under piles of the odious feed. But she'd suspected that the wagon had a false bottom on the way, and now confirmed it. Soon enough she discovered that it was possible to crawl into an empty space underneath, though it was a tight fit.

Getting back out would be a real bitch. Veron decided to stab her way out instead, when the time came.

They'd need to load some of the other wagons, but in case Melal decided to go off prematurely, she tried to figure out the behemoths. She was no farmer, but as a bandit she knew a lot about how aurochs were hooked up to wagons. It wasn't so different in the north except for the beasts themselves, who stared at her with those dark eyes. No horns, but if they got it into their thick heads to trample her...

Veron heard a shout from behind her, then a gasp of shock from Laeri. She turned, starting to draw her sword, but didn't see any Deathspawn. Melal was on a war path, but he was walking toward Tani, bellowing.

"Now I understand! You weren't fighting that Deathspawn traitor, you were fighting with her! Just who do you serve?"

"Melal, think about this carefully." Tani spoke gently, as if calming a wild animal, but judging from the look on Melal's face, she should have drawn her damn knives. "We need to reach the mine bef-"

He lunged forward, grabbing her around the jaw. "You stood with me on Mount Tmil! How could you question our destiny? How dare you betray me?"

It hadn't been how Veron had planned to help, but the girl was in over her head and she had the means. Putting her sword away, Veron instead sidled up beside Melal. Swinging a hip against his, she slid her arm around his shoulders and up the arm that was gripping Tani, easing him back.

"Easy there, Melal. You need to think this through."

Once he would have slobbered all over her, but now Melal only turned to stare. Damn, he was far away. But there had always been something of the person inside the Hero, even with Goffoel. She thought she knew Melal well enough to find him.

"That Deathspawn tried to betray you, but she just keeps coming back. This time she actually fought for you - I saw her kill some of the Deathspawn with my own eyes. Do you think even they get caught up in the Legend, sometimes? I don't know, but it seems to me that she saw something that she liked."

The Hero stared directly into her eyes, breathing violence, but she saw the light recede in him. She'd expected him to return to himself and put an arm around her waist, yet he only stared. Embers of glory still burned deep within his eyes, smoldering for a time before they burst to life again. But eventually he turned away.

"So be it." Melal's voice held something of his grand pretension, but it had lost far more. "Celivia was once partially human, before she betrayed us, and maybe there is still something of the human in her. If she truly fights for us... I need to think about this."

"That's good, Melal." Veron patted him on the shoulder. "We'll get the wagons ready."

"Do it quickly! The Catai may spread the word or the Deathspawn may find some way to impede our path. Be prepared to leave as soon as I give the command." He marched away, though where exactly he was going in the empty hills was unclear. Maybe he just liked marching places.

Laeri rushed to Tani and embraced her, relief flooding her face. Tani, however, rubbed her jaw and watched Veron quietly. "I didn't expect that. Have you ever seen a Hero willing to compromise on the Deathspawn?"

Veron shrugged. "I'm not sure I have, even now."

"But he remembered Celivia's name and seemed almost willing to consider her an exception. Could we stretch that into something more?"

"If I was a betting woman, which I am, I wouldn't wager on it. And what we're wagering ain't coin."

"I hope not." Tani was silent for a while longer, then stopped rubbing her jaw and instead smiled. "Thank you, Veron."

"Yeah." She'd intended to say more, but why? Veron uncorked her flask and drank as deep as she could.

~ ~ ~

Though Slaten had anticipated caring for Celivia, he had almost no involvement after giving her water. She coughed up more and more red bile, then once when he returned to the cave, there was only a cocoon of it around her. He was alarmed at first, then noticed that her clothes and weapons lay in a messy pile to one side. The bile was opaque, but Celivia must be within, transforming.

When he touched the cocoon, he found it soft and firm, like flesh. He decided not to touch it further, in case he could interfere with the process in any way, but noted that it hardened over time. Not enough to turn aside a blade, but hopefully she was somewhat safe within.

As he waited, he cleaned her knives and whip. Her robes were too stained to be salvaged, so he left them where they lay.

All he could do was divide his attentions between her, the mansthein, and Smuggler's Rest. While he had been distracted, he saw that all the bodies had been removed, but he didn't think any wagons had departed. Unless he had misjudged, that meant that Melal and the others remained there for reasons unknown. Such a short distance away, yet unknown to him.

Unlike the mansthein, who he'd had ample opportunity to listen to while they waited. One of the guards had died and another had never woken up, but the third spoke freely with Ragh and Fijn. Their lives seemed to have much in common, mostly trying to earn something for themselves while following orders. Aside from speculating about Celivia's illness, which included no correct guesses, most of what they said was of little interest to him. More Futhik practice, but his thoughts remained with Celivia.

After staring at the cocoon one more time, Slaten left to join them. He had intended to ask questions, but the guard interrupted before he could begin. "Why are you helping us? I thought all humans wanted their Hero to come and kill us."

"Do all mansthein want the same things?" Slaten sat down in their circle and they made room, or moved away from him. Fijn regarded him skeptically.

"I understand what you're trying to say, but you have to admit that it only took a single word from him and all those smugglers turned on us. I saw them. They were out for blood."

"The Hero changes everyone around him. You must have felt it too, a... rage for no reason inside you. A rage that said it had great meaning." Yet even as he spoke, Slaten saw that his words couldn't reach them, even if he could find the right Futhik terms. Years of practice had allowed him to speak freely about the Hero, but they were still overwhelmed by the experience. The guard in particular stared blankly as he spoke.

"You didn't answer the question. You might have saved me, but I don't see you fighting the Hero. Kill him and you could save a lot more than one old man."

Though he wanted to tell them of how the Hero always returned, it sounded like a lie even in his own mind. Had he been Tani, Slaten might have tried to tell them a beautiful story of humanity wanting to join with the mansthein, with only the Legend standing between them. But though she believed in that ideal, he couldn't speak it aloud. Much simpler words fell from his lips.

"Some humans want that. Some don't. Most just want to live their lives."

Ragh nodded as if this was great wisdom. "I figured that. I can tell you that I never wanted to invade no human lands. But life is rough back home, and a big man like me, everyone tells you that you should join the military. I can't say that I like you humans, but you seem to be getting along on your own."

"Humans are divided into many nations, but I have seen... all mansthein are mostly together." Slaten moved his gaze to each of them. "Am I wrong?"

"Of course you are! Us here, we're all good Feinan stock. Can you really not tell the difference between us and Seinans? And don't get me started on the Laenans, much less the filthy Feras..."

"All of you fight in the same army."

"Yes and no." Fijn entered the conversation quietly, but Ragh stopped shouting to let him speak. "The idea that all mansthein are united is propaganda."

"Is what?"

"Uh, lies the leaders tell. Got it? Different legions are controlled by different powers, and they cooperate only under duress. When they're forced to. Some supposedly friendly competitions between legions grow bloody, and there are always rumors that we're truly at war with ourselves in far-off lands, like Younten Trathe."

Ragh stared at his fellow soldier with wide eyes. "Damn, Fijn, when did you start learning politics?"

"I did more in Castle Wahles than drink, big Ragh. But you should know this too. Fein Karnak used to be independent, before the Seinans conquered us."

"That's ancient history." The guard spat onto the ground between them. "We might dance to the tune of Ith Silvaros, but we all serve the Dark Lord and the Zeitai."

"Which Zeitai?" Fijn regarded him with a smirk. "They have their own legions, and you can't tell me they're all working together. Everything I've heard about Zeitai Terza tells me that all he wants is to support his fellow Laenans."

"Don't talk like that! Zeitai have ascended beyond us!"

Though Slaten wanted to continue listening to them, finding more in their assumptions than in their words, he realized that he was hearing something else. Not loud, and in fact he was surprised that he could hear it at all, but he heard a sound like equipment rubbing against itself. When he searched, he found what he'd feared: in the distance he could see mansthein moving over the hills toward Smuggler's Rest.

No, not only toward the outpost. Others were spreading out as if to surround the buildings, and their arc would take them past the hill. They might not be searching carefully, but an encounter might lead them to discover Celivia. Whatever their allegiance, he intended to honor her request and keep her isolated until she was finished.

When Slaten stood up, the others stopped talking. Ragh started to say something, but Slaten only gestured. They couldn't see anything at first, but Fijn ran forward and shielded his eyes with one hand. When he turned back his entire face expelled a curse.

"Fuck. Looks like the Catai found that second group after all."

"That's good!" The guard's bonds had been loosened for his comfort and he now struggled to rise. "I don't know what you intend to do, human, but they're our saviors."

Ragh finally saw the group and turned back to them, nodding. "Do you think they could help the Kaen?"

"We don't know what they want." Slaten drew his sword, making all three mansthein flinch back, and more importantly, go quiet. "If they attack the Hero, it will become another battle. If you want to meet them, I'll hide and let you speak with them, but lead them away from Celivia."

Though he didn't trust the guard, Fijn gave him a nod. After untying the guard, the three of them moved to the edge of the grove. Slaten followed, carefully noting the distance between them and the cave entrance. They emerged from the north side of the grove and waved to the advancing mansthein forces. That drew their scouts inward to meet them, hopefully preventing them from searching the hill at all. He needed to trust them, but waited with his sword drawn.

The three mansthein he had come to know looked glad to meet their fellow soldiers. Prematurely. From his distance, Slaten could see that they were being surrounded, and the new forces kept their weapons raised. He couldn't hear what was said, but when he saw the attack, he began to run.

Fijn leapt back, knocking aside the swords drawn at him, but Ragh and the guard were taken unawares, driven to the ground before they could draw their weapons. Slaten poured more sein into his legs, but it only made him aware of the distance between them and every detail of the scene he could not prevent.

"Death to saboteurs!" One of the new soldiers hacked downward and Ragh narrowly avoided his cut by throwing himself back against the men holding him. The guard also struggled, but couldn't prevent the next swing from biting into his neck. It was a poor blow, leaving him screaming wetly with blood gushing from his neck, and then Slaten finally reached them.

He struck with his full force, disarming the nearest of the soldiers, and was surprised at how loud the clash of their blades was. Avoiding lethal strikes might be futile, but he still didn't understand the exact purpose of the attack. The soldiers turned toward him in alarm, moving so slowly that it was easy for him to kick some off their feet and disarm the others.

After pushing away the men holding Ragh, Slaten started to extend a hand to help him up. A cacophony of steel struck him from behind and he staggered, barely remaining on his feet against the onslaught of noise. It sounded as though entire armies were striking their blades together, yet he knew the numbers couldn't be so large.

When he turned toward Smuggler's Rest, he understood. Melal swung his sword wildly to meet the incoming mansthein, driving all of them to battle once again. The Hero was a glowing symbol in the distance, but Slaten could only guess at the movements of those he cared about. But unless they had left Melal behind, they would be rapidly surrounded by the mansthein forces.

One of the other soldiers attempted to stab him from behind, pulling Slaten back to himself. He easily spun aside from the attack, using his momentum to turn on his opponent and strike his side. His sword cleaved through the man's arm and deep into his ribs, driving him to the side before he fell.

It would have been best to gather Ragh and Fijn to lead them away, but Slaten saw that it was too late. All the mansthein around him burned crimson, snarling like animals instead of the men they had been such a short time ago. At least the two soldiers struck at the new arrivals instead of turning on him.

For a moment Slaten was caught between several potential movements, all attempting to save someone who deserved to live. But couldn't the same be said for most of their attackers? They were no doubt just like the dead guard, merely attempting to protect their allies after being brutally attacked.

Someone struck at him, and this time when Slaten deflected the blade, it screeched against his. He staggered back, not only at the sound but at the strength behind it. His next opponent, a lean Feinan man, was a trained warrior, now aggressively pressing him with savage cuts. Though Slaten could easily stop them, he found himself faltering.

As he fought, a pale whisper grew within him. If he only had the strength, he would be able to change the flow of the battle. With a little more sein, he could fully support his Bloodskin body and throw everything he had into stopping the massacre. He desperately reached for it, imagining how he might save Celivia's soldiers, rush to the defense of Tani, and stop Melal before he could go too far.

But the clash of battle all around him overwhelmed that whisper, burying his mind in a chorus of blades. Slaten realized numbly that his sword had gone through the other warrior's neck and that the man now crumpled to the ground.

He told himself that he was a defender, but when he opened himself, only one thing spilled out.

~ ~ ~

Though by Tani's estimation they should have already departed, Melal lingered with endless suspicions of Deathspawn lying in wait. Since their delay gave Celivia and Slaten more time, Tani didn't argue. She looked toward the forested hill so often that Laeri noticed and grew concerned. So far, there had been no sign of them.

When she finally saw mansthein, it was a force rushing over the hills toward them.

"They've come to their deaths!" Melal scrambled to his feet, eyes kindling again. "I knew we were right to wait - now let's end this!"

Tani caught a glimpse of a conflict near the hill, but then the mansthein had arrived and she couldn't think about anyone else. The worst of it was that Veron had left to scout their path west, leaving them significantly outnumbered. She drew her knives as she judged the threat racing toward them, strings of sein threading from her fingers.

Melal met the enemy head on, his sword cleaving through the first mansthein at the waist, as if the man's armor simply didn't exist. He then raised his sword and let out a war cry, leaving him completely open to the next closest mansthein.

Even one day prior, Tani might have watched them attack, letting the Hero deal with his own problems. But Melal had been willing to make an exception for Celivia, which gave her just a sliver of hope. The Sage had influenced him, Veron had nudged him, and perhaps she could find something more. Perhaps Melal could be a Hero who inspired more than violent hope.

So she lashed out with her knives, letting them fly straight and then swinging them back to her in smooth arcs as the thread withdrew into her spirit. Though she had practiced it for only a short time, it felt far more natural to her than her earlier method of tugging on her own sein.

One warrior deflected her knife and another bashed it to the ground with his shield, but her other throws each sent a soldier to the ground. The immediate threat to Melal was gone, so if the two of them supported Laeri, they might be able to stand against the opponent's numbers.

At that moment, Melal charged into the enemy with another loud cry.

Other mansthein had spread out, beginning to surround them. Laeri held her staff ready, the metal end raised, but she didn't see the soldier preparing to hurl a spear at her.

Tani swept in between them, drawing her sickle knife and hooking the spear out of the air. Laeri jumped as it fell to the ground, but recovered and kept her staff ready for other threats. It was still a futile position where they'd soon be enclosed. Grabbing the healer by her robe, Tani pulled her back to one of the unfilled wagons.

Atop it, they were a clear target for thrown weapons, but Tani only needed to intercept several more spears. Then their opponents were left with melee weapons, struggling to reach up to their position atop the wagon. Using her knives, Tani quickly proved that their speed couldn't overcome her range advantage.

Beside her, Laeri flailed wildly at the blades that poked toward them. She let her sein flow through her body, so she actually had some strength, enough to knock a few blades to the ground. But she struck so recklessly that she was almost more of a danger to Tani, who was forced to employ all the agility she could muster to dodge the other end of the staff while attacking the enemies around them.

Until more mansthein warriors arrived, Tani had a moment to think. She could see a knot of fighting in the distance and hoped that it was Slaten, but there was no time to look closer. What mattered was that he clearly couldn't join them.

Toward Smuggler's Rest, Melal and the Catai struck at each other. Though Melal seemed to gain the upper hand, the other mansthein rallied to support their leader. Melal eventually shattered their coordinated assault, but it meant more forces were drawn away from the wagon.

Not enough. Tani attempted to pull back one of her knives and felt it firmly gripped by a warrior below. There was another who had a spear at his shoulder, ready to throw when she was unable to dodge. Worse, some of the soldiers began hacking at the wheels, which would soon break the wagon and send them pitching into the crowd. Tani could leap over them, but Laeri...

She looked over the hills, hoping to see Veron, but there was no one. They had weathered the attack, but it simply wouldn't be enough. At best she might be able to flee alone, which was no victory at all.

A strange cry briefly drew the attention of everyone around the wagon. Tani turned, expecting to see a new force, but could only identify it as coming from Slaten's knot of fighting. She couldn't tell if anything had changed... until a man's head separated from his body and soared over the hills. Someone new had entered the battle and turned the tide.

Celivia had been fast before and now moved yet faster, reaching the top of one hill and simply leaping to the next. Her silver hair streamed behind her in the wind and her eyes were nearly solid crimson. Previously she had looked heavier, but now her body was thinner than Tani had ever seen her. Though her robe was covered in blood, her skin was pure gray.

The fighters attempted to begin their attack again, but they were too late. Celivia was on them in the blink of an eye, fighting with a savagery that Tani hadn't seen before. Not only did her whip and knife kill, she lashed out with a bare foot, snapping a soldier's leg effortlessly.

One of the warriors managed to catch her whip in his gauntlet, but Celivia crossed the distance between them in a single step and smashed her head directly into his. The body fell backward with the helm crumpled in.

Tani threw knives at some of the remaining soldiers and the battle was soon over. Laeri cheered with her staff over her head before she remembered herself and slowly lowered it. Celivia turned to them, heaving deep breaths that left her sharp teeth clearly visible.

Despite the blood covering her, she was beautiful. She had changed in many small ways, but Tani saw something deeper. Celivia had always been part woman and part weapon, but she seemed far more herself than before, burning with a vital energy. When Tani tasted her sein, it was unbelievably sweet.

Yet there was no time. Tani saw that Slaten had been assisted, but the Catai now pressed Melal back, so Tani pointed to them. "You have to help Melal."

"Why?" Celivia's voice sounded a bit deeper than before, but her eyes remained clear. Tani admitted that she understood the other woman's question, but Celivia didn't know what had changed.

"We almost convinced him to accept you earlier. If you save him, he might not kill you... but if you don't, I suggest you run."

After only a moment's hesitation, Celivia lunged away to the remaining fight. The remaining soldiers died in an instant, then Celivia swung her whip around the neck of the Catai. As he grimaced and clawed at it, Melal's blade burst from his back.

It was entirely untouched by blood, though the steel itself had once been red.

When Melal pushed the Catai's body aside, he stared up at Celivia. Tani readied a knife in case he chose to attack, but eventually he pulled himself to his feet. Though he stared at her with burning eyes, the Hero only simmered within him instead of shining through his skin.

"The Sage taught me that the Deathspawn are also part of the Legend." Melal put a hand on her shoulder. "Who can say what part all of them have to play?"

Celivia smiled as if she wanted to tear out his throat with her teeth.

"The rest of you, finish with the wagons! The last loose end has been tied, so now we need only reach the mine and acquire the seal. There is little time left." Melal began walking through the battlefield, driving his sword down into those who yet lived.

Slaten approached, slumped as if he barely had the strength to walk. Two mansthein soldiers came with him, their eyes strangely bright. When Celivia rushed out to meet them, out of the Hero's line of sight, Tani left Laeri to join them.

"Kaen..." One of the soldiers stared at her with huge eyes. "Are... are you Catai now?"

"Not even close." Celivia clenched a fist and stared down at it. "If the natural process could produce superior results, we wouldn't invest so much in rebirth chambers. I'm stronger, and my skin is much tougher, but..." She took some of her loose hair in one hand and squeezed it, frowning. "So tough that I can't even be certain. Tani, can you test it?"

Tani hesitantly reach out to touch the other woman's hair, careful not to brush her shoulder. It was silky smooth and ran over her fingers like a caress, but that wasn't what Celivia meant. "I don't think that this hair would cut anyone."

"Then it's a liability." Celivia gathered her hair in one hand and then cut through it in a single stroke, strands gleaming almost golden in the sunlight. Her new hair was uneven, but hanging around her face as it did, Tani thought it actually looked better.

"I don't understand, Kaen." One of her soldiers regarded her with confusion. "Shouldn't a rebirth make you stronger?"

"Physically stronger, but there's more to it than that." Celivia made her tail curl around her waist, resting in her hand, and gave a heavy sigh. Tani realized that where before it had been a shining blade, now it only ended in an arrowhead tip, gray as the rest of her skin. "Even this...? No, I've stepped sideways into a more primitive form. Good preparation for becoming a Catai, perhaps, but weaker in many respects."

Slaten had been watching with quiet interest, but now his gaze turned back to the battlefield. Melal had nearly finished his work, the realization cutting through all other conversation until Slaten spoke. "Nothing will stop Melal from reaching the seal now. What do we do?"

"Stop him from slaughtering the inhabitants of the mine." Celivia let go of her tail, eyes immediately focused again. "The remaining forces there will have superior numbers, but you're right, that won't stop him. What we can do is move the civilians out of his path. If you're taking the wagons, we'll run ahead first."

"What will you do?" Tani asked. Celivia's eyes met hers, brighter crimson than before.

"Find out who poisoned me and finish them." She gestured to her soldiers and they departed swiftly, beginning a long arc that would take them northwest to the mine.

Where they would all arrive soon enough. Tani nodded to Slaten, because there was nothing to say, and they returned to join the Hero.

Chapter 56

-

"Cast as an actor without a play, there is nothing I can do that would have any weight. Yet this is true of all. I am unique only in that I understand the futility. It seems an endless cruelty for entire generations to live for only a single purpose, their lives made icons."

- excerpt from First of the Sages

-

Mohuno pretended that he didn't see the Stormpeak warrior who intended to kill him and kept shoveling food into his face.

He was already sick of the food set before him, but now that he was chieftain of a much larger clan, he needed to play the part. All his guests watched him for weakness. If he wanted to change anything with his clan, he needed to conform with the rest. That meant throwing lavish feasts, picking fights, and taking a woman or two to his furs every night.

Some of those were easier than others. The last should have been easiest of all, but Tani's memory kept ringing in his head.

At a grand meeting between clans, no one was being threatened and he knew they came willingly. It should have been a pleasure. But as eager as they were, now he found himself hearing their flattery and thinking twice. They saw that he was a rising chieftain and wanted to attach themselves to him for their own benefit, not his. Everything was so complicated now thanks to that damn girl.

Some of the clans had come to size him up. A few came to grovel, as his expanded territory could crush theirs. A few broken clans needed him now, since only he had excess food and blankets.

The Stormpeaks representative waited outside with two axes and a blue grin.

After eating too much, Mohuno slammed his mug down and rose to his feet. "Eat your fill, my friends! We have more than enough!" With that boast, he moved to leave the feasting hall, only to spot another man standing in his way.

Though Mohuno didn't know him well, he thought the man's name was Patole. He was one of the remaining Bloodskin men, one of those with the hottest blood. Judging from the fire in his eyes, perhaps he wanted to be the new chieftain.

"You think you can set yourself up as some sort of northern lord?" Patole struck him in the chest, a challenge instead of an attack. "You fight with women, lowlanders, and boys. No man of any true clan would ever follow you!"

"Strong words." Mohuno smiled back. He couldn't deny the accusation, so he simply refused it. "The men of any true clan fight with their blood, not words. Challenge us, if you dare."

Several men around the table banged their mugs in approval and Patole let out a furious breath. "You've run from every fight in your life. When the Hero walked with us, the Steelbones refused to fight. You have nothing but the strength of cowards."

"Where were you, in the battle where your chieftain died? If living is cowardice, every fallen Bloodskin calls you a coward."

"You think your tiny clan can match us? We are the tribe of the Hero himself! He underwent our rituals and became one of us!" The response from the men was surprisingly loud, and even Mohuno felt something within himself. He strangled it and simply smiled in response.

"The Hero isn't here now, is he?" Mohuno struck the other man in the chest, just as he had been struck. "You are nothing. With your chieftain dead, your men abandon you by the day and your women come to our furs at night. Should anyone be surprised that the Hero left you as well?"

"You will regret this." Patole drew an axe and slammed it down into the table. "There's only one thing you said right: real men fight with their blood, not words. We shall see whose blood is hottest."

He left the hall without looking back once. Mohuno pretended to laugh and knocked the axe of challenge over with one hand, as if it was nothing but a joke.

In truth, he was looking at the weapon more carefully. Despite his posturing, the Bloodskin clan was still a significant threat. They had two men remaining with blood hotter than his, and since the fatal battle they had gathered new men.

And the axe was poorly made, not Patole's true weapon. The outburst had been a planned challenge from the start.

Mohuno turned away carelessly, and he really did put the matter out of his mind. If the clans continued as he saw them, it seemed likely that there would be war between Steelbones and Bloodskins. But that wouldn't matter at all if the Stormpeaks man killed him before the day was over.

"We received your invitation." The man's teeth flashed blue as he spoke. "But we are not here to talk. Your head will be the only message we send back."

"I will be glad to receive it, since I'm likely to be missing a head then." Mohuno adopted the confidence of madness. Since he couldn't win a fight, that was the only weapon he had. "The Stormpeaks suffered when the Deathspawn attacked as well. Even you could benefit from cooperation."

"The bear does not lie with the bicorn. You prey on lowlanders, but we prey on your clans."

A drop of sweat began to roll down the back of Mohuno's head and he forced his smile to stay in place. Time for a more desperate gamble. "We are no longer just a clan."

Hesitating, the Stormpeak man regarded him coldly.

"Your clan may be a bear, but even the bear cannot feast on everything. When the errants and the Deathspawn come, I've seen you hold back. The Steelbone clan now has a permanent alliance with the northern lowlander kingdoms. Take my head and an errant will soon take yours."

"Lies." The blue grimace widened, but the man didn't attack. Mohuno was lying through his teeth, so he only kept smiling.

They stared at one another and Mohuno realized that his entire future might rest on his ability to not back down. When the Stormpeak man started to lift one of his weapons, Mohuno didn't reach for his own, just looked at it with mild amusement. His opponent was skeptical, but if he could add just a little more doubt about his strength...

"Your weapons, chieftain." The female voice took them both off guard, as they had been alert for heated blood, not cold. And yet the woman walked between them without any hesitation.

Natala respectfully raised a bundle to him, wrapped in emerald cloth as they only wove in the north. She uncovered it and revealed that she carried a dozen blades. They might have been the spoils of a raid, yet as the cloth fell away, the edges gleamed the red of bloodsteel. Mohuno did his best not to show any surprise.

"If these meet with your satisfaction, the northern smiths will send a hundred more."

Mohuno picked up one of the swords and pretended to look at it with mild interest, though in truth he was impressed by the edge. Weapons with blood of their own...

"Nothing but a ploy!" The Stormpeak pointed an axe toward Natala and she simply stared back at him.

"The Steelmasters have retreated from the border with Espal, so Portantese Steeljudges have already begun to travel into the desert. And your clan has seen what occurs when the Deathspawn and Wahleen agree. They've come to a new agreement that will send them deeper into the mountains."

"Don't taunt him, Natala." Mohuno smirked at the man with confidence he was only starting to feel. "He already knows what he will bring into the mountains if he strikes at us."

For several rapid heartbeats, the man looked between them. Mohuno stiffened his face in a smirk and willed his words to be true. When at last the Stormpeak turned and stalked away, he prevented himself from sighing, but his shoulders went slack in relief.

Once the man was away, Mohuno turned to Natala. "Was any of that true?"

"What I said about the movements of the north was mixed truth and lies I thought they would believe. The Stormpeaks scorn lowlander politics, but they also fear them." She turned toward him, a warm smile spreading across her face. "Bluffing him was a clever choice. Even if you had managed to overcome him by strength of arms, you would only have drawn the Stormpeaks down on us. Now, they will hesitate."

"What happens when they hesitate long enough to find out that we lied to them?"

"By then, it may be the truth. There may not be a hundred bloodsteel blades traveling south, but these were forged by a northern smith for me. You've already seen how much a trade agreement with the north can benefit you, so imagine going one step further."

"Yes, I've seen everything you've done." Mohuno had noted Natala mostly for her beauty, considering her just another woman working together with Cabari to sell ombo wool. After the courage she'd shown against the Stormpeak, he looked at her anew, and he only liked some of what he saw. "Just what is your game here, Bloodskin? Do you seek to join the Steelbone clan?"

"Perhaps I do." She smiled at him, but her eyes shifted toward the feasting hall, and he realized that they were being watched. The intelligence she displayed set his blood burning, yet it left something deep within him cold. Since she was right, he simply reached out to touch her neck.

"You know where you can find me." With that loud invitation, he left her there and walked into the village.

Since it was not yet night, Mohuno spoke with his men and the women who had become merchants. Cabari was not with them, fearing the gathering of warriors, but he was surprised at how many of the other women urged him to ask his questions to Natala instead. While his eyes had been elsewhere, she had wormed her way into the meat of his clan.

Though her smile was encouraging, Mohuno couldn't ignore the steel he saw in her eyes. This Natala needed to be watched just as much as the other Bloodskins. Could she have been sent by them? But no, the Bloodskins were fools who would never stoop to working with a woman. And he had a feeling that she would never stoop to work with them.

As he encouraged his men and spoke to other clans, he took the time to ask a few other Bloodskins about her. Those who knew her all agreed that she was beautiful, but utterly limp in the furs. A few suggested that there was something strange about her and advised him to stay away, lest she poison him with her cold blood.

Distracted by his thoughts, he returned to his room alone. He had more furs than before, of finer quality than he had known, yet every night passed uneasily. Refusing to think of anyone else, he lay down to sleep, but it eluded him.

Then Natala slipped into his room. He had never expected her to actually come and only stared as she closed the door and sat down opposite him.

"I have no interest in sharing your furs, Mohuno."

"Well, this is the worst seduction I've ever heard." He sat up and grinned at her, intrigued despite himself. "Then why are you here?"

"Because I think we must come to an agreement." She met his gaze and he knew that she had the same strength as Tani, if not her fire. "You have strength, but your attempts at trade will fail if you do not improve them."

"Don't think I haven't noticed you involving yourself with Steelbone affairs. But coming here tonight... the men of your clan will not be pleased with you."

"That is the agreement I wish to make. Let everyone believe that you have taken me as your woman and I will work together with you. The people of the villages you protect could do far more for you, and your numbers could swell further. Some are attracted to your stability, but more would join if I-"

"Why pretend?" Mohuno smiled, and when she didn't flinch, he leaned closer. "Bloodskin men may be too weak for a woman of your intelligence, but for me, it is quite the opposite. I don't care if you're smarter than me. Become my woman in truth and our children could lead the Steelbones with our strengths combined!"

He saw a hint of resignation in her eyes and, infuriatingly, disappointment. "If that is your price, I will pay it. But you must know that I will never desire you."

"This really is the worst seduction." He stopped imagining her joining him and simply sat back. What truly enraged him was that she had seen his desire and thought that he was just like other men. Though he hoped that she would change her mind if he proved her wrong, other thoughts shoved their way to the forefront. "I suppose just as some men desire men, some women might likewise scorn men."

"Something like that."

"Then your alliance sounds like it will be cold and unpleasant for both of us."

"Take whoever you want to your furs. You will never hear a single jealous word from me." At last Natala smiled at him again, a real smile that reached her eyes. "The other women who came to you at night only want to use you for the power you represent. I am here because you're smarter than the others. I would have no need to manipulate you into making good decisions. We could truly work together as equals."

"If you had begun there, this would have been a much easier conversation." Mohuno relaxed back against the wall and watched her. "Say that I accept your agreement. You've already shown that you can help with trade, but what is this suggestion of a real alliance with the north?"

"It is only an extension of what you've done with your villages. Approach the northern nations not as barbarian raiders, but as another nation. Tell them that you can ensure safety passing through your lands in return for a tax on their goods."

"That sounds like another name for raiding."

"Merchants prefer predictable costs to greater losses. In my time in the Maenhu, I have discovered that many reduce their travel through the mountains because of the threat of raiders. If you can convince them to make a treaty with you, not only will you take in certain rewards every year, you will see trade increase threefold."

As he considered her words, his mind began to burn with new thoughts. If it worked, it would only be a stronger version of the structures he had already created. The idea of the Steelbone clan being respected by the northern errants as no clan ever had before filled him with a strange sort of pride. No one would sneer at them as barbarians any longer. They might grow so strong that even the name Steelbone was no longer enough...

Mohuno smiled at Natala. "It seems this could be an interesting night after all."

Chapter 57

-

"Others in the past have had purpose, for what little good it did them. Entire empires falling and rising solely for the sake of a seal, a sealed [translation uncertain]. Yet when I attempt to seek out those seals in my dreams, I can see nothing but the knowledge that it is not yet time."

- excerpt from First of the Sages

-

Though she wanted to sprint the entire distance to the mine, Celivia forced herself to keep pace with Fijn and Big Ragh. Ever since she woke up, her mind seemed too eager to leap to action, though she wasn't sure if she was unjustly shifting responsibility onto her rebirth. Regardless, she needed to think so that she was certain of what she should do when she returned to the mine.

She was relatively certain she knew who had been responsible for poisoning her, but as the mine finally came into sight, she decided it would be best to ask. Other than the humans, the only resource she had was her band. There was no sense in shutting them out now.

"Fijn, do you think that Splinters could have slipped the reagents into my food?"

"It's possible, Kaen." He gave her a strange shrug. "Nobody really wants to touch the worst of the meat, but everybody knows that you eat it. Anybody in our band could have planted the reagents if they had them."

"I'm not certain where he acquired them, but he has the most motive."

"Sure he's smart enough for that?" Big Ragh asked. When they both looked at him, he quickly raised his hands defensively. "I mean, I'm not smart enough for it. Just found out I knew even less than I thought I did. Even if I could get fancy reagents, I wouldn't know the first damn thing to do with them."

"I suspect that he had help, but that's another question." Celivia gestured toward the barracks ahead. "When we arrive, the evacuation is top priority. I don't have the authority for that and we don't know the current situation. I'll talk to Ghasfik while the two of you gather the band. If you find Splinters... don't let on that we suspect for now."

They nodded and split away from her as they arrived. As Celivia walked to the band's quarters, she continued pondering the question that Big Ragh had stumbled across. He was right: even if Splinters could have thought of such a plan, the reagents to cause a natural rebirth were rare and expensive. That meant he needed help, and she had a bad feeling that she knew who could have offered it.

Though she didn't want to suspect Jeraeli, the other woman was the only person with the resources. She also had the motive, wanting Celivia disabled by the rebirth while she finished her work. Her only question was why Splinters would work with her, but maybe he hated some women more than others.

Grateful that the barracks appeared mostly empty at first, Celivia gradually realized that it was too remarkable to be a coincidence. When she saw Ghasfik and he immediately leapt to his feet, she knew that something was wrong.

"We have a problem, Kaen." He walked closer but didn't bother to lower his voice. "While you were gone, they called for every warrior. I covered for you, but Jeraeli is suspicious and threatened punishment if you didn't show yourself."

"Why were all the warriors called to serve?"

"A group of humans began attacking to the west, raiding both our patrols and human errants. Jeraeli sent most of our forces to eliminate them. Is everything alright?"

"No. Not even close." Celivia rubbed her eyes, reconsidering. The raiders were almost certainly sent by Melal as a diversion, and she estimated that he would arrive soon. Having fewer soldiers in the mine reduced the potential casualties, but... "Jeraeli is still present?"

"Of course. She's never left on any of the patrols."

Then negotiation needed to be her first choice, even if it sacrificed the element of surprise. Jeraeli hadn't attempted to kill her, after all, only disable her harmlessly. "Listen: the human Hero is approaching and he intends to kill everyone here. Above all, we need to evacuate anyone who can't fight. I would prefer if Jeraeli cooperated with us, but it needs to happen one way or another."

"I see." Ghasfik stared at her for a long moment, and she worried that she might have pushed her second too far, but eventually he nodded. "I don't like this, Kaen, but I'll follow orders. Especially if the threat is as grave as you say."

"It's worse. Ask Fijn and Big Ragh if you don't believe me."

It wasn't long before the others began to return. Puga led in Brifik, who looked more alert than before, though he carried a jug along with him. They both seemed only puzzled about what was happening, so no explanations had been given yet. Good.

Before everyone had gathered, Huthur sat down beside her. "I don't know if it matters, Kaen, but there's something very strange in the mine."

"Tell me." She glanced toward the others, but most were discussing matters with Fijn and Big Ragh.

"Some time ago, one of the mine shafts struck something unusual. What it is, I can't say, because even builders were forbidden there. Since then, mining has slowed down."

"As if they found what they wanted?"

"I don't know, but soldiers moved some strange barrels into the cleared tunnel. I should have stayed away, but when I saw Jeraeli supervising them personally, I took another look." Huthur was already speaking in a low voice, but it neared a whisper. "They were sealed barrels, tightly sealed. The only reason to use those would be if you were transporting something extremely valuable."

"But they were taken into the tunnel and never removed?" When Huthur nodded, Celivia tried to add that thought to what she knew. "If my theory is correct, Jeraeli has access to a large number of reagents. Is it possible that she's creating a rebirth chamber for some reason?"

'If so, none of the builders I know worked on it. If you ask me, those barrels contain something dangerous."

Though Celivia had no viable theories, she knew that Huthur had risked himself to acquire that information. "Thank you, Huthur. Later, I'm going to send the others to begin an evacuation. I want you to go investigate these barrels instead."

He nodded and might have said more, but by then the entire band had entered the room. Krafan came to sit beside her, giving her a long and strange look. She forgave him quickly due to the changes in her body and the fact that she had far more important things on her mind. Splinters glared at her like normal, with no idea that she was aware of what he'd done.

"Several problems have struck at once." Celivia stood up as she began to speak, but she had no speeches prepared, only plans. "There are humans on their way who intend to attack the mine, and they'll kill everyone in their path."

"More? Can they really challenge our forces here?" Puga regarded her skeptically, but Big Ragh cut him off.

"They can. You don't want to see it. Shut up."

"I think the best strategy would be to evacuate," Celivia said with only a brief nod to Big Ragh, "but I don't know if the commander will agree. This is made much more complicated by another problem: the reason I have been absent is because there was an attempt to poison me. I believe that Commander Jeraeli may have been behind the attempt."

Her announcement brought the shock she expected and several men tried to speak at once, but her attention was on Splinters. His look of surprise struck her as absolutely authentic, which briefly made her reconsider. It was possible that he had utter mastery of his own responses, but that seemed as unlikely as that he wouldn't have poisoned her if he had the chance. She decided to simply move forward and raised a hand for quiet.

"I hope that I'm wrong, but I'll need to speak to her to find out. But first... Splinters, what do you know about this?"

"Me?" He stared for only a moment before his expression became pure hatred. "You think I did it?"

"Someone in the band delivered the poison. Look me in the eye and tell me it wasn't you."

"Fuck you." Splinters did stare directly back at her. "I had nothing to do with this."

He started to get up, but Big Ragh grabbed his arm and forced him back down. When Fijn came with manacles to bind his hands, Splinters didn't resist aside from his glare. Celivia was surprised that no members of her band objected, but she supposed that he'd made few friends among them as well, so she continued speaking.

"If you're innocent, we'll learn soon. How many soldiers does Jeraeli usually have with her?"

"Almost none," Ghasfik said, "and she's made few friends among the guards. I don't think any would support us, but they might look the other way. However, there's still one Catai keeping order in the lower pits who would stand with her."

"Then I want several of you to come with me to meet her. If I'm incorrect or we can negotiate an agreement, then we will only be guilty of acting too quickly. But there isn't time to wait for that, so I need some of you to begin an evacuation. Convince the guards first in any way you can. If they agree, the rest should follow."

She set Ghasfik in charge of the evacuation group and sent them away. Huthur joined them, but he nodded to her on his way out. That left her with Fijn, Big Ragh, Krafan, and Splinters, though Brifik surprised her by following them. Not the force she would have chosen to take on a Catai, but if it came to fighting, Celivia had always planned to do that herself. The others came with her to keep Splinters bound and hold off any guards.

As they walked around the side of the open pit, Celivia couldn't help but stare down over the many tiers of stone. Even if she failed in everything else, hundreds of women and enslaved workers would be rescued from the Hero's path. The fact that Melal had spared her did not incline her to gamble any other lives on his kindness, especially not if part of the Legend was truly present in the mine.

Splinters stared at the ground the whole way, though she didn't think she saw any guilt in his expression. Could she actually be entirely wrong? She desperately wanted to believe that Jeraeli wasn't responsible, even to the point of accepting an unlikely explanation for what she knew. At the least, she resolved to truly attempt to talk before making accusations.

Though she had anticipated a fight, there were only a few guards and workers on the lower floor of her office. They advanced to the second carefully and Big Ragh leaned close, striking a fist against his palm. "Say the word and we'll grab her."

"You need to be more careful than that with Jeraeli."

"Why? I know she's a Catai, but all she ever does is lie around and fuck that Feras. She's tiny, and she's not like you, Kaen. I could take her."

"Just be careful." It wasn't the time to tell him that even if Jeraeli wasn't the most devoted to her training, a well-chosen Catai form and a solid foundation made her much stronger than any partially trained soldier. Again, Celivia hoped that she was wrong.

At the entrance, she had the others stay back and keep Splinters bound, then she entered alone.

She found Jeraeli in her office, standing at her window and staring out over the rolling hills. When she heard them, she turned with an unwavering smile. For once she wore none of her jewelry, though her form-fitting combat robes and those pointed heels seemed nearly as impractical.

"Celi! My, that hair suits you almost as well. And you're certainly looking... healthy." She spoke casually, the look in her eyes suggesting that she noted every physical change. Then there was no point beginning anywhere else.

"Someone used reagents to force me into a natural rebirth. Was it you?"

"Someone prevented you from ruining your career by going against the Zeitai." Jeraeli didn't even try to deny it, still smiling as she always had. "You appear to have done quite well for yourself, and when you become a Catai, you can correct any minor inadequacies. In time, you'll thank me."

"What did you think any of this would accomplish aside from turning me against you?"

"Oh, Celi, all I needed was a delay. I believe we've found what the Zeitai was looking for, so all we need to do is hold it until he arrives. Once I've received credit for my work, then you can ruin your military career if you absolutely insist."

Though she had more questions, Celivia found herself momentarily speechless. She had anticipated some complex scheme, or some wedge she'd unknowingly driven between the two of them. All she heard in Jeraeli's voice was simple ambition and a willingness to throw away everything else in pursuit of it. Celivia silently apologized to Ghalia for doubting her: Jeraeli had been exploiting her from the very beginning.

"Don't glare like that, Celi." Jeraeli put her hands on her hips and stared back. "Are you really going to throw our friendship away over a few peasant women?"

"We obviously never had the friendship I thought we did." Celivia's sein pulsed through her wildly, urging her to attack, but she forced it down. Her sense of betrayal mattered less than the possibility of negotiating peacefully. "I had thought we wanted the same things."

"I admit, you've always been far more of an idealist and I may have said a trifle or two to make you like me. But really, Celi, I think we'd get along wonderfully if only you let go of a few of those ideals. Rescuing those women sounds noble enough, but have you ever actually spoken to any of them? They're wretched, thoughtless, inbred husks. This is the most they have to offer."

Celivia's nails bit into her own palms. She had wanted to tell Jeraeli about the Hero and negotiate a coordinated evacuation, but there was obviously no chance of that now. Wanting to give them more time to work, Celivia gestured to the soldiers outside. "Bring him in."

Big Ragh shoved Splinters to the floor as the others entered the room. Despite what she'd said, they loomed around Jeraeli in what she supposed was a show of their support for her. Except for Krafan, who appeared to be shrinking into a corner, eyes moving between the two of them.

"What's this?" Jeraeli stared at Splinters in pure surprise and Celivia felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. If she had been correct in so much, but wrong in this... Jeraeli abruptly let out a peal of laughter. "You think I was working with this miserable asshole? Oh no, the one you want is cringing behind you."

Though Splinters stared triumphant hatred at her, Celivia barely saw him. Instead her gaze fell on Krafan, who straightened and met her gaze like he rarely had before. "You? Why?"

"You've thought you were better than us from the very beginning. All I wanted was for you to look at me, give me a bit of respect, but you always scorned me." Once Krafan began speaking, the entitled rage tumbled out of him. "This is no better than you deserve, always flaunting yoursel-"

"Krafan here was surprisingly cooperative." Jeraeli pulled him to stand beside her, sharp nails walking up his shoulder as she smiled poisonously. "You look unhappy, Celi. Did you really think all your men accepted you so easily? Don't think I'm blind - I saw the scorn you paid me. I decided long ago that if I couldn't be accepted, I'd rather be worshiped."

Judging from the way Krafan trembled at her touch, he was obviously only a tool in her plan, yet Celivia found no forgiveness for him. Perhaps on another day she might have tried to understand him better, but the Hero was approaching and Jeraeli had utterly betrayed her. Negotiations had ended.

"Then I made an error." Celivia bent down and cut through Splinters's manacles, though he didn't thank her for it. "But you've made a worse one, sending away so many of your warriors. We're placing you under house arrest until I can safely evacuate the mine."

"Celi, Celi... do you really think so little of me?" Jeraeli put a finger to her lips coyly, ignoring the men who closed around her. Celivia gestured for them to back away.

"I'll handle h-"

Jeraeli's leg snapped out, her knife-like shoe breaking free and spinning through the air directly toward Celivia's face. It moved shockingly quickly and even her new speed only just redirected the spinning heel away from her face. In the time it took her to deflect it, Jeraeli had already moved.

Her bare foot connected with Fijn's stomach, sending him crashing through the window. Even as she did so, her other leg kicked her remaining heel directly up, where she easily caught it and then stabbed the knife point into Big Ragh's eye. He had barely begun to cry out and grasp it when Jeraeli stabbed Brifik and Splinters in the chest, her claws sinking deep.

As Celivia's band collapsed around her, Jeraeli gave a vicious smile. Celivia realized that it had all been an act, a distraction she had fallen for as thoroughly as so many others. Jeraeli might have enjoyed the fine clothing and the worship, but underneath it all lay a ruthless animal.

"I really thought we could have been good friends, Celi." The shortened name was clearly mocking now as Jeraeli walked over the bodies of her band. "But I cannot allow you to interfere. If you surrender, I'll give you a comfortable cell and try to talk some sense into you later. If you resist... that might not be so bad either."

Celivia drew her whip and started to swing, but Jeraeli was faster. The woman's hand flashed out and Celivia only just deflected the stab at her stomach. Her opponent pulled back and stabbed again with surprising speed, her claws jabbing out over and over until they passed her defenses and reached Celivia's shoulder.

It hurt, and Celivia could feel her blood around the claws, but they failed to penetrate deeply. Jeraeli's eyes widened as she realized that she had underestimated Celivia's durability, and that was time enough.

When Celivia attempted to stab her blade into Jeraeli's neck, the Catai thrust directly at her hand, disarming her with a flicking movement. Instead of retrieving her knife, Celivia simply reached in, grabbing the other woman's neck. Her opponent jabbed at at her arm, but Celivia slammed her into one of the walls and they both crashed through to the ground outside.

The impact hurt surprisingly little and Celivia leapt back to her feet, drawing her second knife. Yet Jeraeli hadn't risen, instead crooning, "Oh Myuneras... would you come here, dearest?"

Celivia caught a glimpse of golden fur before something lunged at her, impossibly fast. If not for her recent rebirth, the claws might have torn through her throat, and she only barely managed to deflect the stirke. The force of the blow sent her staggering backward, desperately lashing out with her whip on instinct, but the weapon was immediately knocked to the ground.

Myuneras stalked in front of her and she recognized the golden-furred Feras who had warmed Jeraeli's bed. He was strong, so strong that Celivia cast aside all thoughts but survival, but at that moment Jeraeli hopped to her feet and waved a hand in between them.

"I didn't mean kill her, Myuneras, just pin her down. I'm feeling generous, but even if not, we need to know why she attempted this desperate plan in the first place."

"Sorry." The Feras man stepped just behind her obediently, though he remained on the balls of his feet, ready to strike at any moment.

"If you haven't already figured it out, aside from being a beautiful man, Myuneras here is stronger than both of us." Jeraeli smiled and ran a hand through the shimmering fur atop his head. "The only reason he's working under me is that he's not bright enough to get ahead in the Zeitai's service. But with him here, you and your little band are hopelessly outclassed."

Celivia had mostly recovered, which wasn't enough to contradict the other woman's words. She looked past Jeraeli to the Feras man. "She insults you to your face like that?"

"Instead of behind my back." Myuneras stretched in the way she had seen before, though it now felt less sexual and more predatory. "I know I'm too slow for politics. But she's good at that. With her I can get closer to the Zeitai."

"You aren't as dim as all that," Jeraeli said, "just no politician. Did you do what I asked?"

"Yes. They're all tied up below."

"Good. Why don't you take a look, Celi?"

Even while suspecting a trick, Celivia walked to the edge of the mine with a sickening feeling in her stomach. When she peered down, she saw that the evacuation had been interrupted, a group of slaves huddling on the opposite wall. No doubt intimidated by Myuneras, but she sought her band...

A group of bodies lay tied up on one of the ridges near the bottom of the mine. She couldn't see clearly enough to be certain if they were alive, but she recognized Huthur's clothing. Their conversation had been Jeraeli buying time to allow her ally to stop Celivia's.

"I might let them live if you cooperate." Jeraeli walked to the edge with a smile on her face. "First, tell me why you began... all this madness I see below. You didn't think you could just steal the women away, did you? Through all of Portant?"

Part of Celivia wanted to keep her mouth shut. Let the Hero arrive and give Jeraeli a real shock, which she might use to escape. Yet she could see the terror below and it was easy to imagine Melal cutting his way through them. No, a petty blow against Jeraeli now would only be betraying her principles.

"Well, Celi? Threats and torture are such crude weapons, but if necessary..."

"The Hero is coming." Celivia turned to face both of them, trying to impart the weight of her experiences into her words. "He wants the same thing as the Zeitai, and he will kill every mansthein who stands in his path."

Jeraeli drew back, her smile vanishing. For just a moment Celivia felt relief that she had made the right choice, until the other woman turned to her companion and spoke tersely.

"Release the poison."

Chapter 58

-

"Meaningless steps took me to a dark library of ages, a place where even... [illegible] ...it is a small comfort to know that there are those whose lives served even less purpose than mine."

- excerpt from First of the Sages

-

All of them hid beneath the wagons except Veron, but as Tani's senses rolled over the landscape, she wondered if it mattered. She felt a mansthein perimeter, but no one stopped them. Their wagons simply trundled on and she felt nothing of consequence except the yawning pit ahead of them.

When they drew close, Melal departed again, claiming that he would gather his raider allies in time to conquer the mine. That gave them a precious hour in which they might be able to make a difference. Yet as they drew closer and the wagons slowed, Tani knew that something was wrong. She finally sensed more life ahead of them, but it was all very weak, no warriors at all.

"Well, shit." Veron's voice was muffled from outside the hidden compartment. "Maybe... you'd better come out. Something isn't right."

Tani wriggled back out of the hidden compartment, kicked open the panel, and crawled back into the sunlight. She should have been blinded by the noontime sun, yet she was surprised that her vision recovered almost immediately. Laeri was awkwardly crawling back with her staff and Slaten struggled in the small compartments, so she took the moment to leap up to the front of the wagon beside Veron.

The vast pit ahead of them was clearly the mine, but Tani immediately understood why Veron had stopped them. A large crowd of mansthein shifted over the ledges on one side, some crawling toward the surface as if escaping, but more staring back toward the bottom that Tani couldn't yet see. A closer look revealed that they were all thin and poorly dressed, with as many women as men. Certainly not soldiers, and there weren't any guards to be seen.

No, she then noticed several guards stationed on the carved tiers on the far side. But they ignored the sprawling mass of mansthein fleeing, instead staring below. Though she should have waited for the others, Tani crept forward to see what had everyone's attention.

Her immediate impression was a cauldron so vast that her sense of scale reeled. The bottom of the mine seethed with what she thought was green water at first, then realized was smoke-like fumes. They coiled all through the bottom of the mine, but the bottom surface was uneven, so several ridges of rock rose above the vapor like islands.

"Tani, don't just..." Veron trailed off as Tani sprinted forward, unable to resist as her attention was seized just like all the mansthein who watched.

Several people stood on the tallest of the islands, including Celivia kneeling with manacles around her wrists. She seemed to be alone, with another mansthein woman apparently her captor, backed by a Catai, a mansthein with golden fur, and a small group of soldiers. Careful observation as Tani descended the rocky tiers revealed that there were several other mansthein on one of the lower islands, coughing as the fumes whispered around their feet.

With no idea what was happening, Tani could only draw closer until she could finally listen. The words were all Futhik, but Slaten crept beside her and began to translate.

"The Zeitai is currently engaged in some work of great importance, so we only need to hold our position." The other woman was speaking, more to the assembled soldiers than to Celivia. She looked elegant in her combat robes and carried herself with a predatory grace, though strangely she was barefoot. "I don't know what could be so important, but the Zeitai's ways are not our ways. If we do prevent the humans from stealing the Zeitai's treasure, then there are likely promotions in everyone's future."

Celivia made no move to fight, but straightened to speak. "At least allow my band to move to a safer position. The poison is almost touching them."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Celi." The other woman turned and shook a finger at her. "We all need to work together to survive this, and I don't think that I can count on your cooperation, can I?"

"If you let the soldiers and the workers go, I'll do whatever you want."

"Oh, but I don't think you will. You did this to them, Celi, with your sad little coup."

One of the men on the lower island struggled to his feet despite being tightly bound around the legs. Though he shouted to be heard, he didn't sound desperate. "The poison is rising and it might fill the tunnels. You're condemning everyone still inside to death."

"Is this some trick?" The woman in charge turned to frown at him. "You were the one Myuneras caught investigating... you should know that all the poison was within the sealed tunnel. It might cover the bottom of the mine, but it will dissipate in the air before it reaches the occupied tunnels."

"There are back passages and ventilation shafts. The poison could already be reaching them."

Tani looked to the side at the same time as the mansthein woman and realized that her first analysis had missed something. There were multiple tunnels opening in the sides of the mine, most unoccupied, but several were locked shut by metal grates. Scrawny mansthein pressed against them, staring down at the scene below.

After regarding them briefly, the leader shrugged. "Even if you're telling the truth, that's not a risk I'm willing to take. I'll allow those you already evacuated to flee - consider that my little gift to you, Celi. No one else moves until we learn whether you were telling the truth about the Hero."

Celivia glowered at the other woman, but remained silent. Tani glanced over her shoulder and saw that the others were following her, though everyone but Slaten moved more cautiously instead of leaping down the side of the mine. If it came to a battle, Slaten and Veron could join her soon enough, but they would be outnumbered. The soldiers might be easy to handle, trapped on an island amid the poison with only one bridge, but the Catai was a major threat on his own and if Celivia wasn't trying to fight, the other two warriors must be strong.

"Jeraeli, be reasonable." A mansthein man Tani had barely noticed stepped up beside the leader, putting a hand on her upper arm. "The Zeitai wanted the pits as well as this treasure, so would he be happy with the workers and females dying?"

"I did not request your opinion, Krafan." The other woman pulled away from his hand in a motion Tani found familiar, and her glance toward him was long-suffering. "Be quiet."

"You know how much I risked for you! You took me as a partner in this and made promises, promises that you haven't kept. I'll not let you throw me aside like another of your toys!"

"I forgot how much of a spineless leech you could be. As this situation has already passed far beyond reason..." Jeraeli turned toward the golden-furred mansthein. "Myuneras, kill him."

Krafan stumbled back and started to yell something, but he barely had time to shout. Myuneras carried him by the neck to the edge of the rock, then in a single motion twisted his head off. He dropped both pieces into the poisonous fumes, which blossomed upward as if in response to the offering.

Slaten's translation had become steadily more strained and now he looked toward Tani, but she barely spared him a glance. Her eyes were on Celivia, who knelt in apparent defeat, but her arms flexed within her manacles. She might have been able to break them already, but she thought that she was outnumbered, her men threatened, and her position hopeless.

Not only was the poison rising, Melal was surely on his way with another army conjured from the hopeful. If it arrived like this, the situation would become the slaughter they all feared, but what could be done?

"This ain't right, Kaen." The silence was broken not by any of the warriors, but by one of the soldiers behind Jeraeli. He winced when she turned her gaze on him, but even though he'd just seen a man's head torn off, he stepped forward. "Those men have been working themselves to the bone, and those women... they didn't ask for this. We can't just leave them to die."

"Was one demonstration not enough?" Jeraeli reached out toward the man's throat, but glanced over her shoulder to Myuneras. "Disable Celivia permanently. I'll deal w-"

One of the other soldiers swung a club at Jeraeli's face. It didn't break her skin, but she staggered a step, eyes wide with surprise that he had dared to attack. All at once everyone began to move, Myuneras bearing down on Celivia and Jeraeli reaching out to kill the soldier who had struck her.

Tani moved before anyone else could. She leapt to the island feet first, all her momentum striking the golden-furred mansthein in the chest. It felt like kicking stone, but he stumbled back and fell into the green mists below.

Celivia saw her and tore the manacles apart, but Tani was already moving past her. She began by throwing two knives, biting into Jeraeli's back before she could kill any of the soldiers. Her blades cut through fabric, but only drew shallow cuts on the woman's skin. She turned with an imperious glare, just in time for Slaten to swing directly at her face.

She deflected the blow with her forearms, which somehow endured the blade, but the impact staggered her. Instead of falling from the side, she dropped back to a slightly lower slope, fumes curling around her legs.

The soldiers immediately fell on her, battering her while she was off balance, driving her deeper into the mists. Tani worried that Jeraeli would finish them off quickly, but several struck with limited sein training and it seemed that she feared the mists. Only the Catai remained as a threat, but he hesitated and Veron was leaping to land beside them as well, so Tani had time to find Celivia.

Though the other woman wasn't far away, the battle had drawn mists onto the island, and Tani shivered at the feel of the poison around her ankles. Whenever it brushed against her it left a sheen like oil, and the bitter scent burned in her nostrils. She didn't want to test her body against it, but Veron had no such compunctions, bending down for a whiff, then pulling up sharply.

"That's foul." Veron spoke casually, but then coughed painfully. "Too many breaths of that might kill me, so if you fall in, try not to breathe at all."

"Some warriors can survive it, but it's designed to kill even those with sein training." Celivia spoke as she walked closer to them and Tani ignored the mist to look over her more carefully.

"Are you alright?" Tani asked. The other woman tossed the remnants of her manacles to the ground with an expression between a grimace and a grin.

"That depends on if we survive to the end of the day."

~ ~ ~

Slaten rotated slowly on his heel, trying to keep the entire battle within his sight. Jeraeli was being beaten into the poison by a combination of soldiers and warriors while the Catai was held back by Veron, but he didn't think either was the true threat. He didn't even hear Celivia and Tani, simply watched the mists.

If his brief impressions were correct, the most dangerous person in the mine was the golden-furred mansthein they had called Myuneras. Slaten suspected that he was a Feras mansthein based on descriptions, but that was irrelevant compared to his strength. While it was possible that the poison had claimed him, Slaten thought it unlikely.

A pair of crimson eyes burned through the fumes. Myuneras prowled back onto the island, pulling free of the poisonous mist. It trailed from his mouth as he breathed, but it didn't seem to have harmed him in the slightest.

His eyes were on Jeraeli, moving to rescue her from the soldiers, so he didn't see Slaten strike. Yet he turned with fluid speed, deflecting the thrust and then reversing his arm to backhand Slaten in the chest. It was only a casual blow, yet it sent him staggering several steps.

If not for his strengthened body, he would have at least broken ribs. As he'd feared, Myuneras was strong, perhaps strong enough that all of them combined would struggle against him.

Assuming that he had Tani and Veron to fight alongside him, Slaten moved to intercept Myuneras. Yet as the Feras mansthein's eyes turned on him furiously, he realized that the two women had leapt to another island to assist Celivia's band. Some of them had begun coughing violently even from the wisps that reached them, so they did need help, but that left him alone against a superior opponent.

Again the Feras struck, and Slaten evaded only by rapidly retreating. He landed on one of the lower islands, up to his ankles in poison, but he was surprised by how many fumes rushed upward from his feet. Worse, his opponent followed immediately, launching a series of strikes and kicks. It was all Slaten could do to defend himself and he ended up inhaling a full breath of the mists swept up around them.

When he finally pulled free, he expected to feel his lungs burning. To his surprise, there was no pain, not even the slightest urge to cough. Yet his opponent watched him with a predatory gaze, stalking from side to side, and Slaten realized that he was at an increased disadvantage. Not only was his back against a sea of poison, he had only survived the encounter, while his opponent had taken his measure.

Myuneras snarled and leapt at him, a streak of gold.

The streak cut off as Veron appeared in front of Slaten, deflecting the claws. She didn't simply deflect them, she held her blade in a static block that ended the savage charge. Veron glanced over her shoulder and smirked at him. "This one's mine. I'll leave the rest to you kids."

Though the Feras mansthein launched a vicious assault, every strike as swift as the first, Veron managed to keep up with him. When her blade sliced at her opponent's chest, he leapt backward off the island, as if he feared she might actually cut him. Veron pursued and the two of them clashed again in midair before landing on one of the rocky ramps on the side of the mine and continuing to exchange blows.

He had known Veron was strong, but this was different. All the ferocity of her sein that he'd seen before, now channeled more intensely. Unable to assist her without becoming a liability, Slaten turned back to the others instead.

First he noted the Catai, who was struggling to crawl from the poison with several long cuts on his arms that must have been dealt by Veron. Jeraeli had gained the upper hand and killed several soldiers while he watched, but they had a moment to breathe. Celivia and Tani had moved to the side of the mine, having carried all the band with them. Though the men looked exhausted and a few still coughed, it seemed that they hadn't breathed too many of the fumes. Slaten leapt across the sea of green to join them.

"Can Veron actually fight Myuneras?" Celivia asked. Her eyes shifted rapidly as she followed the battle.

"We'll have to trust him to her," Slaten said. "But the battle will matter less than the evacuation when Melal arrives. What can we do?"

"We need to unlock the grates keeping the rest in the tunnels. I'm not sure if you can cut steel, but that might be..." She was interrupted when one of her soldiers stepped forward, presenting a heavy iron key. "Good, thank you. Then the question is who we can spare to help them escape. Given the fighting, they may not want to leave, but if the poison is reaching their tunnels..."

"Can I help?" Laeri walked down the nearest ramp, concern in her eyes as she watched all the poison below. "If you breathe too much of that, I don't know how much I'll be able to heal you..."

"We can work together." Tani smiled and took the other woman's arm as well as the key. "I'll jump us to the grates, then you can help them all evacuate."

"Are you certain?" Laeri asked. "I... I had hoped to help with more than that..."

"You can." Celivia gestured toward the smaller building on the surface. "Several of my men are up there. I don't know if they're still alive, but if they are, they need your help. We'll bring any other injured to you."

Though Laeri nodded eagerly and seemed to want to leave, Slaten found his eyes lingering on the poison filling the bottom of the mine. "Why did she flood this place with poison?"

"Jeraeli believes that we've found the seal. The poison was her last resort to prevent the Hero from taking it, even if he manages to seize the mine. It isn't strong enough to bring down a Catai, but I don't know if a human could be strong enough to resist it."

Tani shook her head. "I breathed a little while we were helping your soldiers and it felt awful. Don't let anyone fall into it."

"I breathed some," Slaten said. When everyone shifted to look at him, he instead turned to Laeri. "Can you check if the poison is killing me and I simply haven't noticed?"

She nodded and placed a hand on his chest, but only a heartbeat later she shook her head. "I don't feel any poison. Your Bloodskin body must be able to resist it like a Catai."

Celivia immediately turned to him and grabbed his shoulders. "Then you need to get the seal, Slaten. It's on the other side, the tunnel where the poison is thickest. We'll try to fight Myuneras and evacuate, but I don't know if we'll be fast enough. Our best hope might be you bringing the seal to Melal before he can attack the mine at all."

It was close enough to a plan. The group nodded to each other, then parted. Tani picked up Laeri and began jumping toward the locked tunnels, while Celivia supported her band. Slaten tried to determine the quickest path to the other side of the mine, but froze as he looked below.

Jeraeli emerged from the poisonous mists, covered in blood not her own and dragging the corpse of one of the guards behind her. When they had first arrived, she had always been poised, as if admiring her own clothes instead of standing on a battlefield. As she clenched her bloody claws and smiled, he saw none of that poise, only a ruthless warrior.

The time for plans was over.

He began to run, keeping his head low as he approached the tunnel of roiling fumes. Though Laeri had said he was healthy, he still hesitated to enter such thick mists. He could dimly see a torch in a basin beside the tunnel entrance, but lighting it in the mists might not help him much.

"The humans are stealing the Zeitai's treasure!" He heard Jeraeli call from the central island, pointing toward him. On the side of the mine, the Catai began lumbering toward him, picking up speed as he reached a straight section of the stone.

Slaten turned and threw himself into the poison.

~ ~ ~

Celivia had only just retrieved her weapons when she heard Jeraeli's cry. The other woman's hair was askew and she was covered in blood, but otherwise she showed no sign whatsoever of all the soldiers who had battered her. Despite what she had claimed, her rebirth had given her a Catai's armored skin.

Above them, Laeri had unlocked the tunnels and the women and workers were beginning to follow her up the side. Those few guards that remained were in shock at what they had seen below, but it didn't seem that they would stop the refugees. Not after they had witnessed Jeraeli massacre their friends.

She stood alone on the island, poisonous mists curling around her as she turned, taking in the changed situation at a glance. Then she leapt toward Tani and the evacuees.

As soon as the other woman had left the ground, Celivia jumped to intercept her. In midair she saw Jeraeli turn, readying her claws, and realized that closing might have been a mistake, but it was too late for either of them to change their paths.

Her whip snapped out first, trying to catch Jeraeli in the face but deflected. As Celivia's sein flowed down the whip, it shifted course to lash downward, but only opened a shallow wound on the other woman's shoulder.

Then they collided, their combined momentum taking them toward the wall of the mine. Jeraeli thrust out and Celivia grunted as she felt the claws dig into her stomach, but before the next quick stab, she dropped her knife and grabbed her opponent's arm. They continued to spin but Celivia pulled so their final tumble put Jeraeli's back to the rock.

Their impact cracked the stone, but though Jeraeli took the brunt of the impact, she shrugged it off. When they fell away from the wall, Jeraeli landed on top of her, claws going for her eyes. Their limbs tangled as attempts at blows became a messy grapple.

Except that Celivia's tail twisted from beneath her, striking... uselessly.

Jeraeli grinned and rose, tugging at Celivia's tail to keep her off balance. She attempted to draw her second knife and strike, only for Jeraeli to reverse course and kick, sending her skidding across the dusty rock.

She barely gripped an outcropping, her momentum taking her body over the edge, her legs swinging through the poison. Celivia desperately tried to pull herself up before her opponent could take advantage, but Jeraeli didn't attempt to attack her.

Instead she rushed toward Tani.

Though Tani saw her coming and began throwing knives, Jeraeli's claws were equally fast, deflecting them in all directions. She closed the distance between them before Celivia could even return to her feet, leaving her heart in her throat as those claws lunged at Tani.

Somehow the Rhen woman drew her sickle knife and warded off her opponent, but Jeraeli grabbed the blade as it passed and wrenched it aside while kicking Tani in the leg. Tani stumbled back, straining to defend herself, but Jeraeli left her again, moving to the tunnels...

Where she slammed the grate closed in the faces of several shocked workers. Then, with exquisite slowness compared to the speed of combat, she locked the grate. Jeraeli turned to her, the key against her lips in a mocking kiss, then she tossed it into the poison below.

Once, Celivia would have believed it was simply spiteful, but now she understood that it was purely calculated. Jeraeli needed to divide them and waste their time, which was exactly what her ploy had done. Perhaps half the noncombatants had left the tunnels, and Jeraeli wasn't stopping them from following Laeri, but that left hundreds more trapped within. Though Celivia considered leaping after the key, she decided for a more direct approach.

When she reached the level of the tunnel, Celivia raced to catch up with Tani. They attacked together, Tani's knives lashing out repeatedly even as Celivia cracked her whip. Every time Jeraeli attempted to catch one of their weapons, she was immediately threatened by another, driving her steadily back. One of Tani's knives even opened a cut on Jeraeli's arms, but the Catai could outlast both of them.

They didn't need to last forever. When Tani landed a throw that sent Jeraeli stumbling back, Celivia turned from her to the grate. She might not have the key, but her rebirth had given her sein a ferocious strength she'd never had before.

Throwing her sein and blood into the same motion, Celivia heaved at the grate. It had been well-crafted, designed to keep out even trained warriors, but the metal squealed as it began to give. On the other side, she was surprised to see Puga alongside several of the workers and a few women.

"The... the poison..." Puga sounded terrified and kept looking over his shoulder, where she saw wisps of green slithering across the floor. "It's getting closer."

"Just wait." Celivia braced her feet and tried again. Her hands were twisting the steel, and she could see the hinges beginning to give, so she only needed a little more...

Something struck the side of her face. Without her feet braced, Celivia went flying, skidding across the rocky tier far from the door.

As she rose to her feet, feeling blood trickling down the side of her head, she saw what had happened. Tani had been forced to retreat to one of the islands amid the poison, which had given Jeraeli enough time to attack. After examining the failed attempt to break the door, Jeraeli smirked and leapt out to the center as well.

Targeting Tani. Celivia realized that Jeraeli was exploiting her commitments again, tempting her to return to the door and leave Tani alone. There was no time to do both, as Tani was struggling to defend herself, retreating down the ridge into the poison.

Then she had a choice to make. Her feet had left the ground before she realized that she'd made it.

Celivia lashed out with her whip, but Jeraeli deflected both attempts easily. A moment later her smirk became pain as one of Tani's knives dug into her thigh. Jeraeli grasped the blade and tore it out, but then Celivia struck her knife-first.

The knife went deep and Jeraeli tumbled backward, falling into the poisonous mists. Yet even as she landed, she returned to her feet, eyes glowing through the green haze. Then those eyes closed, and Jeraeli began to move, circling around their small island. Though the disruption of the mist made it easy to track her movements, that trail of green could strike at any time.

"Isn't she weakening yet?" Tani asked. The Rhen woman had more than a few cuts and bruises, but shifted to the center looking out.

"Not yet." Celivia stepped to guard her back and they remained in place, conserving their strength instead of trying to track Jeraeli's movements.

Yet slowing down made Celivia aware of the deep pain stabbing into her gut. She could keep fighting, but with each movement the injury bled more through her robes. Worst of all, Jeraeli was the one who wanted to delay their battle. She was intentionally taunting them, hoping that Celivia would attempt to jump back to the door. If she did, she would certainly be punished for it.

Every movement of the mist reminded her that Puga and many others could be dying of poison. Celivia looked desperately for someone else to help, hoping that Slaten would emerge from the tunnel or that Veron would finish her fight. But the smoke only roiled from its source and Veron was still doing battle with Myuneras overhead.

Then she spotted a small figure creeping along the lowest ledge of the mine near where the key had fallen. Celivia recognized Splinters a moment before he plunged over the edge.

~ ~ ~

Just what was she doing? Laeri asked herself that over and over as she continued shuffling ahead. She believed in the Legend, she truly did. For so long she had held on to the hope that humanity could achieve a glorious victory and that the Deathspawn could be eradicated forever.

And yet here she was, leading so many of them to safety.

When Celivia had appeared again, Laeri had felt happy even though she should have been upset. Yet the further she went from that moment, the more guilt crowded into her mind. If a younger version of herself could see her now, would she feel shame? Horror? Disgust?

"Move!" The Deathspawn named Ghasfik did the yelling, which was good, because Laeri was too uncertain to raise her voice. He seemed to be good at it, convincing everyone to move faster and follow his commands. Now they had reached the top, though the line behind them struck her as too short. Something terrible had happened below, but the longer she looked at the others fighting, the worse she felt.

"What do we do now?" One of the other Deathspawn turned to her and Laeri blinked in surprise.

Her? She wasn't sure if she wanted to be helping them at all, much less how she should be helping. Yet now more were staring at her, she needed to say something... "I... the Portantese errants here are your allies, right? Is there an outpost nearby?"

"Due south. Keeping an eye on us."

"Then send them there." Laeri found more strength as she spoke, though each word weighed heavily on her heart. "Tell them it's an evacuation and, umm... that you're going to leave Portant for good. They should evacuate everyone to safety, right?"

Instead of answering her, Ghasfik simply turned and began shouting again. "Stop watching the warriors and march! Go south until you reach the human outpost, and tell them Kaen Celivia rescued you!" He repeated the words in Futhik and Reili, yelling the scared group into action.

As she saw them go, Laeri still didn't know what she was supposed to feel. Would Melal shout at her when she returned? It would have been so much easier if they had let her remain behind and simply heal. That was all she was good at, though even there, she had betrayed her oaths...

"This way, Naena." Though she didn't understand all the Deathspawn's strange words or accented Coran, she followed numbly when he led her toward the large building. "There are injured that need your help."

"Injured?" Laeri looked up in hope, then felt further guilt for it. Everything became even worse when she saw that the injured people were both Deathspawn. One lying on his back and groaning, several bones broken, while the other bled from a strange knife still deep in his eye.

As she walked toward them, Laeri found herself thinking of the horrible decision she'd made to let Chief Bufogu die. The Bloodskin clan was in chaos because of her selfishness, because she had abandoned her duties as a healer.

Yet the men before her were Deathspawn. She knew in her heart that her oaths were only meant for humans, and that every Deathspawn who perished was a victory for their side. Even if these were Celivia's allies, they would only try to stop Melal, and they would die in the end. And yet there was a shallow understanding of the words of her commitments, not the spirit, and those words told her to heal all those she could.

Slowly Laeri sank to her knees beside the first Deathspawn. She had taken decisions of life and death into her own hands and she still suffered for it. This time, she would simply heal and let the Legend sort out destiny.

~ ~ ~

Slaten stumbled down the corridor nearly blind, regretting every breath. Some light filtered in from the outside, but as he went deeper, he would soon be in darkness, the green so deep it was nearly black. He felt lightheaded and his body was breathing much deeper, which could be the first stages of the poison. All he could do was press on.

He saw a light around a corner and advanced carefully, but discovered that it was only a fallen torch, the rags burning against the ground. It had fallen from the hands of a corpse that lay across the tunnel. As Slaten picked up the torch, he observed the emaciated mansthein man. Blood covered his chin and shirt, while his eyes and nose were horribly burned. If that was the effect of the poison, then Slaten thought he could yet continue.

Yet as he moved forward, the path split, forcing his first decision. If this mine was like the one in Ith Ire, then it would be branching corridors clawing blindly in the rock. He needed to continue moving deeper, as his current tunnels had smooth floors and unlit torches along the walls, as if they were commonly used.

Descending a ramp, Slaten observed less finished tunnels, but he wasn't certain if he was closer. Despite his distance from the surface, the clashing of steel still echoed to him from above, slicing apart his concentration. Though he felt a bright pit in his stomach, it was nothing he could possibly use to find the seal.

Then he heard what he had known was coming: the pounding of the Catai's feet catching up to him. He lit the torch from the entrance and held one in each hand.

Slaten raised his torches behind him and waited to catch a glimpse. When the Catai came into view, eclipsing the tunnel, Slaten's instincts told him to run. But there was nothing behind him except the seal, if anything. He got one good look, then hurled his spare torch at the Catai's face. Though the man smashed it aside with his bare hands, the sudden light made his pupils shrink, hopefully ruining his ability to see in the dark.

As he fled, Slaten considered his options. Not to escape, but to fight, mad as that seemed. The Catai had taken serious injuries from Veron and held one arm stiffly, though that didn't slow him enough for them to be equals. But the other thing Slaten had seen during his glimpse was that the Catai wielded a long two-handed sword.

When Slaten found a narrow corridor with a level floor, he dropped his torch, drew his sword, and waited. As soon as the Catai charged into view, he struck.

He was surprised that his cut actually landed, scoring a line of blood across the Catai's chest. It bit deeper than it once would have, but it wasn't enough to slow the hulking mass of sein. The Catai swung his sword one-handed, awkward in the tunnel but more than enough to force him to step back.

With the tunnel walls tight around them, Slaten could almost hold his own. The Catai was limited in his ability to swing, allowing Slaten to push aside his clumsy strikes and then thrust back. Several times the tip of his sword nicked the Catai's flesh, but it always failed to cut deep. He might be able to bleed out his opponent if he could endure long enough, but a killing blow remained beyond him.

"Coward!" The Catai let out a roar and charged directly at him, forcing Slaten to rapidly retreat. A human charging that way might get themselves killed, but a Catai could endure a counterattack and continue rushing forward.

But he wasn't fast enough. The sword shot out at him and he needed to duck backward to escape it, and a moment later the Catai's boot came after it.

Though he could see it coming, there was nothing he could do to prevent it colliding with his chest and sending him flying back, bouncing off the wall and then the floor. The most he could do was prevent himself from losing his sword or stabbing himself.

When Slaten managed to pull back to his feet, the sound echoed strangely. As the Catai followed, torch still held in his other hand, Slaten realized that he was standing in a larger chamber. There were three tunnels that went deeper, but two he could see had already ended and the third looked dangerously crooked. He had no choice but to fight in the chamber, without his primary advantage.

A fair victory was impossible, but Slaten thought he had a chance of winning if his opponent underestimated him, which was why he had fought cautiously and avoided using a hammer stroke. Yet he already felt himself slowing down, so as he focused on his sein, he knew that he needed to put everything into the next exchange.

Grinning, the Catai tossed his torch to the ground and gripped his sword with both hands. His first swing rang against the air itself, sweeping a deadly arc through the chamber.

Slaten only just managed to duck underneath it and struck back, this time relying more on strength than speed. The Catai attempted to push the thrust aside and grunted when Slaten's blade dug into his side. Yet he responded with a vicious backswing that Slaten only barely blocked, then struck him in the chest with the pommel of his sword, driving him against the wall.

But as the Catai reared back for a killing blow, Slaten reversed his grip as well, slamming the hilt of his sword into the Catai's face.

Both of them recoiled from the blow, Slaten staggering to the wall as the enormous body hit the floor. He'd forced as much of his sein into that exchange as he possibly could and it left him exhausted as his body drank in what remained. Following with another blow was no longer possible.

Which meant that he was dead, because the Catai pulled himself back to his feet. His nose was broken and blood poured down his face, but he was only somewhat stunned. Before Slaten could recover, the large mansthein gripped his sword and returned to his feet.

Without intending to, Slaten slumped to one knee, held up only by using his sword to support himself. Though he wanted to continue fighting, he recognized that it was hopeless. The simple fact was that he didn't have enough left. He needed his strengthened body to keep up with the Catai and he equally needed to invest his sein in his speed and his attacks. Any of those alone was useless and so he might as well have been exhausted.

Yet as the Catai advanced, dragging his sword over the rock, Slaten felt a strange sense of peace. He had fought long enough, but now the Hero would finish the battle.

Slaten pushed himself up to die as unpeacefully as he could.

~ ~ ~

Though Celivia should have been keeping her eyes on Jeraeli, who was still sliding through the poison ready to surprise them, she couldn't help but look toward the edge of the mine. She had just started to think that Splinters had died in the mists when he pulled himself up over the edge. Celivia jerked her gaze away, not wanting to alert Jeraeli.

When she turned to check Tani, she was surprised to see that the other woman had her eyes closed. Yet she appeared to be fully aware of everything around her, so Celivia decided to trust the other woman's senses. The currents of mist could be deceptive, but sein would be more reliable.

Without warning a pair of rocks hurtled from out of the mist toward them. It was not the first time Jeraeli had attacked at range and Celivia simply knocked one of them away... but she saw that Tani turned in her dodge, focusing toward their side.

Jeraeli leapt from the mists, trailing poison, her claws stabbing for them both.

Tani had anticipated the attack, but only had time to hurl a single knife that was easily deflected. Celivia used her warning to lash out with her whip. Jeraeli crossed her arms and caught the blow there, letting its momentum knock her back into the poison. She could wear them down, after all, and the fumes had risen to their knees.

But now the equation had changed. Celivia dared to look and saw that Splinters had dragged himself to the second tier, almost to the door. Puga was desperately reaching for the key, but they weren't near enough yet. While pretending to scan the mists, Celivia spoke quietly to Tani.

"Don't look, but one of my band has almost reached the door."

"Then the others have a chance to escape." Though Tani nodded grimly, her tone was much lighter.

"When they do, I suspect Jeraeli will try to use them against me. I'm going to fall into her trap and I need you to exploit that moment."

Before Jeraeli attacked again, the door was finally wrenched open. Several workers rushed out, gasping for breath so loudly that they ruined any chance of stealth. Puga attempted to lift Splinters back to his feet, but the other man struggled feebly.

Jeraeli leapt from the mist toward them, landing on the first tier of the mine. She could have attacked, but she delayed just a moment to let herself be seen, then jumped toward the fleeing women in a predictable arc.

Celivia leapt to stop her. Just as she'd feared, Jeraeli stepped off the rocky wall and whirled to face her, claws flying. Though Celivia managed to deflect the first, she knew she'd feel those claws in her chest...

A throwing knife buried itself in Jeraeli's side and she grimaced in pain. While still in midair, Celivia slammed her palm against the hilt, driving it deep.

Both of them crashed into the poisonous mists. Celivia landed on her feet and attempted to kick at her fallen opponent, but struck nothing. She had held her breath, but her eyes burned painfully, so she urgently retreated. When she landed on the outer level of the mine, she saw the torn fumes settling back into place, no sign of Jeraeli.

That would certainly not have killed her, but it might have slowed her down. Blinking away the pain in her eyes, Celivia staggered over to the door, where Puga still lingered next to Splinters. She read his expression immediately: though Splinters still lived, he wouldn't last for long. His face was covered in his own blood and his eyes were so bloodshot he didn't seem capable of seeing from them.

"Splinters..." She knelt down beside him, not sure what to say. "I don't think we can save you. But you saved them. Can you at least give me your real name so we can remember you?"

"It..." After a hacking cough, Splinters spat his own blood into her face, giving her one last glare. "It wasn't for you."

Then he collapsed back, his rasps slowly fading. Celivia wanted to remain by his side and try to understand just what had driven him. Had it been hatred, even at the end? Yet she knew that they had little time, and the greater threat of Melal still loomed, so she forced herself back to her feet to speak to Puga.

"Get all the rest of these people away. Follow the others, if you can."

"Yes, Kaen." He nodded briefly and then began herding the others. The second phase of the evacuation was going poorly, threatened by the ongoing battle between Veron and Myuneras. They violently threw themselves between the sides, triggering a collapse that sent the evacuees scattering. Puga went after some, and Tani rescued another from falling over the side, but they were all at risk.

But Celivia knew that she couldn't afford to guide them and could only trust her allies. Especially when she saw Jeraeli standing on the lowest island in the mine, poison swirling around her, hands slightly raised to her sides.

Waiting. This time there was no mockery or feints, only a burning gaze that Celivia knew she needed to answer.

Chapter 59

-

"I have met a man and a woman who were neither. For the first time, I found someone who understood my... [section destroyed] ...though his drive is terrible, it is her vision of our path that consumes my dreams. For the first time, I am glad that I will not live to see those days."

- excerpt from First of the Sages

-

Veron liked to keep her feet firmly on the ground when she fought but, well, there was fucking poison everywhere. That meant she spent far too much of her time in the air, and she wasn't happy about it.

Hopping around in a fight like a man with a rat down his pants was just suicide. Young warriors thought they could get away with it, but they were making themselves targets. Even ordinary archers could notice someone spinning around like a loon and try to put some arrows into them. Worst of all, unless you had some fancy inner strength technique, jumping made your movement entirely predictable.

But if there had been any archers, they might as well have just sat around and jerked themselves off. Given the speed of her fight with Myuneras, they simply wouldn't have mattered.

Their battle took them soaring above the mine, running along its walls, skimming across the islands above the poisonous fog. Veron didn't need to focus for such large jumps, her body simply obeyed, as if she picked herself up and hurled herself at her opponent. And the fur-covered mansthein fighting her might look strange, but he was just as fast, leaping to meet her over and over.

Whatever the hell Olondris did to keep herself firmly planted, Veron didn't have it. Each time Myuneras landed a really solid hit, he sent her flying back through the air. It should have been terrifying, yet when she struck rock on the other side of the mine, it only hurt a bit. And when she hit back, he went flipping through the air too, so fair was fair.

Once again he came at her, snarling, trying to get a firm grip. She decided to let him and he promptly slammed her against the rock wall, then reached for her neck. But that was when Veron slipped out of his grasp, her sword coming around to nick his arm again.

He staggered back, recovering before she could take advantage. She deflected his next two swipes, dodged the third, then his leg was snapping out at hers. Veron barely dodged back and saw his hand coming. All she could do was brace her hands on her sword and block the blow.

And into the air again. As she sailed back, she saw him leaping after her, as he always did. This time, she'd make him pay for it.

The one thing Olondris had never been able to criticize was her ability to pour a huge amount of sein into a single blow, and Veron used every bit of it now. He raised a forearm to deflect it while his other claw prepared to strike, but her sword hit him like an aurochs, biting to the bone and sending him plummeting.

Like a behemoth? They didn't really have aurochs in the north. Fuck it, Veron was just glad to see him crash below, a plume of mist rising where he fell.

She landed awkwardly at the edge of one of the ridges, teetering on the edge of falling into the poison. So far she had pretended that she didn't care, so that Myuneras wouldn't press his advantage, but the truth was that she needed to stay out of it. Veron's training had corrected sloppy use of sein and sharpened her up, but no one could remake their body in a day. From the few wisps she'd tasted, Veron thought that poison... well, it wouldn't be healthy.

Since it was taking Myuneras some time to get back up, Veron looked around the mine carefully. The kids had all been fighting their own battles, a bit slow compared to the arcing fight overhead. Early on she had considered trying to intervene when she had a chance, but she decided against it. So far, Myuneras had remained focused on her, without trying to kill them. It was for the best that he stayed that way, because she didn't want him twisting the head off one of the kids.

All at once he lunged out of the mists. Not wanting to fight on the little island, Veron just leapt backward to the lowest of the tiers. She tried to slash at him when he followed, but he dodged aside, her sword only slicing some of his flowing fur.

He responded with an upward blow so forceful that it knocked her into the air. Veron barely managed to grasp the side of the ledge and pulled her legs up before he slashed at them. She rolled to her feet and found that he was already there.

Off-balance, all she could do was play defense, retreating further and further up the side of the mine as her opponent pressed his advantage. He had stamina, that was for sure. The side had looked like endless tiers of stone, but now that she was using them to defend herself, they eroded rapidly above her.

At the very top, Veron tried to throw the momentum back at him, but her foot slipped on a loose rock. Her swing went wide and in a flash he grabbed her blade, his other hand raking at her face.

Lines of pain tore across it and her head snapped back. All she knew was that she still had both eyes and that his claws were coming for her throat next.

When she tugged her blade from his hand, he flinched for a fraction of a moment, and that was enough. Her boot came up between his legs and landed solidly. He let out a silent snarl and lashed out, scoring another wound on her shoulder and knocking her sword from her hands.

She reached out and grabbed his mane of hair, jerking him to the side. His eyes went wide as if in shock and she slammed her forehead directly into them.

They both staggered back, nursing multiple wounds. Veron scrabbled for her sword, assuming that she would need to defend herself, but to her surprise Myuneras hadn't attacked again. He didn't clutch at his crotch, he simply looked at her and laughed.

"You are strong." His Coran came with a thick mansthein accent, but the words were in his eyes anyway.

"Yeah, you too." Veron let herself rest her hands on her knees for a bit, just aching all over. Blood was dripping down into her eye and from a torn lip, which meant that his claws had very nearly taken her eye. It stung like hell and she'd bet it would leave a scar.

They didn't attack one another again immediately. Though they had fought long and hard, driven by their sein, eventually even they needed a moment to catch their breath. When he didn't seem inclined to attack her immediately, Veron decided to speak up again.

"Why are you fighting for her, anyway?"

He shrugged, muscles rippling through his chest. "I like fight." When he looked at her, she realized that she had been expecting his eyes to be slitted, like a cat, but they were round. "You are what rank?"

"Fuck ranks."

"Ha! Yes, fuck ranks." The laugh made him wince, but even after he continued to grin hungrily. "I am sorry I kill you."

"Don't get ahead of yourself. If we're talking, at least tell me: is Jeraeli that good in bed?"

His head tilted to the side and at first she thought he didn't understand. "She is beautiful and selfish. I accept."

"I hear you there." Veron finally straightened, wringing out her hands and preparing to grip her sword again. "Alright, I don't suppose we can just sit down and have a drink instead of fighting?"

"No." Again that hungry smile.

"Then I suppose we should get to killing each other again."

He raised his claws in front of him, and for a bit Veron thought he was pleading, then she felt the deadly intent behind his posture. When she tried to attack him again, his style had changed. Instead of slashing like a wild animal, relying on his strength and speed, he kept his movements to a minimum. Her feints were dodged and her blows deflected, but he didn't attempt to attack.

Fuck that. Rather than falling into his trap, Veron stepped over the side of the mine, falling to the lower level. She thought she heard a laugh, then he came after her. As she retreated, she managed to bring out more of his ferocity, but he kept it tightly constrained, coiled and waiting to be unleashed.

If she'd had all the time in the world to train with Olondris, she might have had something to counter him. But Veron didn't have anything up her sleeve, and she'd never been much for fancy tricks anyway. She just kept moving, trying to create an opening. Her blade had cut to the bone on his left arm, and though it didn't move slow, it must be weaker.

He struck low again, launching her into the air and across the mine. But this time, he didn't follow directly, instead sprinting across the ridges just above the poison, arriving on the other side first with his feet trailing poisonous mist.

She tried to react, but he was too fast. His claws dug deep into her stomach and twisted, drawing a cry of pain from her. In another heartbeat he'd tear out her guts, so she slammed the hilt of her sword into the wound on his arm. This time he finally gave way, staggering to the side, and she stabbed deep into his stomach.

Then his foot connected with her chest. She sailed back, momentarily peaceful in the air, until she fell into the mists and the poison closed around her.

~ ~ ~

As they danced over the poison, Tani forced herself to remain back and stick to their strategy. She rarely even drew her sickle knife because in hand to hand combat, she simply couldn't compete. Celivia and Jeraeli were much stronger than she was, even with sein, and each time they clashed, their blows fell faster than she could follow.

Keeping her distance, however, she turned the tide of the fight. She could hold the sein within her knives and throw them over and over again, every attempt equally lethal without draining her. Though Jeraeli rarely let any through her defenses, the fact that she had learned to fear them meant that Tani could pressure her.

At last Celivia pulled free, bleeding from several new wounds but still standing. Tani hurled three knives in quick succession, keeping Jeraeli at range. That gave Celivia time to unfurl her whip and lash out with another of those snake-like strikes. Though Jeraeli deflected it, she was knocked backward a step, one foot going over the side and sending mist up around it.

Together they continued striking, pinning Jeraeli down. Though several more superficial wounds opened up on her skin, she simply continued to block. It seemed foolish until Tani realized that Celivia was beginning to slow, exhausting herself with repeated use of her whip. Some of her strikes no longer shifted in midair, her strength only able to pull the whip back to her.

They needed something else, and when Jeraeli ducked aside from another knife, Tani knew that she had her chance.

For one glorious moment, she felt all of the sein along her thread and within her knife. Tani had attempted it before, but now she moved confidently, drawing on that deep connection. It was not only her ties to her tribe or the rigid bonds of errants, but a deeper unity that drew on both. When her knife returned to her, it did not jerk as if pulled, instead twisting smoothly into the air.

Driving deep into Jeraeli's back.

She let out a cry and dropped to one knee... only to lunge off her other foot, crossing the distance between them in an instant. Tani had no time to draw her sickle knife, she was already being driven backward. Somehow she had raised one of her throwing knives in defense, but Jeraeli caught it with one hand and slammed her to the ground, the other lunging for her throat.

Celivia's knife struck her neck from behind. Jeraeli shuddered, and this time she failed to transform her pain into another attack. Though Celivia stabbed her in the back to be certain, Jeraeli sank to the ground with no more fight left in her.

Tani rose slowly, feeling the drops of blood welling from her neck. It had been a terribly close thing, a final burst of conflict far more intense than she had expected. Rubbing her neck, she felt as though she had to voice that tension somehow.

"I had thought... that you would have more time to talk."

"So did I." Celivia stared down at the body. "I didn't realize she was driving herself so hard."

"We all were. Do you think, if the two of you...?"

"Could we have talked through our differences?" Celivia didn't answer the question, only looked up at Tani. They stared at one another without words, though Tani desperately sought them. Had their battles gone slightly differently, it could have been one of them dying.

A snarl echoed across the mine.

Tani turned, readying her remaining knives, and saw Myuneras crouched on the side of the mine, not far away. There was no sign of Veron except her sword through his stomach, and for the first time his gaze fell on them. Though she felt a stab of sorrow for Veron, Tani had no time for fear, not when he was launching himself toward them with that monstrous speed...

In the middle of his leap, Veron burst from the poison with another sword, trailing mist behind her. It spun around her as she turned, strangely graceful, but there was nothing beautiful about the way the sword buried itself in the mansthein's neck.

Veron crashed down not far away, but Celivia quickly went to drag her up onto the highest island of rock. Tani watched nervously for Myuneras to attack again, expanding her senses into the mist. She suddenly smelled a flare of mint, but it burned out the next moment and his body finally lay still beneath the mist.

Though Veron bled from many wounds and she sat just above the poison, obviously exhausted, she had triumphed. Tani couldn't help but shake her head. "You've grown strong, Veron."

"And I should be happy about it." The older woman groaned and dropped the guard's sword beside her. She began coughing violently, blood and wisps of green smoke escaping her lips, but managed a few more words. "It's not enough anymore."

Tani might have inquired further, but her body was beginning to understand that they had actually won. She had come within a hair of death and triumphed. Slaten might be missing, but Celivia and Veron were beside her, still alive. The disrupted mists that floated around them were almost beautiful, fatal as they might be.

Then the sun shone brighter and the poison became emerald silk in the wind. Atop the mine, Melal raised his sword and called out his attack.

Bloodskin raiders charged down the side, howling as they struck out at any surviving guards. Though Tani moved to defend Celivia, she realized that she should have helped the remaining workers. In a flash she saw some of the retreating figures cut down and she could only hope that the others had fled far enough away to escape Melal's wrath.

He leapt down to the island beside them, his eyes bright. Not in fury, but in anticipation. "Where is it?"

"There." Though Tani considered lying to him, she found herself pointing toward the correct tunnel. As he was now, nothing could divert Melal from his path, and lying would only draw his wrath.

The Hero dove directly into the mist and Tani begged fate on Slaten's behalf, without even knowing what she truly wanted.

~ ~ ~

As the Catai dragged his sword across the stone to end his life, the steel screeched in Slaten's ears. He knew he could fight longer, but he also knew that no strategy could overcome the gap between them.

Yet he felt something tugging at his mind, as if there was something he missed. This time it whispered to him not to surrender, but to continue fighting for the sake of the Legend. That victory at this final hour could be glorious. He wanted to reject it, yet found himself listening.

What came to him was no brilliant insight, but a simple fact: he knew the sounds of battle well, and the sword sliding toward him should not be making that sound.

All at once Slaten reconsidered his every experience over the past several days. Again and again, the sounds of battle had seemed to ring within his very soul, and he'd been too much of a fool to understand. He had been hearing sein all along and refusing to listen. As soon as he embraced it, he no longer heard the scrape of a blade, but the pure ring of steel.

The Catai drew close, lifting his blade for a killing blow, but he was too late. Slaten embraced his own sein and the sound of steel filled him.

Sensing something was wrong, the Catai struck early, but Slaten had already begun to move. He dodged aside from the swing and cut his opponent's thigh before retreating out of range.

Seeing the Catai still coming toward him, a grim monolith in the torchlight, Slaten felt a moment of doubt. A little more sein would not win him a victory, after all, and he had no time to train himself in the use of a new technique. Yet even as he doubted, he felt that sein trickling out into his body.

It soaked into him, feeding his strengthened muscles. Immediately he felt lighter as his spirit was no longer torn between wolves. What sein he had left flowed weakly, but his body remained strong and he could use it all freely. Each step he took felt right, as if he finally wore a pair of shoes that truly fit.

When the Catai next struck, Slaten's response came naturally. He deflected the swing, used its force to reverse his grip, and drove a hammer stroke directly into the Catai's chin.

This time the force reverberated through his skull and he collapsed. Slaten dropped against a wall, holding himself up with one arm and staring at the body, unable to believe that he had won. His opponent was not yet dead, but the blow had knocked him unconscious. That was enough.

Once he might have finished his opponent with a fatal strike, yet Slaten felt a deep sense of foreboding. He picked up the torch and walked deeper into the mine as quickly as he dared. Though none of his senses told him anything of the surface, now that he embraced his deeper understanding of sein, the whispering voice in his head left him nervous. Melal must be close.

Down the tunnel, Slaten discovered a large collection of barrels, the poison still hovering thickly around them. For now, he thought of them only as a signpost that promised that he was close. He rushed on, his body strengthened and yet uncertain.

At last he reached a wall, a smooth marble barrier at the end of the tunnel. The mansthein must have reached it and assumed they had found the Zeitai's treasure, but it was no seal. Slaten picked up a fallen pickaxe and swung at the marble.

Though for the first several strikes it was almost as if he had returned to Ith Ire, striking at the stone for days, much had changed. The wall soon crumbled before him, and he carried his torch into the space beyond.

He had hoped for another large chamber with carvings, but on the other side he found nothing grand. It was only a small room, a container created for only one purpose. At the center of it stood a dais, and atop it a box. Though his hands trembled eagerly, he forced himself to slow down.

The box was ornately carved, yet his eye struggled to identify any symbols in the swirling patterns. It would have been easy enough to open, but instead he found himself staring at the lid. There at last he found something recognizable: a ring of hands, each grasping the next. Though it meant nothing to him, he stared at it for a long time before he finally pushed off the lid.

A crystal disc lay in the center, pale in the darkness.

When he reached toward it, he felt promises stir within him. He knew with utter certainty that Melal's arrival would mean the death of many mansthein, and that those would only be the beginning. Yet they might be saved, Celivia and all the others. All he needed to do was reach out...

Slaten realized that he was not hearing any power speak into his mind, only his own thoughts. He had always known that the Legend proclaimed that all Deathspawn would die, and it would have been so easy to believe that it might bend. But the idea that he might whisper lies into his own mind sent him reeling away from those promises.

Without thought, Slaten drew his sword and raised it above the seal.

He had expected some great force to stand against him, some violence to counter his own. Instead all that struck him was the realization that he was a fool. The crude idiocy of thinking that he could destroy the disc by striking it with a weapon overwhelmed him. Imagining that he could destroy it was like a child boasting of throwing a ball over the moon.

With a deep breath, Slaten forced himself to bring his blade down against the seal. The edge struck with a dull sound, mockingly hollow. There was no reaction, the disc as unchanged as if he had never existed. He shuddered, his body cracking and breaking into shards as he sank to his knees, an irrelevant mote compared to the seal.

Slaten stared at his hands, surprised that they were not covered in cracks. All at once he felt immensely weary in a way that made all revelations of sein irrelevant.

Rising to his feet, Slaten stared at the seal, looming vast within the box. He was not certain how long he stared, but then he saw a light beside him.

"The seal." Melal touched his shoulder, but his eyes never once met Slaten's. He took slow steps toward the dais, dropping his torch, hands trembling as they stretched toward it.

Hadn't this been what they wanted? Slaten turned away before the blinding light arrived, telling himself that this would be for the best. No more would die over the seal and the mine's purpose would be removed. Perhaps the Maenhu could negotiate a new peace, the mansthein could turn aside from old ways, and the horror could move on.

Behind him, the tunnel lit brighter than the sun.

As he realized that the light only continued increasing, Slaten began to stumble forward, desperate to escape for reasons he could not explain. His mind was scorched white, though the light behind him was purer yet.

When he staggered into the open chamber, he saw that the Catai had sat up, holding his head. The Deathspawn stared at him, then something behind him, eyes growing wide. As Slaten passed, the Catai grabbed at his cloak. "Don't leave me here!"

Slaten pushed on until the cloak tore. Behind him, he heard the Catai cry out in awe and then go utterly silent. He could see the light at the edges of his vision now, coating every surface of the tunnels. Though he tried to run, the light clawed after him as he fled to the surface. Even if he outpaced it for a time, he could feel the earth itself growing brighter and brighter behind him.

In the final corridor he threw himself into a desperate sprint, wanting nothing more than to escape. His boot caught something and he slid to the ground. As he rose, he looked partially behind him and saw the corridor disappearing into the light. The furthest pair of torches he could see burst to life, burning with white fire.

Light marched down the corridor toward him, more pairs of torches blazing white, the brilliance so intense it completely erased the tunnel. As the light began to render his clothes gray, Slaten at last tore himself from it and ran, but he knew that nothing waited outside but the sun.

~ ~ ~

The Hero's attack had been brutal, butchering the last of the evacuating mansthein before Celivia could react. Yet Veron and Tani had stayed close to her, holding back the wild-eyed raiders. Celivia had feared for her band at first and was overjoyed when she saw them walking down the side of the mine. Laeri had loosely tied a rope around all of them and now carried them after her as prisoners.

No, not all of them. Celivia saw only Ghasfik, Fijn, Big Ragh, Huthur, and Puga. The rest of her band was dead.

Yet Laeri's feeble capturing of them seemed to keep the raiders at bay, at least for a time. They paced around the exterior of the mine, sniffing at the poison like animals, staring skyward as if hunting for more targets. None of them attacked, and when Laeri finally crossed the bridge to the central island, she breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"I... I can't believe that worked." Her eyes fearfully moved between the raiders. "Is Melal here? Why didn't he stop them from attacking?"

"What about the others?" Celivia startled the other woman when she approached, but she grabbed Laeri's shoulders. "Did they make it to safety?"

"I don't know. I told them to run to the errants, and uh, that one thought it would work." Laeri pointed to Ghasfik, but then her face fell. "But the last group that couldn't get out... those who fled immediately escaped, but those who lingered or tried to gather supplies... they're all dead."

Though Celivia intended to comfort Laeri, to her surprise Big Ragh stepped in, taking her hand gently. "You did everything you could, my Amios Laeri."

Laeri stared blankly at him and Celivia realized that the girl didn't speak a word of Futhik. The healer turned to Celivia in confusion. "He... keeps saying things. Did I do something wrong? Please tell him that I'm very sorry that I couldn't restore his eye."

"He's thanking you for the work you did." Celivia examined Big Ragh closer, only then noticing that one of his eyes was missing. There was an ugly scar under his brow, but the skin looked remarkably restored, as if it was an injury from a decade past.

"And I keep hearing him say 'Amios Laeri' - does he think that's my name?"

Amios meant something close to "beloved" and Celivia was not about to reveal that fact. After glaring at the members of her band just in case any of them understood Coran, she gripped Big Ragh's arm and pulled him away as she explained to Laeri. "He's just confused. Let me speak to him."

She led him to the other side of the island, ignoring all the eyes on her. Once they were a safe distance away, she hissed at him. "What are you doing?"

"You don't understand, Kaen." Big Ragh stared at her with a besotted grin on his face. "When that knife hit my eye, I thought I was dead. But then... her hands were so smooth and cool when she touched me, yet her power felt so warm. I woke up and saw her smiling face, nothing but goodness and purity..."

"Ragh." Celivia tightened her grip on his shoulder. "Are you telling me that you spent years talking about how disgusting humans are, then one heals you and suddenly you want to fuck her?"

"My Amios Laeri is nothing like the filthy humans! She's a... a spirit brought to life. Don't use such words about her! She could only make the sweetest of love..."

Despite herself, Celivia laughed. After so long carrying the suspicion of betrayal, then battling on the edge of a knife, she was exhausted. To have it all end in this utter absurdity was simply too much for her, and despite the gazes turning toward her, she laughed louder.

Then the sun came to earth and laughter died.

The light wrenched her gaze up and Celivia gasped as she saw that the sun overhead was surrounded by a halo:around the overwhelming white of the sun itself burned a perfect ring. It bled into the slightest hint of rainbows at the edges, but even those colors faded away as she gazed at the phenomenon, like a transcendent eye staring back at them.

All around the mine, human raiders stopped what they were doing and straightened, gazing upward. They stood as if the sun drew them, leaving them barely tethered to the ground. It was the sight of all those bloodied blades shimmering gloriously that finally broke Celivia from her trance.

"Celivia..." Tani stood beside her, eyes wide. "I don't know what this means, but I think... you need to go..."

"I agree, but look around us." Celivia didn't see any path by which they could escape, but she still gathered her band, pulling their attention from the sun. At last she had the five of them together, though most were utterly stunned by the sun overhead. It seemed to grow larger, threatening to encompass the sky.

Light shone from the northern tunnel and Celivia took an involuntary step back. Then she saw a dark figure, its silhouette almost overwhelmed by the outpouring of light. Slaten stumbled toward them through the shining mists, pushing his way up the side of the island until he collapsed near the top. Celivia and Tani went to him, asking what he had seen, but he only shook his head and withdrew his hand from his cloak.

In it, he held a voidlink. Wordlessly he offered it to her, and Celivia understood that this was her only chance. As her band moved closer, Tani grabbed her wrist and caught her gaze, eyes filled with concern.

"Can you take everyone away, Celivia? Where will it take you?"

"I have no idea." Celivia clenched her hand tighter around it. "But I can only try. And we need to go now."

"Go." Tani started to pull back, then suddenly leapt forward to embrace her. Celivia wrapped her arms around the human woman and squeezed her tight, longing to stay there, but she could feel the light burning at her back.

She wanted to embrace Slaten as well, but he remained on his knees, the light in his eyes burnt out.

As the light from the tunnel began to possess the mists, Celivia gathered her band at a safe distance and held the voidlink in both hands. It would test her limits to transport all of them, and she would be completely incapable of altering the destination. She snapped the silver spindle in half and the glorious light was replaced by the unknown.

~ ~ ~

The Hero strolled through the tunnels with a song on his lips and in his heart. As he did, he brought a joyous light to dark places, searing away the Deathspawn's blight. For too long, they had held this corner of the world in their clutches, but a new day had dawned.

Now that he was truly following his destiny, it had all been so easy, so simple. Only a little trouble along the way, then he had strolled into the mine and claimed the seal. There was no need for confusion or suffering, or even for battle. The Legend declared what would be, and it was.

Yes, finding the Sage had been the correct choice. The Hero smiled as he finally stepped into a new day.

It was a beautiful afternoon outside, the sun overhead glowing with the same light that burned within him. Those wisps of smoke that remained in the mine shone gloriously white in anticipation of what was to come. He saw his noble companions awaiting him, and his army of raiders beyond, falling to their knees as he approached. Yes, it was a glorious day.

Yet somewhere deep within him, the Hero understood that it would not always be so glorious. He was flush with power and clarity now that a second seal lay within him, but it would not last. Because the Legend had yet to truly blossom, the world's story needed mundane details. The Hero closed his eyes, seeking the meaning within him, and then he knew how best to use this light.

"What you have seen before this day has been nothing but a skirmish." As his companions turned hopeful eyes to him, the Hero smiled down upon them. "It is time to begin our war for the continent itself."

- End of Book 2 -

Epilogue

Sage Tuvano rarely slept atop the mountain, because he wasn't a damn fool. Having Aganomu carry him to the top was undignified, and walking up on his own hurt his knees something fierce. He had a perfectly functional bed in the village below, where his granddaughter could make him tea and he didn't have to worry about tripping and breaking his neck.

Yet that night, he woke to face the small chamber on Mount Tmil instead of his normal bedroom. As he gradually returned to the waking world, he remembered how troubled his dreams had been as of late. For all its inconveniences, he did feel more connected to the Legend atop the mountain.

As Tuvano sat up in his bed, he struggled to remember his dreams. Dreaming about the Legend was easy, far too easy. Nearly anyone with a connection to the Legend would soon find their nights filled with grandiose visions that could bring anyone to tears of awe.

The problem was, it was the same fucking dreams every night.

What distinguished true sages from those who merely repeated whatever everyone already knew was the ability to dream in detail. The flow of destiny actively refused specifics, always preferring to deliver profound and maddeningly vague truths. Only a few could see the fates of actual individuals instead of roles, and even gathering some of the best in his village, most couldn't manage much.

Tuvano found the flask beside his bed and took a long drink. Seeking the destinies of the Hero and his companions had required seasons of effort, which had been the real reason he'd sent the lad traipsing off after another seal. The effort had left him with only exhausted platitudes, unable to dream anything of substance, as he had not since his first vision to the very end of the Legend.

Until recently, when he woke with memories of doom receding on the edges of his mind. This night had been no different, yet Tuvano found himself rising. He didn't question his reactions, simply let himself follow the flow of destiny all around him.

It took him into the main room of the chamber, where he found his granddaughter rubbing her eyes. So much taller than she had been even a year ago, yet still so young. Suddenly overwhelmed with affection, Tuvano bent down and touched her hair. "Can't sleep, Julapa? Don't worry, you will grow used to the mountain air in time."

"I had a dream, grandfather. There were shadows approaching... but not simply a nightmare, they felt real. I saw them here, in this house. Grandfather... does this mean I...?"

As a grandfather, he should have told her that her dreams were only dreams. As a Sage, he should have been overjoyed that his granddaughter had begun to dream of the Legend at such a young age. Yet Tuvano found himself weeping. If he could take the gift from her...

No. If she saw the Legend, it was because she had a role to play. Tuvano smiled sadly at her. "You have slept your first night as a sage, Julapa. Alone, your vision might be only a nightmare, but I have also dreamt of shadows." Suddenly his dream returned to him, real as life, and fragments of figures standing in his house scattered across his vision.

"Grandfather?"

"I am sorry, Julapa. This night, it seems our dreams are not distant tales for distant lands. I have seen... that you must be kept safe. We must hurry." He extended a hand to her and she took it in complete trust. In truth, he had seen only the shadows, not any glimpse of her, and he could only imagine hope into that bleak vision.

As he guided Julapa back into his room, Tuvano moved aside his bed and opened the perfectly hidden door underneath. His granddaughter knew the hidden staircase, though she feared to walk it alone. He realized with an ache that her fear had been years ago. She was so much older now, bravely descending to the first steps, yet in his eyes she was still the child he'd lifted over his head.

"Where do I go, Grandfather?"

"The Legend will show you the way, girl. It may bring us together again, or it may not, but you must trust in it above all."

She nodded bravely and then continued down the stairs. Tuvano could not bear to see her glances back, so he quickly hid the door and returned his bed to its proper place. Then he walked to the central chamber and sat to wait.

For an hour he heard only the wind atop the mountain, but in time ragged breathing approached the doorway. When it opened, Aganomu staggered inside. Tuvano could see directly through a large hole in the man's chest, yet he did not bleed, as if the wound had been burned closed. The man was essentially dead and only his superlative mastery of the sein arts had allowed him to come this far.

"I couldn't do it, old man." Aganomu sagged down against the wall, showing less pain than bitterness. "She was... stronger than I thought..."

Aganomu of the Sotunn Mountains, the Sage's great protector, lay still and died.

Before the door could swing closed, a gray hand held it open.

The woman who entered burned with the vile evil of the Deathspawn, but she was like no Deathspawn the sages had ever dreamed. Many of their kind had gray skin, but the woman's was gray as slate, as if in denial of color. She wore unrelievedly gray robes and her hair was equally gray, leaving her an embodied color except for the red of her eyes.

As the door closed, he could see a sliver of other shadows beyond. One figure, or perhaps two. But then the crack disappeared and they were alone.

"They fought a war over me, you know." Tuvano shifted in his seat, no longer thinking of dreams, merely an uncomfortable old man. "You voidwalked here, didn't you? It doesn't seem fair to wait until all the armies leave and then simply step out the door to come for me."

"I owe a debt of gratitude to Zeitai Kreue, who allowed me to come so close." The Deathspawn had a high, unremarkable voice that could have been any woman's. She walked inside to stand opposite him and Tuvano only sighed at her theater.

"Kill me and get it over with."

"You misunderstand, Sage Tuvano. We hope that you will agree to work together with us. You are said to be the greatest of sages, so you must have seen the Legend truly. With your assistance, w-"

"Never!" Tuvano raised himself to his feet, finding some emotion within himself after all, like the last drops of water in a broken vessel. "You think that because I see the threads, the tapestry becomes less beautiful? The song duller because I understand the notes? Do you really think that seeing the Legend deeply could make me question its beauty?"

She regarded him silently, then lowered her eyes. "I had hoped."

"Your kind can only bring one thing, Deathspawn." He sagged back down into his chair. "Do not offend me with your false offers. The Dark Lord sent you to kill me, did he not? Too cowardly to finish the job himself."

"The Dark Lord keeps his own counsel and leaves most decisions to us." A flicker of annoyance appeared on the Deathspawn's face and Tuvano felt anger at seeing such a mundane emotion. "Attempting to speak with him is most frustrating. We had hoped that with your dreams, we-"

"You cannot have my dreams."

"I am sorry that it has come to this." She began walking toward him, reaching into the sleeve of her robe and revealing a thin needle. He could have struggled with her, but the shadows she cast were becoming familiar and he knew that it was pointless.

Tuvano expected death, but instead she only pricked the veins at his wrists and neck. As she drew back the needle, he saw that it glistened darkly with something that was not his blood, and he felt a chill begin to spread through his body as his own heart betrayed him.

"Before you die, you will tell me what you know."

"You want to hear the story again, do you?" Tuvano chuckled. "All know of the Legend, of the battle between-"

"If you are the greatest of sages, you must have seen the deepest. We will have those insights." The gray Deathspawn regarded him with a strange sort of pity. "This is your chance to make a difference instead of telling the story everyone already holds in their hearts. Telling us what you know would be an act of compassion."

"Do you think I fear death so much?"

"Perhaps not. But if you do not cooperate, I will tell Zeitai Kreue to kill everyone in your village. They will all die slowly and in pain."

Tuvano had been content to die in the Legend, but the thought of their deaths drew him back. Always the details, like a beautiful window becoming shards of glass. He thought of Julapa, climbing alone down the staircase, but pushed her from his mind. "Your kind are liars. You've already killed everyone in the village because you fear us. Finish me and be done with it."

"I suppose that the truth of it no longer matters to you. Now, tell me everything, from the beginning."

Though he told himself that he would not give her another word, as the gray seeped through his body, the words dribbled out of him, then began to flood. It had been so long since he had truly shared everything from his dreams, fearing to shake the other sages, yet the Deathspawn simply drew every word into that surfaceless gray.

He told her what fragments he had seen of the Hero's trials and triumph. He spoke of the great battles against the Zeitai, both those who existed and those yet to come. He revealed every fragmentary path leading to the final battle between light and darkness. As his head drooped and the weariness finally claimed him, he settled back with nearly all his words spent.

The Deathspawn left without a single word, and that was his final triumph. Because he had not told her about his furthest dream, the one he had never dared utter to another soul.

Light and dark would clash in a final battle, yes, and they were surrounded by so many swirls of gray. Beyond that glorious ending, he saw chaos and violence, but a child could have expected such results. What truly troubled him was the memory of something yet more terrible, dreamt only once, a void that was neither light nor dark, that threatened far worse than death.

As Sage Tuvano breathed his last, he wondered if it would have been better to speak of his final dream.

X X X

Thank you for reading my book! The third in the series, tentatively titled The Unnecessary Victory, is currently mostly written and is scheduled for a 2022 release after editing. If you've read the series this far, I'd be very grateful if you could support it with a review!

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Acknowledgments

I broke my record for number of early readers by a wide margin, so this could easily become unwieldy. If you hadn't yet given me permission to include your name/pseudonym or I omitted you, just let me know!

Thanks to my alpha readers: Larissa Cardoso, Yu Chiu, Clayton Collier-Cartaino, Cathy Davis, Kevin Jia, Adam Johnston, John Isaro, Jonathan L, Liam McBrien, Babatunde Mosha, Kathleen N, Sara Nguyen, V Wu, and the anonymous TLS Squad.

Thanks to my beta readers: John Bierce, N Daai, Steven Matinde, Bryan Ogren, Rinaldo Valgranaire, Prisca Zhou, athos00000, and the anonymous SC Squad.

Special thanks to Juan Songco and Kalin Popov for the concept art. The maps were drawn by Cornelia Yoder, Tiffany Munro, and Ryan Thomason. The cover was drawn by Miha Brumec.

Glossary

Alfis: A particular mansthein form, similar to a Towd Catai, but with fur across the body. Used almost exclusively by Feras mansthein.

ashweed: A relaxant herb commonly smoked across the Chorhan Expanse.

aurochs: A beast of burden domesticated by the Corans and used across the Chorhan Expanse.

behemoth: A beast of burden domesticated in the Maenhu.

Benighted Fool: The highest rank within a Fool order.

Bersk: A sub-species of mansthein, artificially created to serve as shock troops.

bicorn: A common domesticated animal across many parts of the world.

bloodsteel: A metal forced with advanced sein techniques, almost solely in the Maenhu.

capra: A vicious semi-domesticated animal. Raised for its meat across the world.

Catai: Both a rank and a specific form of the mansthein.

childbane: An herb used by mansthein women to prevent or purge pregnancy. Toxic in large quantities, with mixed effects on health.

cockatrice: A semi-domesticated animal raised for its meat across the world.

Deathspawn: An informal name for the mansthein military, or at times all mansthein.

dragon: A wild beast found in deserts across the world.

duusha: A general name for several species of wild animals that live on the Chorhan Expanse. Though they prefer to flee danger, they can be dangerous when cornered.

errant: An armored warrior of the Maenhu.

Farwalk: A rite of passage in many Rhen tribes, in which an adolescent leaves the tribe to return with insight and growth.

Feinan: One of the three major sub-species of mansthein. Also a title that generally implies disrespect.

fhoka: An herbal drink that can be taken in many forms, native to the Maenhu.

Fool: A title in the Maenhu referring to warriors who do not follow an errant order.

Futhik: The language family of the mansthein.

game of beasts: A simple hand-based game featuring hand positions representing manticore, behemoth, and dragon. Popular with children, but also among warriors as a test of speed.

Gant: A particular mansthein form, similar to a Towd Catai, but leaner and with bone spikes. Pioneered and still primarily used by the Laenan.

Greav: A particular mansthein form, notable for its rock-like body. Obtained only through artificial rebirth, not naturally.

Ignorant Fool: An advanced rank within a Fool order.

Ilankril: A rare mansthein form, possible only for Catai.

Kelfaa: A tribe of Rhen.

khanhorn: A large beast native to Teralanth.

knifegale: A predatory bird native to the Sotunn Mountains.

Laenan: One of the three major sub-species of mansthein. Also a title for the same.

Lanhao: A language spoken by several Rhen tribes, including the Lanoo.

Maenhu: The northernmost third of the continent of Breilin, a culturally unified region composed of the nations of Espal, Portant, and Wahleen.

manticore: A dangerous wild beast native to many deserts across the world.

mansthein: One of the world's dominant species.

methu: The body's channels for sein, not commonly understood.

Nelee: A large Rhen tribe, from which Tani hails.

Nelhae: A language spoken by several Rhen tribes, including the Nelee.

Neyet: A simple board game played in the Sotunn Mountains.

Oken: A people living in the west of the Chorhan Expanse, from which Slaten hails.

Okeni: The language of the Oken.

ombo: A small furry animal native to cold regions.

rebirth: A mansthein life process that radically alters their nature.

Reili: The language spoken across the Maenhu.

Rhen: An ethnic group that includes a large number of different tribes across the Chorhan Expanse.

steelwood: A rare and extremely hard form of wood. Used for currency in the Maenhu.

sein: The force of one's personality, experiences, and beliefs.

Seinan: One of the three major sub-species of mansthein. Also a title that generally implies respect.

seincoal: Despite the name, actually a form of technology producing a coal that will burn intensely until it exhausts itself. Generally too expensive for use as heat or light, but common in warfare.

seinshock: A condition that occurs when an individual encounters a traumatizing experience with their sein. It has many degrees and variations.

seinrage: A rare technique used only by certain mansthein.

Seirios: A particular mansthein form, traditional among the Seinan. Unlike many Catai-ranked forms, this one does not change the individual's appearance significantly.

Shiil: An old and subtle board game played across the world, notably on the continent of Fareshel or among the Oken.

soulsteel: A metal forced with advanced sein techniques, in particular from the Maenhu.

Tarantril: A rare mansthein form, possible only for Catai.

Telnaa: A tribe of Rhen.

Towd: A common mansthein form for Catai, notable for muscle and iron skin. The artificial enhancement of an old rebirth form.

voidlink: A physical object capable of replicating the arts of a voidwalker, taking a trained user across space in a moment.

voidwalker: Either anyone trained to travel across the void, or the division of the mansthein military dedicated to voidwalking.

Wooden Judge: A device used in the Maenhu to measure a warrior's understanding of sein and to grant rankings.

Yenith: An ancient board game played across the world, with many variants.

Yevee: A tribe of Rhen.

Zeitai: The title held by several elite warriors who stand above all mansthein.

Zihaa: An extinct tribe of Rhen.