Print

Please login or register.
1 Hour 1 Day 1 Week 1 Month Forever
Login with username, password and session length

Yes

No

I just wanted to vote

[Talvieno]

The caverns, ablaze with Ugeth's fires. Art by Talvieno

Chapter 29: The Caverns
The journal continues in its flowing elvish script on the next page, so you know Vanya couldn't have died. At the same time, you're somewhat skeptical as to whether or not someone could've survived such a drop, and curious as to how she managed it.

    Air flew past me with the sensation of wind, as I fell faster, faster... Fifty feet passes by quickly; I hardly had time to tightly close my eyes and take a breath.
    Water enveloped me as I arrowed into the depths, plunging deeper, deeper... I'd landed in the cavern lake. I began to swim upwards, arm over arm, kicking my feet, looking above at the fires flickering above the surface, drawing nearer, nearer as the pressure about me lessened...

    I finally broke the surface, choking and gasping for breath as the roaring of flames assaulted my ears. I didn't know how much water I'd swallowed, but it was enough to make me feel even sicker than before. As my head and stomach swam, I glanced about at the otherworldly scenery reflected towards me off the water from the distant shore: giant mushrooms lit ablaze, smoking pieces crumbling and falling to the ground. All around me floated bits of charred wood and fungi; flecks of ash filled the air, some still smoldering with a red glow as they floated past me over the gentle waves.
    With a determined effort, I propelled myself forwards through the polluted, lukewarm water, one arm at time, weakly kicking my feet as the shoreline approached. My mind was a haze... looking back, I don't really know what drove me on.
    The earth greeted me slowly, and I felt land beneath my aching arms. Stumbling forwards, I fell to my knees upon the welcome cavern floor, coughing and choking as I tried to clear my lungs. It took me a while to stop, and left me feeling even sicker. I ended up vomiting water, wiping my hair back clumsily over my head to keep it out of the way.
    In the end, I fell asleep right where I was... passed out from exhaustion at the edge of the cavern lake.

~~~

    My dreams were troubled and repetitive... Talvi and Urist stood before my sister and I; Talvi stabbed me with openworked daggers, while Urist riddled my moaning sister with bullets. Behind them, Joseph's face smiled mockingly, dancing just beyond shadows.

    I stood up suddenly, looking about and panting with terror. As I realized where I was, and what had transpired, my fright gave way to grief, and I began to cry for my sister's death.
    Crying is a strange thing... It's an expression of emotion, and yet it doesn't require anyone nearby for it to accomplish its purpose. At that moment, I couldn't think of anyone who could comfort me, anyway. The only ones I would've gone to were Urist and Talvi... and both of them had turned on me. The two people I considered my best friends had betrayed me... and I'd lost my sister. I'd almost lost my life... and right then, I wished I had. The anguish ripping through my heart was unequaled by any pain I'd ever felt. I'd never lost someone I'd cared about before... If Talvi had stabbed me to death, as I'd dreamed, it would've been a kindness.
    Images of my sister's face face flashed in front of my eyes in the dim firelight... That confused, bewildered look she'd had as she'd considered what I was saying...
    "Salaia..." I cried. I clenched my fist, whispering, "Oh, Salaia..." I'd been so close. I'd gotten her to question who she was – to question whether she really belonged to Ballpoint. In spirit, I'd gotten her back...
    In my mind, I saw the bullet hit her chest as she tried to speak; I saw two shots fired into her forehead even as she struggled to stand...
    "I HATE YOU!" I shrieked suddenly, screaming into the darkness. "I HATE YOU, URIST!" A fresh torrent of tears cascaded down my face, and I fell forwards weakly, clawing my fingers into the dense cave moss as I wept. To think I'd loved him. To think the one I loved could betray me like he had... it was too much to bear. "You should've known," I muttered brokenly. Then, louder, "You should've known it was her!" I clawed my fingertips deeper into the mossy floor, and my breath quickened with rage. "YOU SHOULD'VE KNOWN!!"
    The gentle sound of lapping waves and crackling of fires answered me, and I could hear the faint echo of my own voice: "You should've known..." I collapsed weakly onto my side, holding my knees.
    "I loved you," I whispered. "I loved you, and you betrayed me. You betrayed me, and you'd said you loved me, too." I wiped a tear from my nose. "You lied."
    The accusation seemed to echo in my mind, and it somehow depressed me even further. I didn't want to hate Urist... I wanted to love him. He'd been the first one I'd really felt something for... even if it had all been for nothing.
    I felt broken.

    I lay there for quite a while, hugging my knees close to me and shivering. It wasn't until I heard the faint echo of Ugeth's roar that I felt compelled to move. "Onino-imio queca," I swore quietly, getting to my feet and wiping my tears away. I knew that if Ugeth returned, he would set me ablaze, just as he'd done to the mushrooms, and that thought seemed to fuel my efforts. Putting one foot after the other, I walked between the towercap and fungiwood mushrooms that loomed far above, seeking shelter in the cavern wall. The smoke stung my eyes and specks of ash clung to my damp clothes, but I was thankful for the flames. Without them, I would've been blind. The cavern seemed to glow red and yellow, the lights flickering wildly about as it drew air towards it through the caverns.
    After a search, I finally found what I was looking for: a small, natural tunnel in the cavern wall. Although I had to stoop to enter it, it wasn’t long before I’d tucked myself away just inside.

    My sister's face seemed to haunt me as I tried to fall asleep. After a while, I took my hand in my own, imagining it was hers... Somehow, it was a comfort to my tired mind, and at long last, I floated away into a world of troubled dreams.

~~~

    I awoke sometime later, and found the massive cavern to be eerily silent and still. The fires outside had mostly died down. After wandering about for a little while, I managed to find some wild plump helmets. The little purple-tinted mushrooms weren't nearly as large or appetizing as the cultivated ones from Spearbreakers' farm, but they were still edible. The lake water, though dirty, tasted fresh to my parched lips. After gathering up a good deal of the wild mushrooms, I sat down to eat what amounted to a very meager meal.
    As I chewed, I looked through what possessions I had. Jack Magnus's woolen cap, though damp, hadn't fallen from my head. I still had my vampiric daggers, too, reminding me of so many people I'd come to care about. Then there was the little gorlak doll, tucked away in a pouch at my waist. I took it out and looked at it for a moment, and the thought appeared: had the little pigtailed girl had a sister?
    Shaking my head, I placed it aside and picked up a few more plump helmets from my little pile, but they tasted bitter on my tongue. I'd never wondered before whether the girl I'd murdered had a sister or not. Now, after losing a sister of my own... I could imagine the anguish she would've been in to learn her sister was dead. No, not even dead, just... missing. She wouldn't even have known whether her sister was still alive – it was a different kind of torture entirely.
    With a sigh, I picked up the little doll and placed it back in one of my pouches, and as I did, I realized I was still wearing Mr Frog's portal bracelet. A wave of hope and relief washed over me, and I got quickly to my feet, removing the bracelet and pushing the little button... but nothing happened. Whether the water had ruined it, or it had only had enough charge for one use, I didn't know. I put it dejectedly back on my wrist and continued my little breakfast.
    It didn't make sense, somehow. I'd lost my sister once before, or so I'd believed. I'd truly believed my sister was dead, when Wari told me, and yet that fact didn't make losing her now any easier. Maybe I'd held some subconscious hope that Wari was lying, and my sister was alive. Then again, maybe somehow I'd known in my heart that she wasn’t actually dead.
    The world felt so empty with her gone.
    I felt empty.
   
    After I'd finished eating, I began gathering supplies. I filled one of the two pouches at my belt with water and sealed it carefully. I filled the other pouch with plump helmets, and tucked the little gorlak doll carefully into my belt. Some things I never wanted to forget, no matter how painful they were. Other things, like my sister's death... forgetting it would have made my life so much easier.
    Unlike a dwarf, I couldn't see in the dark, so I hunted until I found a piece of fungiwood to serve as a torch, lighting it with the embers of a fallen towercap. Once I'd overcome a few final qualms, I turned, and with a heavy step, I began my journey towards the surface.

~~~

    My original destination was "up"... a little vague, but the fact that I didn't know the way back to Spearbreakers was a weight that never left my mind. I thought that if I could just reach the surface, I'd eventually be able to find the fortress... but as I progressed higher, farther through the caves, I realized I could never return. Talvi would simply try to kill me again, and she'd probably get away with it, too. The dwarven code of ethics was against killing other dwarves, but a dwarf that killed someone of another species could simply say that someone had coerced them into it. If the attacker said their victim was an enemy, other dwarves would consider it completely acceptable.
    The climb was slow, and inconsistent. At times I found myself perched atop steep ledges, high above open chasms... other times I found myself crossing flat expanses, empty but for webs and giant mushrooms. Early on, suicide was always on my mind... but I couldn't bring myself to starve, or drown, or even jump off a cliff. I hated that I couldn't control my survival instincts.
    Although I never had much trouble with food, water quickly became an issue. Whenever I passed even the smallest stream, I always stopped to refill both my pouches, and the dagger-carved towercap flask I'd made.
    "Day" and "night" mean nothing when you're underground. My schedule was simple: walk, eat, sleep, repeat. I never knew how much I slept, and I'll never know just how many days I spent underground... but it felt like an eternity. When you have things on your mind you'd rather ignore, that eternity becomes a hell all its own. Every other dream was a nightmare, and every waking moment, Urist and Salaia consumed my thoughts. I knew I'd never see either of them ever again, but for some reason, I wanted to see Urist one last time. Part of me wanted to punish him, to hurt him in the way he'd done to me... but another part of me was ashamed of those thoughts. And then, a little corner of my mind wanted to see him again, just to see him. I questioned whether liking him was betrayal to my sister, and I didn't have an answer... My heart was torn. My tears were frequent.
    Once, I thought I heard him calling for me through the caverns... Vanya... Vanya... but it was only a trick of the caves, or possibly my ears. To keep from attracting predators, I tried to stay completely silent... and the only sounds I ever heard were the shifting of air currents, the dripping of water, and my own quiet footsteps.

    Sometimes it was all too easy to believe that Spearbreakers had been just a dream, and that I'd always lived in the caverns... that I'd never lost my sister, and that there had never been a "Urist" or a "Mr Frog"... At times like that, I clutched the little gorlak doll tightly in my hand and knew it'd all been real. I vowed that someday, somehow, I'd make up for what I'd done to its onetime owner.
    One word spurred my feet onwards: Parasol. It was all I had left. It was the only place that I could really make a difference. It was the only place that I knew I'd be accepted.


    Finally, one night, I heard the sound of thunder echoing towards me. It took me a bit to realize what it was, but when I did, I dropped my dwindling supply of wood, rushing towards it in excitement through the tunnels. I soon found myself at the mouth of a cave, looking out by torchlight at blood-red rain falling on an already macabre landscape.
    I'd finally escaped the caverns.

    I'd never seen anything so beautiful.

~~~

    The next morning, I began walking in the sunlight, for the first time since I'd arrived at Spearbreakers, so many years before. The landscape was familiar... ten miles away to the east, past the rolling blood plains that stretched far to the north, the Amber Barb mountain range loomed. To the west were the Jungles of Binding, where Spearbreakers was, and when I climbed a hill, I could see the shimmering waters of the Amethyst Ocean a couple miles to the southwest.
    Not knowing where else to go, I started towards the Amber Barb, meaning to head as far from Spearbreakers as possible. I didn't want to go back... not even to see Mr Frog, or even Wari again, though I'd come to think of her as my best friend.
    Though the landscape was familiar, it didn't make the scenery any less grotesque, and it still sent shivers up my spine. Dried, sticky blood was coating absolutely everything. Dead trees poked their blackened, twigless trunks up from the ground like skeletal hands clutching for a victim, bloodstained vultures resting on their rotting branches. The sky was gray but for scattered, dark red clouds floating high above. After the morning blood-mist fog cleared, I could see for miles... and unfortunately, so could everyone else.

    I'd hardly been walking more than a few hours before I heard the first sound of life. "HALT, SOLDIER!" someone yelled, and I spun around to see a six-man squad jogging towards me, wearing gray uniforms... Ballpoint gray. They carried guns, and could easily outrun me if they tried; I knew right away that fleeing was pointless.
    They slowed as they reached me, keeping their guns trained on me as they suspiciously examined my Ballpoint hybrid suit. I kept my arms up in the air in the "see? No weapons" gesture Mr Frog had taught me. "I'm unarmed!" I told them, hearing my voice shake. My thoughts strayed to the daggers at my hips, and almost grimaced – I knew they'd notice. "I'm not going to hurt anyone."
    "Name, soldier? Rank?" the leader asked me, smoking a cigar out of the corner of his mouth. "That's some odd getup you've got there..." He had a buzz cut and a close-shaved goatee, even though he was a dwarf.
    For a second, I felt relieved they weren't attacking, and tried to think up some name to tell them, but that didn't last long. One of the soldiers whispered in the commander's ear, and his expression changed.
    "Vanya?" he asked, tilting his head in surprise. He made my name sound like an accusation, as if he'd called me a murderer. "She's Vanya Carena?" He glanced towards one of his soldiers. "Leroy, pull it up, let's see."
    My eyes danced nervously between them as I watched, holding my body stiff and motionless.
    Leroy tapped on a PEA for a moment and held it up to the commander, who shook his head with a smirk. "Can't believe we found her," he muttered, looking back at me. "Vanya Carena..." he chuckled. "Sorry, girl, but you're tagged 'K.O.S.' in the records. You know what that means?"
    I shook my head, though I had a very, very bad feeling about it.
    "It means 'Kill on Sight'", he said loudly, taking a puff from his cigar. He reloaded his weapon with a dramatic flourish and aimed it at my head, shaking his own with a smile. "Sorry, girl," he laughed.
    "No, wait!" I screamed, panicking. "Please, wait!!"

    My pleading was interrupted by a sight that’s remained etched in my mind ever since... All about us, the earth erupted violently, clods of reddish dirt flying in all directions. By the time it had fallen to the ground, three of the soldiers were already dead, blood gushing from the headless stumps of their necks as they crumpled aside, as lifelessly as ragdolls.
    "Aw, FUCK!!!" the commander shouted, emptying his assault rifle into the nearest creatures with a terrified, warlike yell.

    It was with horror that I realized: Orodogoth had been right. The creatures were just as he'd described: eyeless, alien monsters with a toothy, three-part mouth at the end of a headless neck-stalk. Their upper arms were like scythes; their lower arms like claws; their four long legs arching into large, menacing spikes.
    He'd called them "scythods".

    They swarmed around me, clicking with their mouths as their feet stabbed into the earth. One or two of them fell to the Ballpoint fusillade, but the attack had disoriented the soldiers, who were firing desperately in all directions.
    "Don't kill me!!" one shouted, throwing down his weapon and falling to his knees. Moments later a spiked arm stabbed into his chest, lifting him up into the air, yelling with pain until the beast crushed his skull against the ground.
    In the same instant, another sliced its scythe-arm across a soldier's throat. Her head rolled to the ground, and others sliced away the arms and legs of the falling corpse.
    At last, only the commander himself remained of his squad. The tallest of the creatures stomped forwards, clicking loudly with its teeth, and snatched the assault rifle from his grasp with a clawed hand. The dwarf looked up at the towering creature in terror, and tried to draw his sword, but the scythod leader grabbed him by the throat and lifted him, kicking and screaming, from the ground. It seemed to take a sort of sick, sadistic pleasure in dismembering one limb after the next, while the commander writhed, screaming in agony. As the scythod lifted its foreleg up to stab him through the chest, I turned away, covering my eyes. I couldn't watch.
    The commander's dying scream echoed in my ears.

    And finally, the only one left was me...

☆

[Talvieno]

A basic CG example of a scythod. Art by Talvieno

Chapter 30: Scythods
You glance up for a moment at the woman sitting across from you, but she only stares at you silently, waiting for you to begin the next entry. Dr. Thian Russ is nowhere to be seen. With a feeling of discomfort, you turn the page and continue reading.

    It can be difficult to switch from one culture to another, especially when they are worlds apart. What seems horrid to one person can seem perfectly acceptable to someone else. It's how they're raised. If you were raised to punch your elders violently in the face, and taught that it was a sign of respect, you wouldn't have an issue if you saw someone else doing it. Our behaviors and cultures aren't "pre-programmed"; they're learned and taught. Unfortunately, even knowing that doesn't lessen the shock nearly as much as you'd think.

~~~

    I turned around in time to see the commander's dismembered corpse falling to the ground, and I felt my stomach turn as I saw one of the “praying mantis” beasts slit his abdomen, his intestines gushing from the wound. But the tallest scythod, the leader, scraped its scythe-arms together with a loud scraping noise, clacking loudly with its teeth, and as one, the two dozen scythods fell silent and stood still. Alone, the tallest began to stalk towards me, its spike-legs thudding into the moist earth: thud-thud, thud-thud, like the beating of my heart. I backed away, but two scythod guards grabbed my arms from either side. The others cleared a way for their leader, who slowed in front of me.
    I always found it odd how they have no eyes... You don't know where to look, but I assumed its "head" was where mine would've been. Its teeth are strange... three jaws lined with teeth that come together in the middle to make a triangle. Eye contact means so much more to us than we ever seem to realize.
    The scythod began waving its neckstalk, quietly clicking its teeth as it seemed to examine me. A whimper of fear escaped me as its mouth lowered towards my neck.

    The noise seemed to surprise it, and it backed away a pace. For a moment I thought I'd scared it, but it lifted one of its leg-spikes and slid the side slowly along my throat... I thought it was going to kill me.
    Suddenly, it withdrew, clacking loudly. A human wearing an old Ballpoint uniform climbed from one of the craters at the far side of the group, assisted roughly by the scythods, which seemed to spit at him hatefully. He approached at a jog, stumbling whenever the creatures kicked it, and finally came to a halt beside the scythod leader.

    He had close-cut red-brown hair and an unkempt beard, as well as a weak jaw. Though he was shorter than the average human, he was still taller than me. I expected a human language from the man, but instead, he made a clicking, grunting noise, which the scythod responded to in kind, almost impatiently. Redbeard seemed to protest, but finally turned towards me and spoke... in broken elventongue.
    "Hello, master person tree," he said slowly, stuttering, "I... I be good to make meet you. Please do... Please be do not eating me later now." Hesitating, he grimaced; clearly he knew his vocabulary was lacking. If it hadn't been such a tense situation, it would've been amusing, but I took that last phrase as an insult.
    "I speak dwarven, if that's any easier for you..." I muttered crossly.
    "Oh, good," he sighed with relief, almost smiling. "Yes, I do." Beside him, the scythod started chattering roughly.
    "I don't eat people," I berated the man. "That's racist and -"
    But he interrupted me: "The Warmaster Kythraka'l Scylk demands you state your race and allegiance."
    "You clearly already know I'm an elf, so why don't you just tell him that?" I asked in annoyance. "And why aren't they killing me?"
    "I know, I'm sorry," he whispered, glancing fearfully at the scythod on his right. "He won't believe me if you don't say it first. They aren't killing you because -"
    The leader, Scylk, whacked him over the head with a closed claw-hand and started chattering, and the man, cringing, started to relay what I'd said in Scylk's own tongue.
    "...Allegiance? Are you Parasol?" he asked, almost pleading with his eyes.
    I felt no pity for him. "I belong to Spearbreakers," I said quietly.
    "Spearbreakers?" his eyes widened in surprise. "But that's a dwarven -" A stream of clicking chatter interrupted him, and the man began conversing with the scythod, who began waving his leg slowly in my direction... almost curiously. It seemed they smelled with their legs, which was odd, but... after all I'd seen and done, it really didn't seem as otherworldly as it might have.
    Finally, Scylk turned to me, clacking and hissing through his teeth. "His Warship asks if you were enslaved," the man translated.
    I glanced from the man to the creature curiously. "No... no, I... Of course not," I stuttered in surprise. "Everoc dwarves don't keep slaves, and Spearbreakers is acceptant of anyone, no matter the race." I caught my breath - it felt odd to hear myself speaking those last words.
    After some more chattering, some in my direction, the man spoke again. "His Warship says he is intrigued, and asks that you stay with us for a time... as a prisoner." He gave a sort of apologetic smile.
    "Do I have any choice?"
    He shook his head rapidly, whispering, "They'll kill you if you refuse."
    I looked at the claw holding me on my right, then my left, looking slowly up the arm to the scythod's sharp, bloodstained teeth, and looked back at the human. "I will stay," I said in quiet resignation. It was better than going back to Spearbreakers, I thought.
    Scylk clacked his scythe arms together, chattering loudly. A roar erupted from the creatures as everyone did the same, shouting in unison, and they all seemed to relax. The two guards released my arms and left. I watched quietly, standing shell-shocked at the edge of the milling group as they began to eat their fallen enemies... as well as their fallen comrades. I turned away as I saw them ripping at the commander's chest, fearing I was going to be sick.

    A hand lowered itself onto my shoulder. "I'm sorry if I insulted you," Redbeard apologized.
    I shrugged out from under his palm and looked at him accusingly. "Not all elves are like that," I said, irritated. "I've never eaten someone's flesh in my life. The only meat I eat is of animals."
    "Elves don't eat animals," he tried to point out, raising a finger.
    "Well, I do."
    He stood there quietly, motionless, looking me over with his eyes. I sat down on the ground, wishing he would go away, but he didn't. It felt... awkward. After a while, I spoke, largely to break the silence. "Aren't they going to take my weapons? Or could they not tell I was carrying daggers?"
    Redbeard paused for a second before he spoke. "The Warmaster mentioned your weapons had an odd smell... But they don't take weapons from captives."
    "And what if I tried to fight my way out or escape?"
    "They'd kill you," he said simply. "We got off on the wrong foot, and I'm sorry," he said, trying to sound friendly. "What's your name?"
    I wanted to tell him to leave, but there didn't seem to be much point to it. After all, there was no telling how long I'd be kept prisoner. There was no reason to hold a grudge. "I'm Vanya," I finally answered. "What's yours?"
    He hesitated for a moment, as if struggling to remember. "I'm, uh... I'm John Smith."
    "'John Smith'," I echoed thoughtfully. "That's an odd name."
    "As odd as 'Vanya'?" he joked, sitting down next to me. "As odd as giant praying mantis creatures, as odd as blood falling from the sky?"
    I couldn't help but smile. "You have a point."
    "That I do," he said with a nod. "Are you from Ballpoint too?"
    Shaking my head, I glanced over at the chattering creatures to my left. "No... This armor I'm wearing isn't Ballpoint-made," I explained.
    John raised an eyebrow, saying, "It looks like it's from Ballpoint..."
    "It's not." I picked up a bloodstained pebble and tossed it away. "Mr Frog made it for me."
    He choked. "Mr... Mr Frog? Are you serious?" Then he stopped, trying to collect himself. "The Mr Frog, the one who was responsible for Ballpoint pushing forwards the Miranda amendment?"
    "The what?" I got the part where Mr Frog was apparently famous at Ballpoint, but he'd lost me after that.
    "The Miranda amendment," John repeated. "It's where..." he stopped and ran his hand through his hair, apparently lost for a way to describe it. "Never mind. I heard they sent him to Spearbreakers, trying to kill him with his own creations."
    I glanced at him curiously. "What do you mean?"
    "He's the one that modified the Spawn and re-released them. He was one of the heads of the project, actually."
    I was stunned. I didn't know what to say, or how to react. His accusation seemed absurd, given what I knew of Mr Frog. "What?"
    "It's true," John said in a nonchalant manner, twiddling his fingers. "Didn't you know?"
    Shaking my head roughly, I exclaimed, "It can't be true! He's a good man! He would never do something so horrible."
    He tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. "Well... I guess you could say it's because he's a 'good man' that they kicked him out."
    "I don't believe you," I whispered, sinking my head into my hands. Little pieces in my mind were starting to fall into place: how Mr Frog knew so much about the spawn, how he loathed them, how he was helping Spearbreakers defeat them in any way he could. But I didn't want to believe it.
    John continued explaining. "He saw what Ballpoint was planning to do with the Spawn and he didn't like it, or so people say. He started to drink, started to make his own drugs and self-medicate... and then one day he straight-out told the head of the project that he didn't want to take part in it anymore. So... they sent him to Spearbreakers."
    That sounded a little closer to the Mr Frog I'd come to know, and I couldn't deny it. "Why would they send him to Spearbreakers?"
    "Well, they were going to kill him straight out, but the trial got hung up on moral issues... A number of people revolted, saying Mr Frog was right and that Ballpoint should terminate the project. So... the commander-in-chief passed the Miranda amendment to Ballpoint law. It says..." he stopped and ran his hands through his hair again, thinking. "It says anyone showing signs of dissent should be killed off as in discreet a manner as possible, without trial or warning, to keep from upsetting the rest of the contractors and causing a riot. The official story was that Mr Frog was doing research at Spearbreakers, and that's what he was told, too... but then somebody leaked the truth about Miranda, and everybody knew."
    "You were there?" I asked, refusing to meet his gaze.
    He gave a little crooked smile, and then frowned. "I was one of the people who revolted."
    At this, I raised my head from my hands and looked at him in surprise. "You?"
    "Is that so hard to believe?" he asked quietly, looking off into the distance with a sigh. I didn't respond, only wondering how someone so seemingly spineless could have taken a stand for what he believed.
    And we sat in silence, side by side, while the scythods finished their meal.

    Before an hour had passed, a scythod approached us, talking, and John translated: "Vanya, come on - they're on the march."
    With escorts on either side of us, we followed... but they let us walk free. They never laid a hand on us to bind us... even though one of them would occasionally kick John in the back, or snap at him loathingly.

~~~

    That night, we rested under a moonlit, lightly clouded sky. Some of the scythods carried crude water skins, and others carried packs of meat; they let us drink as they made camp. Afterwards, a shorter scythod came by and gave John and me each a slab of meat... I didn't want to touch it.

    "It's capybara meat," John tried to assure me, picking pieces off of his. "They don't give their prisoners the flesh of sentient creatures."
    "But it's raw," I protested pertinently. "I can't eat raw meat."
    He only grimaced, gingerly putting a chunk into his mouth.
    A scythod stomped up from behind me, hissing at us. John answered, seeming very disquieted, and the two held a brief conversation. Finally, I turned around and broke in. "This meat is raw," I said as clearly as I could. "I can't eat it." I glanced back at John, who was shaking his head violently and waving his hands for me to stop, and mouthing "don't go there".
    The scythod turned its mouth towards me in surprise, clicking a couple times, and then chattered at John, who clacked and hissed back. Without another word, the scythod stomped away.
    "Why'd you have to do that?!" John whispered in frantic agitation. "They almost killed me when I made that request."
    "I won't eat raw meat," I said quietly, trying to steel myself against my fears, which I was surprised to find weren't there.
    "Just eat it! They'll kill you if you don't," John warned.
    I shook my head, saying, "I don't care."
    And I meant it.

    Two scythods stomped up behind me, and I turned, watching them approach as their spindly forms threw dark shadows on the ground. "It's Warmaster Scylk," John moaned. I shushed him.
    Scylk began chattering sharply, but his tone softened as John spoke. Finally, lifting a leg in my direction, he seemed to sniff me, and then he turned and spoke to his officer, who left. Moments later, the officer returned, clumsily grasping a piece of flint and steel in the tips of its scythes, which opened like some kind of strange, webbed hands. In its claws, it grasped bundles of wood, and in a few moments, John and I had a small fire between us. John could only look on with a comical expression of dumbfounded surprise.
    I laughed at him, holding my dinner close to the fire on a stick, trying to get it to cook.
    Scylk seemed to order his officer to leave, and then, chattering to John, sat down beside us - an odd sight for such a long, stiff-legged creature. I wasn't expecting that... nor was I expecting him to speak to me.
    "Your ways intrigue me, Alaf," John translated, whispering "he means 'elf'" as he did. "What is your name?"
    "Vanya," I replied carefully, wondering why John hadn't told him himself.
    "Spala," Scylk hissed, speaking slowly.
    I shook my head, and then wondered if he could even see the gesture. "No, Vanya."
    "Fana," Scylk said, trying to match my sounds, but then he clicked his claws and tapped me on the shoulder. "Spala."
    I turned towards John for assistance. "What does 'Spala' mean?"
    "It means 'Storm'," he explained quietly. "His Warship is giving you a name that he can pronounce. A scythod's speech is very limited."
    I nodded, thinking. "Storm" wasn't that bad of a name, really. Then, curiously, I asked, "John, what does he call you?"
    He only grimaced and shook his head.
    Scylk began clicking again, and John continued to translate. "Spala, why are you here, if you do not share the blood of Ballpoint, or of Parasol?"
    "I'm fleeing my home."
    This brought an agitated stream of chatter from the warmaster. "Spala, one should never flee their home. One should embrace it for what it is, no matter how cruel."
    "I almost got killed," I tried to explain, though I doubted he could understand. "One of the previous overseers tried to kill me."
    Scylk spoke again: "I will tell you a story." Then, sitting by the firelight, through John's hesitant translating and Scylk's incessant chattering, the old scythod told me the story of his people.

    "For many years, my people lived on the planet of Piscyth - a rocky, violent world with numerous volcanoes that spewed boulders into the air, trying to crush us with their weight. There were beasts larger than we were, and constant warring separated my people. Though the world was cruel... we found it beautiful. We had an entire world all to ourselves, and could do as we pleased, though we often went hungry for want of meat. But we were free... and we did not value that freedom as much as we should have.
    "Humans and dwarves came through the air-gates, which you call 'portal'." He pronounced the last word correctly, which surprised me. "The humans and dwarves called themselves the 'Klascoryf' in our tongue, which is to say 'ball-point'. They attempted peaceful talking with my people, but we would not listen, trying to kill them for their meat. There was a war... and in the end, they prevailed, capturing many scythods. Klascoryf said they would pay us in 'money' - little pieces of metal. We had no use for it, so they said they would give us ways to show our worth in battle, as they thought us violent. But that is not why we always fought. We fought for food. There is already much food at Klascoryf. They offered us many things, but none was what we wanted. We wanted to be free; we wanted to go home. Death is honorable among my people, and being eaten more so... but dying alone, with your corpse tossed into the garbage to rot... there is no death more cruel. They learned we saw things this way, and used it. And so, we served Lonne's people for many years."
    I leaned towards John, whispering, "Who is Lonne?"
    He grimaced. "It's the name they gave me. It means 'incest'... they can't pronounce the 'j'." He glanced away in embarrassment.
    Though shocked, I had to stifle a laugh, and failed. Scylk ignored it and went on, pointing upwards with a claw.

    "Spala, look above you at the stars." He waited, and when I had, he continued, looking upwards with his mouth. "I can feel the wind..." he said. "I can feel the pressure of the sky on my body. I can tell you it will not rain tonight, though the air is moist. And yet, I cannot see the stars, for I have no eyes." He paused for a moment, waving his arm about slowly, deliberately. "This world has not the musical, sweet-smelling volcanoes, or the pleasant dust storms of Piscyth. No, it has vistas and oceans, trees and rainbows. The beautiful parts of this world are heard with eyes... and my people have none." Scylk paused, as if hesitant, and looked back at me. "We've missed our home, Spala."

    I actually felt a sort of sympathy for him. He was alien to me, but to his people... my entire world was alien. In a quiet tone, I asked, "Did you ever try to go back?"
    He clacked his scythe-arms together in response. "Yes, we did, and that is why we are here. Several years ago, Klascoryf made us use their air-gates onto this world. They told us to kill Parasol." He had trouble with the word, but pronounced it in Dwarven. "We refused, and left, moving to the mountains. We built a place to live... but we cannot call it 'home'.
    "If we ever returned to Piscyth, the other scythods would try to kill us as they always had, and they might even succeed. ...but that will never stop us from trying."
    He sat there quietly for a moment, and the night was silent but for the crackling of our fire, the sizzling of my meat, and the far-off sound of scythods. I thought over what he said, but nothing seemed suitable as a response.
    With a grunt, Scylk shifted his weight, reaching a claw into the fire. Pulling out my meat, he skewered it with a stick and handed it to me. "Eat your food, young one." Saying this, the old warmaster stood and stomped off into the distance.
    I sat there for a time, chewing slowly and looking up at the starry sky... looking up at the moon, covered by wispy, iridescent clouds... and wondering what it would be like to live your whole life without ever seeing the beauty that was there.

☆

[Talvieno]

Chapter 31: Repressed Rage
This is a cardboard-bound journal. All craftsmanship is of standard quality. You wonder where Vanya was as she was writing it, and how she had enough time on her hands to recount her journeys in such great detail. Nothing she wrote answers your many questions, nor is any of it marked with dates; only that five-pointed star.

    Scylk was right: I needed to return to Spearbreakers, even if Talvi was going to try to kill me again. I still need to go back, really... and someday, I will. I hope it won't be long until I can... everything I knew and loved was there, not here. It was a cruel place, and there were people there I didn't like, and many that didn't like me... but the good always seemed to outweigh the bad. Then again... perhaps I just see it as better simply because I'm not there anymore. I've had plenty of time to think about that, and many other things...

    Over the next few months, I began to notice more and more about my captors. They had an ashen-gray color to their skin, or "chitin", and I could start to tell them apart when I looked carefully. Some had slightly mottled appearances; others had subtle stripes running down their neckstalks or legspikes. Warmaster Scylk was a darker shade of gray, and he had a deep, dark scar on the back of his right armscythe, almost like a burn that had never gone away.
    The schedule was even simpler than the one I'd experienced in the employment of Mr Frog: wake up, eat, walk, eat again, and sleep. If the scythods smelled humans or dwarves on the wind, we burrowed under the ground and waited. When they heard soldiers walking overhead, they would burst out from under the enemy's feet and kill whomever they could find, just as quickly and efficiently as they'd done with the Ballpoint soldiers who had almost killed me. The scythods loathed their enemies, relishing the thought of destroying them, and they always treated the commanders cruelly, to the point it seemed they extracted a sort of deviant pleasure from torturing them. It didn't matter if it was Ballpoint, Parasol, or even a passing caravan. They sought to destroy any human or dwarf they could find, with an almost religious passion.
    I spent a lot of time with Scylk as we traveled, talking to him through John, during the long marches. For some reason, he seemed softer towards me than anyone else. I received an almost preferential treatment from the others because of it.
    Not having much else to do besides walk, I slowly began learning their language... it's not that hard, really; it's simpler than dwarven, but it conveys its meaning very well. Sadly, I couldn't manage to master speaking it. My clicks all sound the same when I try. John helped me sometimes after we'd made camp, trying to teach me. I didn't mind, really. He had a higher-pitched voice that was pleasant to listen to, and I was grateful for the help.

~~~

    It was dark that night... The clouds above us hid the moon and stars, and the only light we had was our little campfire. To my left I could hear the chattering of scythods as they told each other stories, but outside the ring of firelight, everything was as if enveloped in a black mist.
    John sat down on the other side of our little campfire, resting his back against a dead tree that seemed to shiver with the cold as it felt his touch. "No, it's 'kylk'," he told me, laughing. "Kylk. Say it again."
    I frowned, furrowing my brow in frustration. "That's what I've been saying! Kylk! Kylk! What am I doing wrong?" I had every reason to be frustrated: I'd been trying for fifteen minutes.
    He leaned forwards, shaking his hands in emphasis. "Cylk! You're saying 'cylk' – 'club' – not 'kylk'! 'Kylk' means 'grip'. It's very different."
    "I can hear the difference, but it sounds the same when I say it," I protested, rubbing my hands together and holding them closer to the fire to warm my fingers.
    "That's because you're not putting your teeth into it, and your 'kh' sound isn't hard enough," he explained. He always made it sound easier than it was. "Try it again."
    I shook my head in resignation. "Maybe some other time. How did you get to be so good, anyway? Did Ballpoint put the knowledge into your head or something?" I smiled, waiting for the inevitable reaction.
    It brought a grimace from him, as mentioning Ballpoint always did, and he shook his head firmly. "No, I learned it on my own before Ballpoint ever found me."
    ""You've never mentioned your time before Ballpoint before," I said, scooting closer to the fire.
    John seemed to deflate, his mood ebbing away. "Well... um..." he hesitated, staring off into the darkness. "There's really not that much to tell."
    "I'm sure there is," I prompted him. Then I stopped, watching his face quietly, and finally, on an uncomfortable note: "You seem like you feel guilty about it..."
    John grimaced again and gave a single nod. "It's not something I like to remember..." With a clear sigh, he slumped against the tree, staring into the fire, and began his story.

    "Ten or so years ago, I lived in a large human settlement bordering an elven forest far to the northwest of here. We farmed throughout the year and offered the produce as tribute to the elves. In exchange, they let us live, and... only ate a couple of us. It was hard, but it was life. We didn't know anything different."
    I felt ashamed of my heritage, and opened my mouth to speak, but John had expected it: he was already dismissing it with a wave of his hand. "Don't apologize," he said. "I know you're ashamed of being an elf, but it's not your fault. I don't hold it against you. Not everyone of a race are the same, after all..."
    I nodded silently in agreement at this last, and waited for him to continue.
    Finally, he did. "One night, I was I that was wandering outside the town border. I'd lost a friend – Niwira – to one of the elves' war tigers, and I wanted revenge – but instead of revenge, I found Chiktylk.
    "A scythod name," I noted.
    John nodded, looking up at the stars thoughtfully. "Chiktylk was the first I'd ever seen, or even heard of. He'd fallen from a cliff and broken his leg, but I could tell from the start that he was intelligent. He was weak from starvation – I brought him food, set his leg, let him heal, and as the months passed, I gradually learned his language... He grew to respect me, and in return for saving him, he helped me hunt down and kill the tiger that had killed Niwira. Revenge was sweet, but that feeling didn't last long."
    "You felt guilty about it?" I guessed.
    Chuckling dryly, John shook his head. "Not really. The war tiger happened to be the favorite pet of one of the elves' druids. The elves retaliated, sending soldiers our direction down the forest road. The townsfolk saw them from afar and panicked. They cursed me when they found out what I'd done, but when I showed them Chiktylk... how sharp his scythes were, how agile and fast he was, how tough his chitin... they rallied. Using me a translator, Chiktylk armed my friends with whatever we could find – hoes, shovels, knives, pitchforks, scythes – and we readied for battle. Chiktylk had lost his tribe on Piscyth to Ballpoint, and he wasn't willing to let the same thing happen to us. 'It is better to die than to be a slave to another's will,' he told us, and it became our war cry: 'Death before slavery'."
    Pausing, John grimaced, his voice taking on emotion. "The elves didn't spare a thing... They sent their entire army out for us. Arrows gushed from the sky, blotting out the stars. Our families hid in the houses, and arrows fell through the thatched roofs. But even as our recruits cowered in fear, Chiktylk stood firm, as if relishing the feel of combat. The elves' wooden arrows couldn't pierce his chitin, and he rushed forwards, massacring them as if they were made of straw. They fled, screaming in terror... Though we'd lost many people, we'd won."
    "The town hailed Chiktylk as a hero, but he announced, through me, that the victory had spurred his resolve, and he wanted to return to his own kind. Our makeshift army volunteered unanimously to accompany him across the blood plains, to defend him from the spawn... but we never even made it that far."
    John stopped, staring through the fire into the distance. After several minutes, he sighed, and went on. "It was less than two weeks in... Ballpoint attacked us in the night. Some of us escaped, but Chiktylk didn't make it – they executed him at gunpoint before he could even approach. Ballpoint told us that we'd seen more than we should have, and that if we wanted to live, we'd join them... But not one person quavered, chanting 'death before slavery'. One by one, Ballpoint went down the line, executing people I'd known my entire life..." His voice broke, and he turned away. "And then they came to me."
    I put my hand on his arm and spoke softly, trying to comfort him. "You didn't want to die, John..."
    He shook his head violently, brushing his eyes roughly with the back of his arm. "No," he managed, choking with emotion as he spoke through clenched teeth. "I betrayed Chiktylk, I betrayed my town, and even betrayed my own family. I served with Ballpoint for seven years as a contractor, moving with their armies and wiping out the enemies of the highest bidder. It's what they do. It doesn't matter if it's women and children, it doesn't matter if it's a monastery or nursing home – if the people paying Ballpoint's checks ask for it, Ballpoint does it. They don't have any allegiances other than money and themselves."
    "I'm sorry, John," I whispered, shaking my head listlessly. "It's okay; it wasn't your fault."
    His own name seemed to anger him, and he got abruptly to his feet, scowling. "No, it's not okay," he said, his volume steadily increasing. "My recon squad got attacked by scythods on my first mission here, and I begged them not to harm me, that I'd serve them if they let me live. They saw my usefulness as a translator and kept me alive, even as they killed everyone else in my squad – even though they hate me." He jerked his head towards me, clenching his fists, his eyes smoldering in the firelight.
   I scooted back in fear and got to my feet, frightened at this sudden, unexpected change in him. "John, calm down," I whispered.
   But he didn't listen. "The scythods despise us, Vanya," he shouted emphatically. "They loathe dwarves and humans, and they have every right to! Ballpoint did the same thing to them that they did to me, but the scythods stood up for themselves! They didn't run, or cower in fear! They didn't avoid death - they embraced it! The only reason they ever worked for Ballpoint at all is because they couldn't stand the thought of dying by firing squad. And that's exactly what I let happen to Chiktylk."
    "John, sit down, please!" I begged. "Stop being so –” Suddenly, I halted, staring in astonishment at a tall, shadowy form that stalked into the firelight behind my friend. John looked at me curiously, and then down at his shoulder as a huge armscythe came to rest upon it. I could dimly make out a long, dark scar, and I knew at once who it was.

    Warmaster Scylk stepped out into the firelight, hissing. "You are loud, Lonne," he said slowly, clicking his claws. "Your words carry far, and all the camp has heard you." Scylk could understand dwarven, as could many others of my captors.
    John seemed to shrink, his brief rage dissipating. He glanced away awkwardly, replying in a quiet tone, "I'm sorry, your warship. I was retelling the past, and it upset me."
    Scylk clicked his claws again in disapproval. "Do not hate those who die cruel deaths. The past is dead, and it dies the cruelest death of all." He paused for a moment to let it sink in, and then continued, "Now, come. It is cold, and we must move when the sun sends its warm rays upon us. Get some sleep, young ones." Turning, he stomped away, his legspikes thudding into the damp earth.
    "He's right, John," I said softly, after the warmaster had left.
    With a frown, John sat, idly tossing a few pebbles into the fire. "I know," he said finally with a sigh. "Let's just go to bed."
    I nodded in response. "Goodnight, John."
    "Goodnight, Vanya."

    Lying down on the cold ground, I closed my eyes, thinking thoughts of home until I fell asleep.
    My dreams were troubled that night...
   
~~~

    He'd found me.
    I stood before him amidst darkened, swirling mists, glaring at him heatedly with long-repressed rage. "That was my sister, Urist!" I felt my fists clench themselves, my nails digging into my palms. The stern, yet apologetic look on his face made me burn inside, and I found his chiseled lantern jaw as attractive as a dead moth. "Didn't she look like me to you? Didn't you see the resemblance?!"
    "Vanya, I -"
    "Don't say my name!" I shouted. My heart twisted as he said it, an agonizing reminder of how much I'd used to love hearing my name escape his lips. My heart was torn between loving and loathing... and that only made me hate him even more.
    "Please," he said, stepping forwards and reaching for my hand. I swatted it away and stepped back, wishing I could burn through him with my eyes. He looked up at my face; I watched his pained expression coldly with a hardened heart. "Please, think back to the good times we had together," he begged. "You loved me as I love you. You misunderstand what happened. Look at me. Why would I betray you?"
    They floated in front of my eyes again: Hans' room, the little peck I'd given him; the caverns, him throwing me forwards as we escaped the collapsing ceiling, looking up at his eyes in the glowing light of his spearhead; the gorlak pond, the gems sparkling in the moonlight... but I brushed them away indignantly. "Answer my question," I told him.
    "I was under attack at the time. She was going to kill you. That's all I saw."
    I slowly shook my head, staring through narrowed eyes. "And she wasn't shooting me. Did you notice? Did you even look??"
    "I did not have enough time."
    "Oh, you killed her because you 'didn't have time'??"
    "I shot her because of that reason. If I had not killed her, you would have stayed by her side. You are too sensitive for battle."
    "There's no such thing!" I yelled, shaking with fury. "If anything, you're too insensitive! She didn't have to die! Halion didn't have to die! You've murdered thousands, Urist! You're a killer! That's all you are! That's all you do! That's all you're capable of!"
    His calm was slowly disappearing, just as I'd known it would. "I only meant well!"
    "Well, of course you did!"
    "It was for the best!"
    "That's a lie!!"
    "It saved your life!!"
    "I would rather have died!"
    It struck him as a blow, and he stepped back a pace, shaking his head in disbelief. "You don't mean that," he said quietly.
    I thought I saw the glimmer of a tear in his eye, and I drank it in as nectar, my eyebrows furrowing with contempt. "You could never understand, Urist. You'll never understand. You don't care; you don't care at all. You only wanted me for yourself; you never cared about how I felt. When did you ever tell me I was beautiful? When did we ever sit and talk, even just for a few minutes?" I grew quieter as I fought back tears. "When did you ever tell me how special I was to you?" I brushed my eyes roughly, hating that he still meant enough to make me cry.
    "We never had the time, Spala. I'm sorry."
    I looked up at Urist suddenly, confused. "What?"
    "Spala, I..." He looked down at his hands with a curious, alarmed expression as they began to disappear, dissolving at the fingertips, spreading upwards past his wrists.
     I stepped back from the dissipating apparition in terror. "Urist, what's happening to you/?"
    He looked at me one last time, longingly, regretfully - a painful image that would linger in my mind for days to follow.
    And he was gone.

    "Spala..."

    "Spala."
    I found myself in a blackened, breathless void, groping desperately for a handhold and finding nothing but a solid spike of bone.
    It lifted itself; I felt the sharpened tip, heard it slice into the damp earth a few feet away.
    "Spala."
    The dream lifted, though the night remained. "Warmaster?" I ventured quietly, my voice hardly a whisper.
    "You were talking while asleep, young one."
    His words brought to mind the entire dream. My heart felt heavy in my chest. "It was just a bad dream," I muttered.
    "Does something trouble you?" He spoke so softly I could hardly hear him, but I felt a gentle claw rest itself on my shoulder.
    "No..." I said, then paused. "No... I'll just go back to sleep. I'm sorry for waking you."
    The claw patted my shoulder reassuringly. "You did not awaken me. Would you like me to relight the fire?"
    "Yes, and thank you," I replied softly.
    It was but minutes before the little campfire was burning again, and I stared into it, my eyes burning with tears. My heart ached like nothing I'd ever known.

    I liked the nightmares about the forges better.

☆

[Talvieno]

Chapter 32: Old Stories
Vanya's fourth journal continues onwards into its sixth entry, and you continue dictating as you translate from her beautiful elven script. It seems that she wrote all of this at once - perhaps even on the same day. But you can only speculate as to why she would break it up into multiple entries, as she's as yet given no clues.

    The next morning we arose with the sun, eating a quick breakfast and continuing the journey. John seemed more distant than usual... almost ashamed. I didn't want to tell him, but I understood how he felt: I'd done horrible things in my past, too. I still considered myself to blame for it.
    The day itself seemed melancholy, and that afternoon, blood began to rain from the sky as we walked – the first rain I'd seen since that night at the cave. I choked at the horrible smell as the thick, red liquid soaked my armor, and tucked Jack Magnus's woolen cap away in a pouch at my waist to keep it clean. Around me, the marching scythods raised their mouths to the sky, drinking the liquid almost eagerly as it trickled down their narrow, ashen bodies. I didn't find it nearly as refreshing. Before long, it was dripping down my hair and into my eyes. I hoped it would stop quickly, and that I would have a chance to bathe. Sadly, I didn’t have any choice but to keep walking; if I fell too far behind, my captors would sense it, and they'd come back to get me. They were always watching.

    A scythod spoke suddenly from behind my shoulder, clacking and hissing through its teeth. "You do not like the rain, Spala," it noted carefully.
    Its voice startled me, and I spun around, choking on my breath. The scythod was tall, and bore a familiar scar on its armscythe. "Warmaster Scylk, I... I didn't know you were there," I stammered in dwarven, trying to recover from my surprise. "Your warship," I added. It was the first time, besides the night before, that John wasn't there to translate.
    Scylk laughed: he rubbed the serrated edges of his scythes together to produce a musical chirping noise. "There is no need to add such titles," he told me. "Lonne does it out of fear and regret."
    "Sorry, Warmaster..." I said quietly. "And no, I do not like the rain."
    "I can understand," he replied, stomping forwards until he walked beside me. He lifted his mouth for a moment, drinking in the falling liquid. I watched him, shielding my eyes from the weather with my hand. Finally, he lowered his neckstalk and spoke again. "To a scythod, this rain is like your 'can'dy'. However... if your can'dy fell from the sky, we would choke on it in disgust, for we cannot eat it, much like how you cannot drink this blood."
    I nodded thoughtfully, and then clapped once to show my agreement. "Warmaster, why do we always march?" I asked. "Where are we going? No one will tell me."
    "We seek Klascoryf soldiers," Scylk said. "We patrol our borders. Most of these young scythods that walk with you are only eight years of age. They are sons of this world; sons of 'Avarok'." He clicked his claws. "No, I say it wrong."
    "Everoc," I guessed.
    Scylk clacked his armscythes together in response. "Yes."
    For a moment I hesitated, then made up my mind to speak. "Warmaster... You could defend your borders better if your people wore armor, and wielded weapons in their claws," I suggested.
    The warmaster was silent for several minutes, but finally, he spoke. "Listen. What do you hear?"
    I gave a prompt response: "I hear the rain."
    Scylk chattered in stern disapproval. "No, Spala. Close your eyes. Trust your feet to keep you safe; focus on your ears."
    As we walked, I closed my eyes, listening, and stayed silent for a moment. "I can hear the wind," I said slowly. "I can hear the distant rumbling of thunder. I can hear your footsteps, and I can hear mine and everyone else's. I can hear myself breathing..." Suddenly, I stopped and laughed softly at the sound Scylk was making. I opened my eyes, smiling and shaking my head. "And I can hear you clicking your claws again. What am I doing wrong?"
    "Your ears are weak because you have never trusted them," he told me sagely. After pausing for a moment, he spoke again. "I hear my warriors talking about how they like the rain. I hear the muddy soil under your feet, and the babbling of a distant brook; I hear a dead tree crumbling to the ground, its rotten wood soaked with blood. I hear birds crying, unable to fly through the air with such blood-soaked wings. And to the east... I hear distant rumbling... but it is not thunder. Spala... use your eyes now. Look to the east. What do you see?"
    I peered through the rain and mist, and far, far off, I could make out a distant mountain range. "I see the Amber Barb," I said carefully. As I watched, tiny shapes fell from the sky, leaving thread-like trails of smoke as they plummeted into the hills. "Something is falling onto the mountains from the sky."
    "Yes," said Scylk in a solemn manner. "I can hear it, but cannot see it. I use what I am best with, and so do you."
    "If I practiced with my ears, I might be as good with them as you," I pointed out.
    The old warmaster seemed to do a double take, and he halted, as scythods continued to march past us. "Young Spala," he spoke finally, a hint of approval in his voice, "Well said..." Slowly, he started to walk forwards again, and I followed.
    "What is falling onto the mountains?" I asked.
    The warmaster seemed to curse, hissing out several words I'd never heard before. "They are the weapons of Klascoryf. Klascoryf seeks to kill my people, to keep us from joining 'Parasol', to strike at us for quitting their service and turning on them. But we will not join Parasol, for they are dwarves and humans, too."
    "I'm sorry," I whispered.
    "Do not be, young one," Scylk responded quietly, clicking his claws distractedly. "My people will be fine. Boulders always fell from the sky on Piscyth, and they were harder to hear... but these cause more damage..." He paused, lost in thought. Suddenly, he clicked his claws and spoke again. "No, let us speak of something different. I overheard the story of Lonne last night, now let me hear the story of Spala." He tapped me on the shoulder with a claw. "Do not leave out anything."

    As we walked, I told Scylk how I'd grown up in a fortress of dwarves, and how dwarves hated elves. I told him of how Ballpoint and Parasol had altered my mind; I told him of how I'd thought my sister died. I told him about Talvi, and about Mr Frog, and Urist, and Wari, and I told him of that hope I'd had... that hope that my sister had still been alive. I told him my memory of her, when Ballpoint had altered our memories together, and how I'd promised I'd get her back... and of how I'd failed... of how she'd died in my arms.
    Though I tried my best not to, I started crying, a gesture Scylk didn't understand, and he halted his pace. Salaia's death still pierced my heart, but I'd pushed it aside the past six months, trying to ignore it... I'd tried to forget everything, really. Now that I was talking about it to someone, it seemed all too recent again.
    It was painful.

    At some point, it had stopped raining, though the red clouds still hovered darkly overhead. The air stank with the scent of blood, but in the west above Spearbreakers, the sun hung low, and the clouds above glowed with bright-red linings as it cast its warmth towards us through the gap near the horizon. Despite the macabre surroundings - trees with heavy branches, bloodstained rock, gnats in abundance, and the scattered bones of long-dead animals - the golden sunset lent an almost peaceful feeling.
    "I am sorry for your loss." Scylk spoke in a quiet, clicking hiss. "Your sister had a cruel death. I, too, lost someone close to me, in much that way."
    I looked at him, wiping at my tears with bloodstained hands. "What do you mean?"
    But he was silent, and though I waited, he didn't reply. After waiting for several minutes, I gave up.
    As I began to walk back towards the rest of the scythods, I heard him whisper, so softly it was but an echo in my ears: "You remind me of my daughter, Spala."

    I slowed my pace in surprise, turning back to him. "You had a daughter?"
    "I do not like to speak of it." He turned away, facing the sunset and letting the sunbeams warm his chitin for a moment as he stood in silence. "I have a wife and son," he said finally. "My son remained on Piscyth. My wife lives in the mountains. But my daughter had a cruel death." Scylk's voice was quiet, almost melancholy, if that could be said of a series of clicks and hisses.
    I stepped closer to him, coming up to his side. "What happened?" I asked softly.
    He gave a long, unhappy hiss, and began to explain. "Klascoryf held my people in the bloodplains, readying our forces to attack Parasol. They intended that we should attack with them, but that morning, the wind came from the east... For the first time, we could smell the stone of the mountains. We were trapped within the camp of the Klascoryf by a field of force - a wall you cannot smell. We decided to bring it down and escape. It is sad that Klascoryf discovered our plans, and that my daughter, Kiba, desired to bring the wall down herself. She had studied their technology, and so I gave her what she wanted, assigning her and a few others to disable or destroy their electric generator."
    Scylk hissed again sadly, and it was a while before he continued. His soldiers were already far to our north, crossing the crest of a low hill, almost out of sight. "Our plan became one of desperation as the soldiers of Klascoryf marched into the camp with their weapons. Some of the younger scythods attacked Klascoryf's men and dwarves, and a battle began. I did not want a battle. I did not want my people to die. I had not wanted anyone to die.
    "I rushed to the force field and prepared to sever all the cables with my scythe, but as I did, I heard a loud crackling of electricity and a horrible wail of pain from the far end of the camp, past the Klascoryf - the voice of my daughter." He clicked his claws. "I had a choice. The soldiers were shouting for reinforcements, and if I rallied my people to save Kiba, we would all die. If I told everyone to stand down, I would save her, but our deaths would be for nothing, and we might never escape."
    "What did you do?" I whispered.
    "I severed the cables by the force field with my armscythe, one after another. They spouted lightning, searing my arm, but it was not nearly as painful as the loss of my daughter's life. My people escaped... and Kiba's death was because of me."
    Silently, Scylk held his right armscythe out towards me, stained with blood from the recent rain. I cautiously brushed my fingertips over the dark scar I'd come to recognize him by, feeling the smooth chitin where it'd been burned. "Does it hurt?" I asked softly.
    "Sometimes," he replied quietly, "but I would sear it a thousand times more if I could get my daughter back." He grew quieter, taking a few saddened steps towards the sunset, blood bubbling from the damp earth around his legspikes. "She was a sweet girl," Scylk said thoughtfully, lost in the memories. "She always refused the privelieges and rights of being a Warmaster's daughter, saying she should stand with our people. If anyone died, she was the first to comfort the survivors, even of the enemy... and she had odd little habits, like wanting her meat to be cooked before she ate. Much like you, Spala," he said, turning towards me. "She, too, always seemed sad... she missed our home, and the loss of her sibling. She did not fear death, either. You are more like her than you realize."
    "You miss her," I whispered, wiping a stray tear away.
    "I will always miss her."
    Without thinking, I stepped forwards and put my arms around him - a humanoid gesture. Slowly, hesitantly, he returned it with his lower arms, and for a moment we held this alien embrace; an understanding of each other's pain.
    Finally, I stepped back, and he spoke softly. "You see now why I have become fond of you... Your story both heartens and troubles me, Spala... You speak of dwarves that are not cruel; dwarves that are not evil, but kind."
    "We're not all like Ballpoint," I tried to reason. "Klascoryf, I mean. I'm not like most elves. I was raised by dwarves..."
    "Yet, you are not as cruel," Scylk pointed out, tapping me on the shoulder. "You do not share their hatred."
    I looked east at the emerging stars, which grew brighter as the sun sank below the horizon. "I dislike my own kind..." I said thoughtfully. "I hate Urist, and I hate Ballpoint, but they have good people, too... What a person does, or feels, or thinks, isn't defined by who they work for, or what they are. People define themselves. Ballpoint is a heartless company, so it more easily attracts heartless people, but that doesn't mean that all Ballpoint employees are like that." I paused for a moment, puzzling on what I'd said: I'd never thought about it before.
    "You are wise, Spala," he said quietly. "Perhaps, as it sounds, wiser than you know. But Aris't is not to blame for your sister's death."
    I hadn't expected that. "What?? What do you mean, Urist isn't to blame?"
    "You blame Aris't," Scylk said, tapping me on the shoulder with a claw. "He saved your life."
    "Scylk, he killed my sister!"
    "If it had been a Ballpoint soldier, would you have tried to save them?"
    "Yes, but -"
    Scylk silenced me. "You said Aris't did not know it was your sister. He had no reason to think it, as 'is'tir F'rok - No, I cannot say it well."
    "Mr Frog," I suggested, wondering what he was getting at.
    "Yes. He said you would not talk to your sister while you were there. Aris't would not have thought it was her."
    "Are you saying it was my fault?" I asked hotly.
    Scylk clicked his claws reproachfully. "Calm yourself, young one. He knew you would try to save the soldier's life, and he knew that if you stayed you would be killed. To him, killing the soldier was the correct thing to do, even if cruel. Even had he not fired the first shot of the three, you would not have been able to move your sister quickly enough, with her torn between allegiances. When he entered the room, he saw your sister holding a gun at your chest. He tried to save your life in wounding her, and in killing her, he did." He turned, as if to walk towards the north.
    "But he killed her! She was my sister!" I protested, running after him, trying to get him to understand.
    Halting, he faced me one last time. "How do you think he felt when he discovered that fact for himself?"
    I started to speak, but stopped in astoundment as his words sank in, watching openmouthed as Scylk stomped away. I'd always been too busy thinking about myself, and it'd never occurred to me... not even once...
    Urist would've been devastated.

    Suddenly, I knew what I had to do. I knew where I had to be. Though I didn't like to admit it, when I had a problem, I tended to run from it. I needed to stop running, for once, and face the problems at hand. I still couldn't forgive Urist, and I don't think I ever can... but I knew that at the very least, I should give him the chance to try to make amends... for his sake, if not mine.
    "Warmaster, wait!" I called, sprinting to catch up. "Wait!"
    He didn't slow. "Yes, Spala?"
    I slowed to a jog by his side as he quickly covered ground, his legspikes kniving into the damp earth. I didn't know what his response would be, but I knew I had to ask. "Warmaster Scylk, I need to go back to Spearbreakers... even if Talvi kills me."
    He lessened his pace gradually until he came to a standstill, chirping with his armscythes. "Why is this, young one?"
    "It's my home," I answered quietly. "It was wrong of me to try to run away, just to avoid Urist... in the end, he wasn't the one being cruel to me... I was being cruel to him."
    "Are these the only reasons?" he asked slowly. It felt as if he was testing me.
    I thought about it for a moment. "Everyone who knew me would be worried - Mr Frog, Wari, Draconik, Jack Magnus -"
    Scylk interrupted. "Do you miss them?"
    It was a simple question, but one that, for some reason, I didn't want to answer. Over the course of my life, I'd learned to push people away, almost as a reflex; if I ever let myself get close to them, they usually left when they discovered what I was. Pushing them away before I got attached just made things easier. I liked to tell myself that I was being independent, and I was a stronger person for it... but... Spearbreakers was different. "Yes," I said quietly, hanging my head. "Yes, I miss them." Then, "I miss my home."
    Scylk clacked his armscythes together loudly in approval. "Then let us return you, Spala!" he said, lowering himself towards the ground. "Climb onto my back," he urged, and after I had, sitting between both sets of legs, he raised himself and started forwards at an incredible speed. The wind tugged at us as we ran against it, flying over the damp, red loam of the bloodplains, towards the rest of the scythods.
    It occurs to me now that maybe the reason he told me about his daughter was to try to spur me into wanting to return to my home.

~~~

    That night, Scylk gathered together his squads and stood before them; a mighty general before his soldiers. I watched from the back, eager to hear what he would say. Scylk didn't often make speeches.
    "We are going to the West," the warmaster chattered loudly, his clicks echoing between the hills. "We are going to Spearbreakers." Not a sound issued from the gathered troops, but from their body language I could tell they didn't like the sound of it. "It has been said that the dwarves of Spearbreakers are unlike the dwarves of Klascoryf - we march to test this fact. If they accept us, then we will remain with them for a time. If they prove themselves to be like Klascoryf, we will kill them!"
    I gasped, my eyes wide. "What?!" I yelled. A multitude of clacking scythes drowned me out.
    A voice hissed at my elbow: "Vanya, shh!" Turning, I saw it was John.
    "What do you mean, 'shh'?" I echoed in a quieter tone, trying to listen to Scylk as he continued. "They're going to destroy Spearbreakers!"
    John shook his head and looked away. "If it's like what you've always told me, they won't."
    I hated how distant he seemed. "You're coming with us, too," I said cautiously, watching him.
    "I know." He hardly responded at all.
    "You'll have to be careful not to let on who you are; nobody at Spearbreakers knows about the timewar between Parasol and Ballpoint," I added.
    I got my reaction, but it wasn't what I'd hoped: John grimaced and started to walk away, hands shoved into his pockets.
    "John?" I asked after him, worried.
    Without turning, he halted.
    "John, what's going on?"
    There was a period of silence between us. Scylk had resumed his speech, and suddenly the scythods before him erupted in another burst of applause.
    This time I said it with a little more force. "John??"
    In a voice so quiet I could hardly hear him, he said, "They'll all know before long anyway."
    I cocked my head at the back of his curiously, taking a step closer. "What are you talking about?"
    "Someone hired Ballpoint to destroy them."

    I was left staring in shock as John - head hung, shoulders slumped - walked away into the night.

☆

[Talvieno]

Chapter 33: Parting Ways
You pause from reading aloud for a moment and look around the little tomb in which you sit. Dr. Thian Russ has not yet returned, but the mysterious woman sitting across from you seems completely absorbed in the journal, and returns your glance with a cold, distant gaze. You feel you should speak to her, but you hesitate. In the end, you decide to continue to read and translate Vanya's ancient, elvish script. Perhaps, you feel, she will open up to you eventually, and the mysteries surrounding her will solve themselves.

    I doubt that around any star, in any galaxy, in any universe, dimension or timeline, there exists a single sentient species that doesn't feel pain. I don't mean physical pain... I guess that's conceivable. I mean emotional pain. No matter how hard we try to pretend or block it out, when we lose someone we love... it hurts.


    Spearbreakers was faintly visible in the west: a fortress of walls and towers standing tall above the dense, bloodstained jungle forests. A month had passed since Scylk's speech, and the journey was slow. Although scythods could run fast, they took their time in moving, always being cautious. It wasn't like them to make an abrupt decision, and that was exactly what Scylk had done... While he was out of earshot, some of his soldiers would speak softly against him, though there were just as many who would defend him with an equal fervor. I wasn't sure what to think, and I didn't really have much of anyone to talk with. Scylk was always busy, and John didn't seem to feel like talking most of the time, almost seeming as if he was intentionally avoiding me. For the first time since I’d found the scythods, I actually felt like a prisoner.
    Ballpoint patrols were becoming more and more frequent, and we had to stop more and more often to dispatch them. Sometimes some of the scythods were injured, but nothing like what had happened when they'd found me. I was the exception in their tactics: they'd been careful not to injure me, and had ended up injuring themselves. A few of the scythods still held some resentment towards me for that soldier's death, and the increased frequency with which we met Ballpoint’s patrols seemed to strengthen that resentment.
    The blood plains were becoming far more dangerous than before.

~~~

    "Kathafa pibilk! Kloss Lorta!"
    It was night, and the scythod's cry startled me from my sleep with the opposite effect of a bad dream. Instead of leaving a nightmare as I awoke, I was entering one: "Kloss Lorta" is their name for the Holistic Spawn.
    I heard a blood-chilling screech, a sound I'd come to know very well from my prison days. I didn't even have to ask what it was. Other screeches, one after another, followed the first... multitudes, it seemed. My heart pounded wildly in my chest, and I looked about in horrified bewilderment, trying to decide which way to run.
    The moon broke through the clouds above me, and I suddenly beheld a terrible sight: less than a thousand feet away, a few scythods were trying desperately to defend themselves as at least fifteen Spawn hacked them to bits.
    "They're over here!" I screamed, but my efforts were of little worth... Scylk's army was already charging past me in scattered disarray to meet the threat. I bit my lip and fell to my knees, praying to the gods with all I had that we'd survive.

    In the moonlight, it was hard to tell what happened... the scythods clustered around our aggressors, whirring and clacking. They sliced with their scythes, while the Spawn sliced with their claws, gnashing with their teeth. The scythods followed suit, employing their teeth with terrifying efficiency. "The heart!" I heard them yell from time to time. "You must stab them in the heart!" I heard them cursing and calling on their gods for assistance, echoed by the enemy’s unearthly demonic screams. The battle seemed to last forever, and it was impossible to see who was ahead.
    Finally, finally, as the first whispers of sunrise teased the tips of the eastern mountain range, everything quieted. I rushed over to see what had happened, half-afraid of what I'd find.

    "Stop!" the warmaster clacked forbiddingly. I halted my pace, unsure of whether or not he was talking to me. It turned out that he wasn’t. "You must not eat their corpses. If you do, we will become as the Kloss Lorta." He was speaking to his troops, who stood clustered around a great number of mutilated corpses.
    "Warmaster, our dead cannot remain here as they are!" a brown-tinged soldier protested. "Fully four of our own! It is dishonorable! We bring shame to our enemy, ourselves, and our dead!" Half a dozen scythods chattered their agreement. As I drew closer, I could see that most of the scythods seemed to be limping or nursing wounds. Scythod blood is strange... it’s green, but... if it makes sense, it’s a greener green than "green"... I don’t know how else to describe it.
    "We have no choice, Klade," Scylk said with finality. "If anyone here has been bitten, they, too, must be put to rest, lest we release one of these monsters upon ourselves."
    Anger tinted Klade’s voice. "Is there no other way? Can not our injured be healed? We are stronger than the petty dwarves, the loathed kliskik! We can take what they cannot! They are hateful, evil to begin with! They are pak!!"
    The warmaster stomped his forelegs into the ground, clacking his teeth with force, almost shouting. "There is no choice! I have seen it, Klade! They will turn, as dwarves do, into a twisted mockery of our kind! We cannot allow that to come to pass! It is more shameful and dishonorable than even this death." He paused for a moment, and seemed to calm, slowing his breath. "You are my right hand, Klade, and your words hold much weight, but this must be done. I hate it just as much as you do."
    I watched, dumbstruck, as two scythods walked forwards from the ranks – one with a broken arm, the other with a bad limp.
    Scylk solemnly rested his scythes on their upper shoulders and spoke softly. "You will be remembered with honor, Por'bak, and Chal'lk. For though your bodies cannot be consumed, your spirits will become one with her holiness, Lacsa, and your memory shall live on forever."
    The other soldiers gave a solemn roar of agreement, and Scylk pulled back his scythes. I turned away, tears edging down my face... I couldn't watch their execution. They offered themselves so selflessly, when they had so much to live for otherwise... had I been in their position, I don't know if I could've done it.
    The sound of a scythe bit cruelly through the air, followed by two soft thuds that spoke much louder than their volume. Turning back, I saw their bisected bodies, lying on the ground amidst a semicircle of quiet, somber scythods. One by one, they turned, walking back past me towards where they'd made camp, until only Scylk remained. I watched him for a moment from afar, wondering why he stayed. Suddenly he lifted his neckstalk to the sky, letting out a long, bone-chilling wail that pierced my heart and made me shiver as it echoed across the plains. Anyone could’ve understood that cry:  it was the voice of anguish and despair.

~~~

    Later that morning, K’bahth, one of Scylk’s officers, told me that Scylk desired my presence. I followed the soldier back, and Scylk greeted me quietly, asking K’bahth to leave. Scylk's right upper shoulder bore the slash of a Holistic Spawn's claw, and his chitin elsewhere seemed badly damaged. He'd been in the thickest of the fight, I later learned.
    After K’bahth was out of earshot, Scylk spoke hesitantly, with a feeling of regret. "Spala, we cannot go forwards to Spearbreakers. I am sorry. We are not equipped to deal with the Kloss Lorta, and have taken heavy losses. None of us wish to continue."
    "I understand, warmaster," I said quietly. After the battle, I'd expected it, really... "I'll continue on my own, if that's all right with you... Spearbreakers is close enough for me to see it."
    Scylk clicked his claws in disapproval. "I cannot allow that," he chattered firmly. "It is far too dangerous for even a scythod, and the skin of an Alaf is far softer. You must remain with us. In addition... you should begin avoiding Klade's company."
    I looked at him cautiously with a sense of foreboding. "...Why?"
    "Klade lost his daughter this morning," the old scythod explained. "I myself had to execute her... I feel he harbors some resentment towards me for it. He possesses a strong, independent spirit, and may try to harm you.
    "Okay..." I pursed my lips. "Then where are we going?"
    "Home," Scylk replied, and then, almost apologetically, he added, "or... such that it is. We return to the Amber Barb. We do not have enough soldiers remaining to continue patrolling the blood plains."
    "And I'm coming with you..." I whispered, my eyes widening.
    He clacked his scythes. "You guess well, young one. You will be safe among my people, and perhaps," he said hopefully, "perhaps you can lend us your skills that Mr Frog has taught you, and build us a portal to return to our true home, Piscyth."
    I almost gasped, a smile spreading over my face. "Could I come, too?" The idea of leaving Everoc behind forever strongly appealed to me. "I would love go to the stars..."
    Unfortunately, he didn't seem to approve of the idea. "It would be dangerous for you, Spala... We will talk about it later, perhaps. First we must make it to the mountains."

    A loud, harsh voice hissed out from behind me, biting into the cool air: "We will not be going to the mountains." I spun around and saw a gray-brown scythod clicking his claws distastefully. "My soldiers enjoy the rain here, and it will become our home. We have women among us, and can create a new colony on this world. Boulders do not fall from the sky here, nor do winds and rain eat our skin like acid. It is beautiful, and we shall stay."
    Scylk seemed indignant. "Your soldiers, do you say? Tell me, Klade, when did they become yours? I am a Warmaster of our people and a member of the high council of Scask. I am the son of the Grand Mystic himself. It falls to me to lead our armies."
    "Not anymore!" Klade countered. "You have led us to ruin, Scylk! Your fondness for this Alaf has nearly destroyed us!" His words rang out loudly, and the other scythods began to cluster around us as he continued. "You follow her advice as if it is your own, taking us right into the stronghold of the dwarves! Do you truly believe they will be any different from the Klascoryf? They will enslave us! They will kill us if we do not serve them!"
    "This is mutiny, Klade! This is treason!" He was nearly trembling with rage.
    "No!" Klade hissed. "It is an insurrection. You must step down, Scylk. Your whole army is against you."
    A scythod stepped forwards. "That is untrue!" he clacked. "Though I would enjoy staying on the blood plains, I trust the warmaster more. He is the finest soldier I've ever had the privilege of knowing."
    Scylk turned briefly. "Thank you, K'bahth. You are a fine soldier as well, brother." Then, to Klade, "It would appear you assume wrongly of our people. We may be tattered, but together we still number fourteen, and we will stand as one!"
    "Lies!" Klade spat through his teeth. "Your speeches are empty and worthless!" He turned to the gathered crowd. "Who among you really wish Scylk to remain warmaster? Which of you are fools that would follow him?"
    There was a silence for a moment, and then, a loud clacking of armscythes.
    "Over half," Scylk said tersely.
    Klade turned and stomped forwards angrily. "But six still wish you deposed, and others may follow! You are old and weak! You are unfit to lead!"
    "I am as strong as any, young Klade!" Scylk roared. "You are foolish and affected by the recent loss of your daughter! I, too, have lost a child to a cruel death! It is still no cause for this idiocy!"
    Klade seemed outraged. "'Idiocy'?! You call sensibility 'idiocy'?" He stopped, turning back to the crowd. "Do you see now who leads you? Your beloved warmaster is backwards! His mind is addled! He is weak!"
    My blood boiled; I couldn't stand it any longer. "Listen to yourself!" I shouted at him. "You're just upset! I've lost someone I've loved, too; I understand how you feel! Honor her memory, and don't do something you're going to regret!"
    Like lightning, the soldier spun around, slicing towards my chest with a scythe. I didn't even have time to react. There was a loud clack as his scythe stopped short, inches from my throat – Scylk had stopped Klade's armscythe with his own.
    "Do not ever speak of my daughter, foul Alaf!" Klade growled hatefully, his voice strained through the force he was putting into his scythe. "You stain her memory with your words."
    "We do not kill prisoners, Klade," Scylk interrupted ominously. "That, and treason, is punishable by exile."
    After a final, futile effort, Klade reluctantly withdrew his scythe. "I challenge you, Scylk," he hissed. "By the laws of our people, I challenge you to a death duel."
    There was a pause. An astonished murmur seemed to run through Scylk's little army, but Scylk retained his cool presence. "By the laws of our people, at least one-third of those present must desire it," the warmaster noted.
    "Over one-third have!"
    "Yes, but we should ask again now that they've seen your reasoning, and your actions," Scylk replied with a knowing hiss. "Who here desires us to duel to the death?"
    This time, even I, with my untrained ears, could hear the number of scythods that clacked their scythes: it was only two.
    Klade stopped short in amazement. "You are all fools," he hissed. "All of you!"
    The warmaster spoke calmly again, with the formal air of a seasoned general. "And you, Klade, are a traitor, and thus must be exiled. I think you may actually find that to your preference, as you do not wish to return to the mountains. You may live out your life to the end, here on the blood plains. We are done here."
    With that, Scylk turned and began slowly stomping away through the red mud. Klade, however, stayed where he was, dumbfounded by the warmaster's words. "You would abandon me, Scylk? Me, your right hand?"
    Pausing, Scylk spoke softly. "I did not abandon you, Klade. You abandoned me."

~~~

    We traveled far that afternoon... it was clear that the scythods felt as though they were fleeing something, but whether it was the Spawn, the ghosts of the dead, or even the dishonorable battle, I can't say. Everyone was quiet and somber. There was a brief shower of blood later towards the evening, and none of them seemed to enjoy it. There wasn't any joking conversation, or any of the typical chittering one normally heard. It was like a funeral... it actually reminded me of The Master's.
    That night, I sat by my little campfire as I always did, cooking my supper on a stick over the flames. There was a slight wind fanning the flames, and whisking dried, dead leaves across the ground. John wasn’t around, but that wasn't unusual anymore. After his outburst, he'd grown distant... he'd started to stray away whenever I came near, almost as if he was ashamed to be around me.
    Suddenly, a voice spoke out on my left. "Alaf? Spala?" Startled, I turned from the fire and strained my eyes into the darkness, trying to see who it was. A tall, dark gray scythod stomped towards me into the flickering light, with John by his side. "Spala, you must come with me."
    Putting my supper to the side, I got to my feet. "Who are you?" I asked. I could tell from the scarless armscythe that it wasn't Scylk.
    "I am K'bahth, but it matters not," he said. "Come. Scylk desires your presence."

    Scylk sat before a flickering fire, waiting patiently for us. With a claws on our shoulders, K'bahth silently guided John and I to sit, and then took a seat by the fire himself.
    "Spala... Lonne..." Scylk spoke, almost hesitantly. He seemed regretful... almost sad.
    I was getting worried. "Is something wrong?" I asked, trying unsuccessfully to read his body language.
    He ignored my question. "K'bahth and I, and the other elders, have discussed our situation after this morning's events. I regret to say that you will not be coming with us to the Amber Barb."
    I almost got to my feet in surprise. "What?? You can't leave me here!"
    "Did you forget about me?" John asked me, seeming agitated. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back down.
    "I am sorry," Scylk told us quietly. "Today's events have reminded me that some of our people, back at home, do not like the fact that I am Warmaster. If you were to remain with me, you would not be prisoners anymore, but members of my people. Scythods treat duels to the death as personal matters. Eventually someone will attempt to kill you both, to strike at me. I cannot allow that."
    My head was spinning. "What... Then... what am I going to... Where..." I paused, trying to collect my thoughts. "What's going to happen to us? We won't last a week on the blood plains! You know that, Scylk!" I glanced over at John, who didn't seem nearly as concerned.
    "My brother will stay with you, to keep you safe, and guide you to a settlement of Parasol," the warmaster explained.
    From beside him, K'bahth spoke. "I have already accepted. It would bring me honor to assist you, Spala."
    After eight or nine months of traveling with the scythods, it was hard to take in. "But I've spent so long with you. Please, please let me stay!" I begged. I didn't want to have to face Parasol again, with all its reminders of my sister and Urist. "I'll be careful, I promise! And... I didn't even know you had a brother."
    "Half-brother," said K'bahth quietly.
    "Full in spirit," Scylk said, tapping him on the shoulder with a claw. "But Spala, there is no option. You would not be safe among my people. They would look at you as they do the dwarves, as they do humans, as they do the Klascoryf. They are prejudiced. They are not yet ready."
    "But why Parasol?" John interjected. "Why not a human settlement?"
    "Parasol settlements are closer," Scylk pointed out sagely. "They have portals, so they can send you wherever you desire. More importantly, Spala is one of them."
    I hated hearing that. "But –"
    "That is enough," Scylk said firmly. "I did not call this meeting for a discussion, only to give information. You will depart in the morning with K'bahth and Klade."
    That was too much. "Klade?!"
    K'bahth clacked his scythes, chirping humorously. "Did you think I was coming along for my own amusement?"

    I slept fitfully that night.

☆

[Talvieno]

Chapter 34: The Blood Plains
To your great annoyance, the next two pages of the journal are stuck together. You hold it up to the light, and through the thin sheets, you can make out dark outlines of text, so you know they aren't blank. You bend them a bit, hoping they'll separate without much effort, but as you do so, several pale blue sheets of paper flutter to the table from further on in the journal. You pick them up and look at them curiously, noting that the handwriting is in human, not dwarven or elven. It's clearly not Vanya's at all.
    "What is this?" you ask the woman across from you, holding up the fallen sheets with a quizzical expression.
    She shrugs. "You think I know?"
    "You're the only one around to ask," you point out, carefully inserting the sheets with the others. As you do, you notice a number of other loose sheets, of varying size and quality. However, you ignore these, figuring you'll read them when you get to them, and you turn back to your two stuck pages. After carefully pulling them apart, you continue reading.

    Leaving someone is hard, if you care about them. Even if the person's bad qualities outweigh their good, you're afraid, subconsciously, that they'll be different when you get back. People change. It's something you learn early on in life... It's something you try to forget... it's something you never can.
    We fear change. It doesn't matter what it is that's changing, so long as it doesn't change often. We all have that weakness. And... I am no exception.

    It was late autumn of 209. It was the dry season, and it hadn't rained for several weeks. Stray, dead leaves tumbled across the plains from distant trees. Scattered, sparse clumps of bramble and thorn bushes caught them sometimes, holding them captive until they rotted. The sky was always an inhospitable gray, and the morning sun did little to brighten it, or bring back that old, familiar sky-blue color, while the low-hung crimson clouds only reinforced the gloom. The scenery was always this macabre, but now that I was finally leaving it behind... I didn't want to. I wanted to stay with Scylk.
    "Warmaster," I said in a pleading tone, "just give me a chance. I know I can help get your people back to Piscyth. They wouldn't try to kill me if they thought I could return them to their home, would they?"
    There was a brief silence between us, and we stood side by side, watching the leaves as they fluttered by. After a moment, Scylk held his mouth upwards as if tasting the wind, and then turned it back to me. "I am sorry, Spala," he clicked with a tinge of regret.
    I felt a sinking feeling in my chest. "You can't send me away like this, Scylk. There's nothing for me here anymore, you have to understand," I said earnestly, placing a hand on his scythe. "Everyone I loved is gone. I don't have anywhere to go. I want to come with you... I want to see the stars."
    He gave a quiet chuckle, chirping with his scythes. "Lucky girl," he said softly, "look around you. Look at whom you have traveled with since last winter." Scylk gestured towards his soldiers behind us, and tapped me on the shoulder. "You want to come to the stars, but Spala... the stars have already come to you."
    I couldn't argue with it, and I felt a lump in my throat. "Scylk, I don't want to leave you... You've become almost like a father to me."
    He clacked softly. "What you say honors me, and warms my soul. I would be proud to call you a daughter, if we meet again."
    "But what if we never do?"
    "Then we shall not, but nonetheless, I am sure we will."
    He seemed more than confident as he said it... it seemed almost as if he knew. All the same, I wasn't so convinced. "How can you be so sure?"
    "Young Spala," he chuckled, "I am aged over three hundred of your years, and a child of the Grand Mystic. I see things others cannot. One day, we will meet again. It will not be until I persuade my people that not all Dwarves and Humans are evil, but one day... we shall. Our paths are crossed too tightly to forbid a second meeting, and if you do not come to me, then I will come to you." This time, he didn't wait for me to argue, instead placing a clawed hand on my shoulder and guiding me forwards. "Now go, Spala. Lonne awaits you. May the winds be at your back and the rocks fall ever from your trail."
    It was the last time I saw him.

    I approached my little group uncertainly, wondering what I should say. Two of them I'd "met", if you could call it that, the day before. Only a couple of the scythods had really ever taken the time to speak more than a few words to me. The third member of the group, John, I knew well... but he was still so, so distant, and something about his new attitude made me reluctant to trust him.
    "Are we going now?" I asked, looking at K'bahth. He and Klade were easy to tell apart: Klade was a brownish ashen-gray, and K'bahth was dark gray except for several faint greenish stripes on his legspikes. Scythods tell each other apart by smell and voices, but sight was good enough for me.
    "We are," he answered solemnly. "Where will we go?"
    I thought for a moment. "To the north," I said finally. "We go north. Scylk said there's a Parasol base in that direction."
    K'bahth clacked his scythes. "Yes, so there is, but it is far."
    I turned away from him and started walking up the side of the next hill. "It can't be too far. It's only ten miles from Spearbreakers to the mountains. The blood plains aren't that large; we've only been traveling in circles for the past year." I said this last with distaste, talking loudly over my shoulder as they began to follow. "Imagine how far we'll get if we walk in a straight line!"

~~~

    We did travel far that day, something that the scythods had never done in all the time I'd been their prisoner. They'd taken care to keep themselves concealed whenever possible, traveling among the hills and taking roundabout paths. Though the wind was against us, I led us straight northwards. I considered the choice more intelligent than an "overcautious" route.
    As I soon learned, there was a reason that Scylk had always led his army with such care...

    Mid-afternoon, Klade stopped us with a hiss.
    "Something on the wind," he hissed. "I smell... danger."
    John scoffed. "How do you 'smell danger'?" he asked skeptically in their tongue.
    "Do not mock; I smell it too," K'bahth said brusquely, with a worried tone. "Make haste, we must tunnel." He began to dig at the soft earth with his scythes and claws, shoveling it away behind him.
    Klade sent a distasteful hiss in my direction. "We should not have traveled so quickly, Alaf. It is Kloss Lorta that I smell," he said, and began to dig by K'bahth's side. "It is coming from downwind, so they smell us, and are very close."
    Crossing his arms, John asked nervously, "Holistic Spawn? Can't we just outrun them?"
    I shook my head. "Even with all their limbs severed, they can move as fast as a dwarf can sprint. They're too fast," I explained.
    Frowning, John shot a sideways look at me and got to his knees to help the scythods. He seemed terrified out of his wits, and I didn't blame him. Little was as dangerous as the Spawn of Holistic.
    I stood there alone, feeling helpless... feeling as if I'd led everyone into a trap. I watched as their scythes and claws sliced through the dirt, deeper and deeper.
    "This won't be enough," I warned. "If it's spawn, it won't stop them!"
    John spun around towards me with a glare that knocked me back a step. "Then get down here and help us!" he growled, and went back to digging, panting heavily.
    "No..." I whispered. None of them heard me, and I was glad of it. I felt as if I was half insane. Thoughts raced through my mind, knowledge of stealth and camouflage, but I had no idea when I'd learned it. "If we just dig a tunnel like we do for the Ballpoint soldiers, it won't be enough," I breathed, trying to grasp at the thoughts as they whirled by. "No, we need..."
    With dancing eyes, I scanned the area, searching, and my gaze came to rest on a nearby blood oak.
    "I'll be right back!" I called. "Keep digging!"

    I rushed over to the solitary tree and began climbing its reeking trunk. It was dead, and it looked like it had been for a while: the bark was coated in hanging moss, quivering fungi, and congealed blood. It was the most disgusting thing I'd seen in a while, but I ignored that as best I could, climbing to the first colossal limb and stomping on it with all my weight.
    It wouldn't crack.
    Thankfully, I remembered my daggers, and drew one out, looking at it in the grayish light. It'd been forever since I'd had reason to use them.
    Gritting my teeth, I grabbed the branch and stabbed it, twisting left and right until I heard a loud groan. Slowly but steadily, the bark split, revealing the whitish wood beneath as gravity began to take hold. As it gained momentum, a series of loud cracks pealed through the air, and the huge branch twisted downwards, crashing against the ground ten feet below and severing itself from the tree. I jumped down lightly after it and started dragging the branch towards the ever-deepening hole. It was a lot heavier than I thought it would be, and I struggled with it, trying to get a good grip.
    "What do you think you're doing?!" John half-screamed at me from the pit he was helping dig. "What good is that going to do?"
    At his tone, I felt a flicker of anger towards him. "It'll help keep us from getting killed, but I need your help!"
    Muttering, John set his hands against the lip of the pit and pulled himself out and pulled himself out. Dirt flew past his shoulders as the scythods dug, and he started towards me with something akin to a death glare. "What is this supposed to do?" he asked, flicking a hand towards the foul-smelling branch.
    I tried to push his attitude out of my mind, but unsuccessfully. "If we just dig, the Spawn will still know we're there. They'll smell us, John; they'll see the fresh-dug earth. Help me get this over there, now!" I was a little harsh, admittedly, but I was frustrated.
    Muttering curses, he grabbed the other side of the branch, and slowly, we began making progress towards the hole. "We'll need to break it up when we get there and set it on fire. K'bahth has some flint and tinder in his pack, so he can take care of it."
    "It'll suck all the air out of our hole," John said critically, shaking his head. "It won't work. We'll suffocate even if they don't find us."
    "The burning part doesn't have to be on top of the entrance," I pointed out, and then turned to him again. "Why are you acting like this, John?" I asked softly, frowning. "What's happened to you? Why have you changed?"
    He didn't respond, or even acknowledge that I'd spoken. He only continued to drag his side of the branch, as I struggled with mine.
    "You've been like this ever since you told me the story about your past..." I went on, guessing at the source. "I don't hold any of it against you, you know..."
    He hesitated for a moment, readjusting his grip on the fallen limb to buy himself time. "I hold it against myself," he muttered. "Spearbreakers is going to be destroyed, the scythod will be wiped out, and Parasol will be gone. After that, everyone else on Everoc will die. Nothing can be done about it, and I used to be part of the reason they'll fall." He halted his pace and looked at me. "Isn't that enough to make me bitter?"
    I had mixed feelings about what he'd said, and I felt my lips twisting into a frown. "It's not enough to make you bitter towards me," I said quietly, glancing at him through narrowed eyes as I continued to tug at the blood oak's rotting wood.

~~~

    I lay in the tiny tunnel, hardly daring to breathe, praying silently to the gods for our safety. Above and to my left, between the crossed rotting branches, the smoke from our fire blurred my view of the cloud-strewn sky. Klade, K'bahth and John lay noiselessly beside me, and we waited.
    We'd heard their blood lusting screams as they'd approached. They knew we knew. They hadn't bothered trying to sneak up on us.
    Another screech echoed through the tunnel, a blood-curdling cry I knew all too well from my prison days. As John and I watched, two of them came into view. I'd seen Spawn before, but the look of horror on John's face showed very clearly that he'd never gotten so close a look. They were hideous; their charred and shriveled flesh clung tightly to their bones. Their ribcages were split open as if on hinges, with rows of sharp teeth down the gash in their chest, opening and closing as what body fluids they had left trickled down them like saliva. Their transformation had stretched their arms and legs to unnatural lengths, with huge, sharp claws in place of their hands... Their bloodshot eyes seemed to bear a deathless gaze, but you could still see signs that they had once been dwarves. One's beard was braided down the sides, and the other sported long sideburns. Even so, I found it difficult to feel sorry for them while looking at what they'd become...
    They walked around our branches, sniffing loudly at them. One of them walked too close to the flames and I saw them lick across its chest, but the murderous creature didn't even flinch. They seemed to speak to each other through quiet shrieks, almost like the squeals of pigs. They didn't seem to be able to smell us, with the awful stench of the burning blood oak all around, but I was still sweating with fear.
    Without warning, one let out a screech so loud that it startled me, and together, they left, heading towards the north, galloping forwards with their long arms.
    "They left," John whispered, wide-eyed. "That was... gods, that was awful."
    I nodded. "We should stay here for the night, to let them get as far away from us as possible."
    "I agree with Spala," Klade chattered sullenly. "It is wiser to remain here."
    I hadn't expected that from him. "Thank you, Klade," I said softly. He didn't respond, but from then on, I felt a little safer around him.
   
    The night passed slowly, and with the foul smell from the rotting blood oak, it was difficult to sleep. Sometimes I thought I heard the faint sounds of someone screaming distantly, but I couldn't be sure. It bit at my heart that someone might have died because we hid instead of fought, but what were we to do? Except for my daggers, we were weaponless, and they're worthless against Holistic Spawn.

    The next morning, we all got up, ate breakfast, and set off again towards the north. It was quiet - nobody really seemed to care to talk, until finally, K'bahth spoke up.
    "Last night, I heard a human screaming to the north," he clicked quietly. He seemed torn between whether or not he should relish the thought.
    Klade's feelings weren't so mixed. "As did I, and I am glad," he hissed. "If the Kloss Lorta killed humans because they couldn't find us, then we did well."
    "Don't say things like that," I said. "Not all humans belong to Ballpoint, and there are plenty of good humans out there that do, or used to." I caught John's eye; he gave me a nod of acknowledgement. It made me smile with hope.

    The farther we walked, the more we were sure that we were approaching civilization.
    "I smell humans on the wind," K'bahth said thoughtfully, waving a foreleg about. "They are close."
    "Is it Parasol?" John asked.
    Klade scoffed in return. "How are we to know? You all smell alike, human."
    I glanced across the plains, shielding my eyes from the rising sun on my right. Far to the north, I could just barely make out a line of trees, their bare limbs unstained by blood. "We're close to the end of the blood plains; I can see the end," I told my companions.
    "We should travel east now," K'bahth replied quickly. "The foothills of the Amber Barb are before us."
    "Wait," I said. "I think I see something." I thought I could make out a few tents nestled among the trees. "I wish I had binoculars," I whispered.
    "Aren't you an elf?" John asked. "Isn't your eyesight better than mine?"
    "It's not as good as you'd think," I admitted, and continued peering northwards. "I can see tents... There are a couple people moving among them." I stopped and looked back for a second at John. "How many leagues do you think we traveled yesterday?"
    "At least fifteen," the man replied. "There still shouldn't be any settlements close by."
    A scream rang out in the distance. There was no denying it this time.
    "They need help!" I said, turning to the scythods. "We need to help them."
    "Are you mad?" Klade hissed, twisting his mouth towards me. "We lack supplies or medicine. They are humans. Let them overcome their problems on their own."
    "We're going towards a Parasol base," I replied curtly, turning and starting north at a brisk pace. "They have medicine there, and better medicine than anyone native to Everoc has."
    John jogged to catch up with me and grabbed my arm. "Vanya, we can't let them know about the timewar. If they see the scythods..."
    I looked down at his hand. "It won't be long before they all know anyway, John. You said so yourself."
    It was good enough for him, and he let go, matching his pace with mine. K'bahth and Klade soon caught up with us, their spikes thudding into the ground, and I glanced back at them for a moment. I only hope the scythods don't scare them to death, I thought with a smile.

☆

[Talvieno]

(Lord) Reudh during his reign. Art by Splint.

Chapter 35: An Unexpected Meeting
    You glance at the woman across from you for a moment, wondering why she's so silent. She returns your stare almost mechanically, and for a moment, you enter a sort of staring contest.
    She wins.
    "How did you know Vanya?" you ask. "You said you knew her, which means you're a time traveler."
    "That's not something that should be discussed," the woman says in a low voice, glancing around for cameras. "I could get in trouble for that; don't mention it again, please."
    "But -"
    "Please, just keep reading," she prods you. And so you do.

    An hour passed slowly, and then another. The distant camp drew closer, the reddened, blood-soaked earth shrinking between us. Finally, the humans seemed to notice that we were there... and they seemed terrified.
    "Please don't kill us!" I heard a shout. "We have no ill will towards you!"
    My eyes widened. I knew that voice.
    "Reudh?" I called. "Lord Reudh?" Starting to walk faster, I peered towards them, and could easily make out Reudh's shape. It was him.
    John rushed forwards in front of me and turned his head, looking at me crazily. "Are you serious? You know them?"
    I nodded. "He was an overseer at Spearbreakers... I have no idea why he's out here." I broke into a jog, rushing forwards towards my old acquaintance. The scythods behind me followed suit.

    As we approached, I got a good look at the two humans that stood beside Reudh. One, though short, had the muscular build of a farmer, and was holding a wicked-looking knife. The other had the looks of a warrior, but held his sword a little awkwardly. For the most part, they ignored me, gripping their weapons tightly as they nervously anticipated combat with the eight-foot scythods. A skirmish was the last thing I wanted. "I'm a friend; lower your weapons!" I yelled, and to my relief, they complied.
    Reudh seemed to recognize me. "Vanya? Is that really you?" he called out, beginning to jog forwards.
    "It's me! I'm Vanya; we're friends! I saw you a couple times at Spearbreakers!" I shouted back.
    He seemed to fly over the ground towards me, and we met in the middle, looking at each other gladly. He tried to embrace me, but I shrank away from him in awkward confusion. Unless I'd forgotten something, we didn't know each other quite that well.
    "Um..." I said, looking at him curiously, "How are you?"
    Awkwardly, he tried to turn the embrace into scratching his reddish-brown beard. "I am doing well, Vanya! It is so good to see you again!"
    One of Reudh's companions spoke, coming up behind him. "So this is her, Lord Reudh? The girl we've been hunting down?" It was the man I'd thought looked like a warrior.
    That confused me even further. "Hunting down??" I asked. I glanced over at John, who was smirking.
    Reudh seemed to beam, almost unable to take his eyes off me. It felt a little creepy, but somehow cute at the same time. He turned to his companion and spoke excitedly. "Yes, Tedaz! I am only too glad to finally find her!" To me, he said, "I have searched for you for months! But oh, my dear, you look like you have been through quite a lot."
    I looked down at my imitation-Ballpoint uniform, bloodstained as it was. Though I hadn't had anything to change into for the past year, the stitching had held up well. My thoughts went to my unkempt hair, and then to my ears. He doesn't know I'm an elf, I thought. I tried to casually cover one ear with a hand, and turn the other side of my head away from Reudh, so he wouldn't see. I hated that I'd forgotten to put Jack Magnus's cap back on.
    However, Reudh noticed, and took my hand gently from my ear. "There is no need, Vanya, dearest," he said softly. "I know you are an elf, but I mind it not."
    It surprised me. I started to make a grateful reply... but did a double take instead. "Wait, 'dearest'?" I was completely bewildered. "What do you mean?"
    Reudh's other companion, the odd little farmer, walked up by his side. "Well, Lord Reudh, this is your girl, eh? Haha, yes, I can see why you like her! Mighty fine, she is, if she got cleaned up a tad."
    I went crimson. "What do you mean, 'his girl'? I only met him once!"
    John had been chuckling beside me, but now he burst out laughing.
    I glared at him. "This isn't funny!" I couldn't figure out if it was all a joke at my expense, or if they were actually serious.
    Behind me, Klade started chirping in amusement, startling Reudh and his companions. "You were right, Spala. Coming here was well worth it."
    The crimson of my face deepened with embarrassment. "Reudh!" I said sharply. "What's going on??"
    K'bahth found it funny, too. "It seems you have a suitor, Spala."
    Reudh eyed the scythods worriedly for a moment, and then turned back to me. He seemed to feel a little defeated by what I'd been saying, but he pressed on. "I love you, Vanya. You are the apple of my eye, the treasure of my soul. I feel for you what I have felt for no other dwarf." He was very sincere. "Ever since we met that fateful day in Spearbreakers and you kissed my cheek, you've held my love. I have faced many dangers in trying to find you, and willingly, for I knew in my heart you were still alive! And here you are, sweetest Vanya, loveliest of maidens. My quest is at an end." He paused for a moment, thinking, and looked regretful. "I am sorry you had to find out like this, but you did ask."
    I pursed my lips, and an awkward silence followed. I hated to hurt him, but he had to understand that I didn't feel the same way towards him. Honestly, had he just shown up a year earlier, after Urist had killed my sister, I might have done things with him I would've later regretted, wanting to fill that empty space he'd left behind... but now it was different. "Lord Reudh," I began carefully, watching his face, "I..."
    An abrupt scream pierced the air around us.
    "What was that?" I asked suddenly, changing the subject.
    Reudh frowned. "It is Lurit, a friend of mine, the lasher of our party. Two Holistic Spawn came upon us at sunset, and though we defeated them, Lurit lost his foot. The Spearbreakers doctors taught me much about medicine, and I cauterized the wound, but he is still in great pain."
    John's jaw dropped, his eyes widening. "You cauterized it??"
    The swordsman, Tedaz, nodded. "He did a fine job of it, too," he said respectfully.
    "Let me see him," I requested. "Maybe there's something I can do."
    I didn't really think I'd be able to help, but I hoped it would give me time to come up with something to say to Reudh.

    My companions followed Reudh to one of the tents. They were too short for the scythods to enter, and I told them so. They waited outside as the rest of us went in.
    Lurit, an overweight man with graying hair, lay on a cot in one of the tents. He looked... well, awful. His skin had a grayish pallor to it, and though unconscious, he was shivering and sweating.
    "Reudh, he doesn't look very well," I said worriedly. "It looks like he'll die if we don't get him some better medical attention." At Reudh's hurt expression, I added, "But you've done a good job so far."
    "Did you keep the foot?" John asked.
    The farmer, Strohe, snorted. "'Did you keep the foot,'" he repeated. "What good would that do?"
    "We buried it so the wolves wouldn't come," Tedaz explained, sheathing his sword.
    John sighed and facepalmed, shaking his head. "It's the dark ages all over again," he muttered under his breath. "I'd gotten used to civilization; I forgot about all this."
    "Can we move him?" I asked Reudh urgently. "We need to take him with us, and from the looks of it, we'll have to do it quickly."
    Reudh hesitated, but nodded. "I would be careful with moving him, but I would say it's possible, yes. Your pack animals ought to be able to carry him, I'd think. What are they, anyway?" At these words, some very offended chattering erupted from outside the tent.
    "Shh," I whispered. "They're not pack animals, they're 'scythods'. They're intelligent, and they understood everything you just said."
    "'Scythods?'" Strohe said loudly. "I ain't never heard of them. Where do they hail from?"
    I glanced meaningfully at John, questioning. "Might as well," he said, giving a noncommittal shrug. Reudh and his companions watched us curiously.
    "What is it?" Reudh asked innocently.
    I sighed. There was so much to explain, I hardly knew where to begin. "All right..." I started hesitantly, "First, you're going to need to ignore everything you think you know about science, and keep an open mind..."
    Teaching Urist and Hans about Ballpoint and Parasol had been a lot more fun.


    An hour later, John, K'bahth, Klade, Reudh, Strohe, Tedaz and I sat around their smoldering fire. Reudh sat across from me, and K'bahth and John sat by my side. Our party was on one side, Reudh's was on the other.
    "This is a lot to take in," Reudh sighed, shaking his head. "So... our 'mercenaries' were actually... Ballpoint's soldiers? Yes?"
    I nodded.
    "And they're a civilization that's not from this world, here about the Holistic Spawn."
    "That's right," I said. "They're fighting Parasol for control of the planet."
    "They call it 'The Timewar,'" John added.
    Strohe laughed. "My wife ain't ever gonna believe this. Heck, I ain't sure if I believe it."
    "Typical of a human," Klade muttered. K'bahth shushed him.
    Reudh leaned forward. "Vanya, none of this needs matter. Come back home to Spearbreakers with me! We can live a peaceful life together for the rest of our days."
    I swallowed uncomfortably. "Lord Reudh, I... I have... something I have to tell you..." He had to understand how I felt towards him, but all the same... I wished I didn't have to hurt him so.
    He listened, giving me a curious expression. An awkward tension filled the air so thickly you could almost breathe it.
    "Are we done here?" John suddenly asked, looking uncomfortable.
    "I think so," Tedaz said, giving my friend a knowing glance and getting to his feet. "Let's go take down the tents and get ready to move."

    Amidst mild chattering, everyone stood and walked away, leaving Reudh and me alone by the dying campfire. We, too, got to our feet, looking at each other uncomfortably for a time. He seemed to know what I was going to say, but that didn't make it any easier.
    I felt a gentle breeze in my hair; cold air on a northern wind. It was soothing, yet biting at the same time. It was... bittersweet.
    "I... I don't share the same feelings for you," I finally managed, frowning apologetically. "I'm sorry, really, I am, but..."
    He gave me a sad smile. "I understand, Vanya. I didn't come because you love me, I came because I love you." I could tell my words were knifing through his heart.
    "I'm sorry, Reudh," I said, trying to soften it. "Maybe someday, but right now, I'm still sore from... After everything with Urist and my sister, I just don't feel like being in a relationship. Not so soon."
    "I understand," Reudh said, suddenly digging through the pack that hung by his side. "But that reminds me, now that you speak of Urist. He gave me something he wanted me to give you, if I ever found you." Moments later, he withdrew a little package, holding it towards me. "Urist sends his regards," he said quietly with that same sad smile.
    I hesitated, my hand hovering over the brownish wrapping, and finally took it from the dwarf. "Thank you. I'll open it later," I said quietly, putting it into one of the pouches at my waist. "But Lord Reudh, we can't go towards Spearbreakers. It's far too dangerous; you've already seen it yourself. The Spawn... it's like their numbers keep multiplying."
    He nodded silently. Behind him, a pained scream erupted from Lurit's tent. Reudh looked over his shoulder at it for a moment, and then back to me. "We must get Lurit somewhere he can be taken care of, Vanya, be it Parasol or no."
    "What about Strohe and Tedaz?" I asked, glancing towards where they were packing up the tents.
    "Strohe can't stay from home too long. He has a wife to take care of. Tedaz... I believe he'll follow me wherever we go, though he's not as good a fighter. As for me, Vanya," he said cautiously, moving his hand towards my face. I reached forwards to stop him, but changed my mind, and he brushed several strands of hair from my eyes with a thoughtful expression. "As for me, Vanya," he continued slowly, "I will go with you, wherever you go." As an afterthought, he added, "So long as you will permit it, of course."
    "As a friend?" I asked.
    He gave a single, solemn nod. "As a friend."
    A grateful smile flicked at the corners of my mouth. "Thank you, Lord Reudh. And yes... you may come. I would be glad to have another friend with me."
    He flashed a smile at me as he dug something else out of his pack. "Just 'Reudh' is fine. And I have something for you as well, if you would but give me a moment." He finished searching, drawing out a crescent-shaped comb and holding it up. It caught the light of the morning sun, and its silver teeth glittered radiantly, sea-blue gems sparkling like wine. It took me a moment to realize he was actually giving it to me, and when it finally registered, it blew me away.
    "Oh, Reudh," I gasped, my eyes widening. "You can't give that to me; I can't take that!"
    He smiled, gazing thoughtfully at me. "I can, and I am, Vanya. For your hair... so it will always look as beautiful as the day we met."
    I blushed, struggling for words. "It's not that I can't take it, it's just... I... It's too beautiful for me."
    Reudh gave a chuckle and shook his head slightly. "On the contrary, I would say that its beauty pales in comparison to yours!"
    He held it out to me, but I only stared at it, agape. After a lifetime of never receiving anything I didn't work for, it was hard for me to accept a gift. "Reudh, I... It must have cost a fortune, I'd never be able to repay you for it!" The only other truly valuable thing I'd ever owned was my golden bracelet, and it'd only had a thin plating of gold.
    The dwarf laughed, shook his head, and placed it in my hand, closing my fingers around it. "I will hear no excuses, my dear," he said, beaming at my reaction. "I had it crafted just for you, and traveled hundreds of miles so I could lay it in your hands! It is a gift, not a loan, and that shine in your eyes is more than payment enough. I will accept nothing in return." He paused for a moment, quietly closing his pack, and then looked back at me. "I am fond of giving gifts, you know," he said, and with a smile, he left, going over to help Strohe pack up the provisions.
    My gaze traveled downwards to the palm of my hand as I uncurled my fingers, examining the silver comb. It was studded with sapphires arranged in the shape of three five-pointed stars. Questions filled my mind, and I lifted my head, opening my mouth to ask them, but found to my discomfort that Reudh was no longer in sight. Reluctantly, I looked back downwards, the breeze gently ruffling my hair, and I wondered how he'd known my symbol.

~~~

    When everything was packed, we set off for the east. The men carried Lurit, the wounded lasher, on a makeshift stretcher. It took all four of them to lift him and keep him steady. Meanwhile, the scythods and I carried the tents and provisions. I'd wanted to leave the tents, as they were easy to see from a distance, but Reudh wouldn't hear of it. I told him I would only sleep outside anyway: there was no way I'd bunk with anyone else. He countered by saying he was planning on giving up his for my sake. It was kind of him, but I still didn't like the idea.
    On occasion, Lurit would let out a scream of pain and fall unconscious again. There wasn't any way to keep him quiet, and I hated that... If there were more Holistic Spawn lurking about, they'd be sure to find us. With how slow our progress was, I knew there was no chance of us escaping them. But as the day wore on, Lurit awoke less and less, as he steadily grew paler. His leg looked horrible, with purple veins stretching out ever farther from the cauterized stump of his leg.
    Around noon, K'bahth approached me. "Spala, do you hear it?" he asked.
    I listened. "No," I answered cautiously, "hear what?"
    "Gunfire," he replied promptly, clicking his claws.
    "I hear it as well," Klade offered. "Alaf, do you not hear it? It comes from the east."
    "I'm sure I'll hear it soon," I sighed, wishing my hearing was as good as theirs.

    As we continued, the sound gradually became clearer, until even John and the others heard it.
    "Yep, it's gunfire," John said, shielding his eyes from the sun with a hand as he held a corner of Lurit's stretcher with the other. "Sounds like a railcannon to me, but I can't tell how far away, or who it belongs to."
    "What's a railcannon?" Tedaz asked, worrying with his corner of the load.
    John had trouble describing it. "When a dragon and a ballista get together and have a kid, that's a railcannon. ...Sort of." He offered a joking grin, as if it explained everything better.
    "Seriously?" Tedaz asked, his eyebrows raised.
    I shook my head, almost laughing at John’s analogy. "A railcannon fires a big piece of metal at incredibly high speeds... fast enough to set the air on fire just from the friction." It wasn't completely accurate, but it gave them a good idea of what we were hearing, or so I hoped. "It's a weapon," I added.
    "An' we're going towards it??" Strohe asked incredulously. "Are you batshit crazy, girl?"
    "Amazing," Klade hissed snidely, "A human with common sense. Alaf, you could learn a lesson from him."
    I clicked my teeth at him. "Quiet, Klade. You're not helping." It didn't matter to me whether or not Reudh and the others could understand him. I could understand him, and I didn't want to listen to his sarcastic commentary all the way to the Parasol base.

    Finally, as the sun dropped behind the western horizon, we reached the bed of a little clear-water creek that wound its way between the hills, and came to a halt.
    "I think we're getting near," I said quietly. The intermittent sound of the railcannons echoed loudly all around us.
    "From the echoes, I would say they are just beyond that next hilltop," K'bahth said, listening carefully. "However, I only hear one railcannon, and its shots seem to be missing its target."
    "What?" I asked, looking at him. "Why would -"
    "It's cover fire," John answered my unfinished question, motioning to the others to set Lurit on the ground. "That means they're on watch."
    Reudh shook his head resignedly. "It is so strange to think that there have been people from other worlds living so close to home, and yet, we never knew!"
    "It's part of interdimensional law," John explained distractedly as he scanned the horizon. "Time travel, time-space manipulation, and alerting the natives are strictly forbidden. Parasol broke the second by putting Syrupleaf in stasis, but it saved this universe. Armok would have destroyed it otherwise. Since we can't alert the natives - that means you, Reudh," he added, turning towards the dwarf, "using air vehicles is forbidden."
    "Are you part of Parasol?" Tedaz guessed.
    John's response was dismissive of the subject. "Nah, I used to work for Ballpoint. But really, what are we going to do? If they're on a military-level alert, we won't be able to approach without them opening fire."
    "We could tunnel to them," K'bahth suggested, and then lowered his mouth to the stream to drink.
    I shook my head. "That wouldn't work," I argued, frowning. "They would assume we're trying to kill them, and even if we told them otherwise, they'd kill us. And if they see John in his uniform, they'll assume we're Ballpoint."
    "You're wearing a Ballpoint uniform, too," John pointed out.
    "It's just gray. Mr Frog made it," I replied, puzzling over the situation. Reudh seemed surprised when I mentioned Mr Frog, though. "But you're right..." I continued, "What we need to do is send someone over there alone to let them know we're on their side... if it's just one person, they won't feel threatened, and one person by themselves would be the least noticeable." I stopped for a second, nervously pondering my decision. "I'll go," I said finally, biting my lip.
    "I will not hear of it!" Reudh burst out, walking forwards. "I'll go before we send you. I volunteer myself."
    "I'll go," Tedaz piped up, followed by Strohe.
    "None of you have any experience with the timewar," Klade clicked dryly. "And K'bahth and I would be too conspicuous." John translated what he'd said for the others.
    "I'm the only one who can go," I told them quietly. "I used to be a skulker; I know how to stay hidden."
    Reudh seemed surprised. "A skulker?"
    His reaction made me laugh. "I still would be, if it hadn't been for Mr Frog," I added.
    "She has a point, though," John said grimly, folding his arms. "She has to be the one to go."
    Grimacing, Reudh said, "Fine. But Vanya..." He came over to me and looked into my eyes. For a moment, he seemed torn between whether or not he should give me an embrace, but finally decided against it. "Stay safe. Please?"
    I nodded silently, but my thoughts were elsewhere as I set off for the base of the next hill, following the little creek.

☆

[Talvieno]

Chapter 36: Infiltration
    "So, time travel is illegal," you muse aloud, watching for the woman's reaction.
    She glares at you warningly. "I said drop it."
    Unfortunately, being an archaeologist, you could never resist unraveling a good mystery, and the woman across from you certainly presents you with one. You make up your mind to figure out who she is, no matter what it takes. For now, however, you are content with reading the next entry in Vanya's journal. And so you begin.

    When Reudh asked me to keep myself safe, my thoughts were elsewhere.
    Who was I? I'd mentioned my skulker background, but volunteering for a dangerous mission was so far removed from what I'd used to be. Who had I become? And why had I changed? I knew I wasn't the same person I used to be, but... why? Somehow, I missed the old me: the girl who used to be afraid of everything; the girl who saw magic everywhere she looked; the girl who felt that all the world was beautiful.
    The girl who always ran.
    Maybe, I thought, maybe sometimes, change can be a good thing.
    But in my heart, I knew why I'd become a different person, though I couldn't stand to think about it. It was because I'd lost Urist, and more importantly, because I'd lost my sister. There was no sunshine with her gone, only an emptiness devoid of shadows. If I died, what did it matter? What did I have to live for anymore?
    I found the direction of my thoughts disturbing, and swallowed nervously, trying to put it behind me as I set off for the base of the next hill, following the little creek.

    We were in the foothills of the Amber Barb mountain range, but the blood plains still stretched into the distance as far as I could see. My bloodstained armor would be a good camouflage, I knew, but I needed to do something with my hair and face, in case I was caught. If my experience with Ballpoint was anything to judge by, interdimensional soldiers have a certain fondness for well-groomed elven women, and I could use that to my advantage. It had been a while since I'd bathed, and I hated that, but I consoled myself with the knowledge that elves don't have nearly as bad a problem with body odor as dwarves.
    After I was out of sight of the others, I knelt by the brook beneath a tangled tree and began splashing water on my face and hair. It was clear, clear enough that I could see little water-worn pebbles embedded in the bottom. The swath of clear earth stood out in stark contrast to the bloodstained terrain around it, and seemed almost inviting.
    It took me at least a good ten minutes before I was satisfied, but I finally decided my hair was clean. Sitting up, I got Reudh's comb out of my pouch and started brushing my hair with it. For all its beauty, it did the job just as well as a copper one would have, but I was thankful I had it.

    After I'd finished, I put the comb away, put on Jack Magnus's cap, and took a deep breath before starting forth once more. I felt cleaner, fresher, and more confident, but I was very worried about my safety. Several times a minute, the railcannon's crashes echoed around me, followed by a loud, distant thud. I knew I was in danger just by being anywhere nearby.
    Creeping forward along the ground, I was careful to take advantage of any bramble bushes or trees nearby, moving slowly and staying in the shadows. I thought back to my skulker days, remembering how to stay "invisible", and I think I did well, for being out of practice.
    There was a ledge of rock in front of me, and I crept forwards towards it cautiously, staying low. When I reached it and peeked over the edge, I was greeted with an otherworldly sight.

    Before me was a deep trench that seemed to split the earth in two, at least 300 feet long, fifteen feet across, and at least two stories deep. I could see right down the middle, though the deeper area was heavily shadowed. There seemed to be doorways and walkways in the sides of the trench, but it was hard to tell in the twilight.
    As I looked everything over, I came up with a plan: I would sneak into their camp and talk to them, before they saw me. If they saw me first, they'd probably shoot me. I would have to be careful.
    A sudden explosion broke my thoughts, drawing my eyes to its source: a single turret, its long barrel poking out above the far side of the trench. It was the railcannon, and even from where I lay, I could make out the red and white Parasol logo emblazoned on its side. Suddenly, it fired again, seeming to rock backwards with the recoil. At the same time, the hilltop far too my left erupted with a plume of earth, at the base of a huge, upright ring of metal. My eyes slowly traced the railcannon's path back to the trench, down along the valley, which was covered in debris: destroyed tanks, smoking mechsuits... it was a war zone, but no one seemed to be fighting. Really, apart from a few people in the Parasol trench, the entire area seemed completely devoid of life.
    Another blast at my left drew my attention again, the spray of dirt reaching only halfway to the top of the 30-foot metal ring. Though I knew what it was, I had no idea how it was here. It was a megaportal... the largest I'd ever heard of. It didn't seem to be turned on, but as I looked closer, I could see several people in Ballpoint uniforms milling around its base. The Parasol cannoneer seemed to be loath to hit it, carefully aiming his shots around its base.

    A single shot from that railcannon would utterly destroy me, and I knew it. With this in mind, I crawled cautiously over the rocky ledge and began to slink downwards. Slowly, quietly, I inched my way forwards. From where I was, all the way to the trench, there wasn't any cover to be had; not a bush, not a tree, only small craters and fallen rocks that made my journey all the more difficult.
    Suddenly, I hit my head against something... hard. I backed up, gingerly rubbing the sore spot and trying to stay quiet. After a few minutes, I looked upwards, and was astonished to find that there didn't seem to be anything there. After waving my hand around in front of me a bit, I found that while I could definitely feel something there, I couldn't see it. It was as if there was some giant, invisible barrier blocking my path.
    Mindful of where I was, I looked back down at the trench, and found my point of view was too low to see the bottom, or even anyone inside. This emboldened me slightly, and I got carefully to my knees, feeling along the invisible surface, slowly working my way higher and higher with my hands. Whatever I was touching didn't seem to end anywhere near.
    "What is this?" I whispered, bashing my fist against the wall, which is what it felt like: nothing happened, besides my hand starting to hurt.
    I soon found that I couldn't move forwards even when I put my whole weight against it, which was eerie: it really didn't look like there was anything there. On a whim, I looked upwards, and that action sucked away any hope I'd had: there was a giant, shimmering dome above the Parasol trench. From so close, I couldn't see it, but the farther away I looked, the more obvious it became.
    The trench was shielded. There was no way I was getting in.
    At least, so I thought.

    With a whoosh, the bubble disappeared, and without the shield to support me, I tumbled forwards onto the ground. Recovering, I leapt to my feet, only to knock my head solidly against the shield. It hurt, and I had to fight to stay quiet. As I bit my lip, gently massaging the second bump on my scalp, I felt around... and discovered to my dismay that the bubble had closed behind me. I was trapped.
    I laid myself flat against the ground as quietly as I could and began crawling forwards, hoping nobody had seen me. My plan might still work.

    A feminine voice knifed through the air. "Stand up and put your hands on your head!" I jumped, startled, and the voice rang out again. "Do it now!"
    As I got to my feet, my heart sinking in my chest, I looked around for the source. My eyes quickly came to rest on a human woman standing less than two hundred feet from me, holding a pistol in her hands. I had no idea how she managed to get so far from the trench without my noticing, but I did as she asked, putting my hands up on my head. It was hard to see where she was in the dark... it was almost as if she was cloaked in shadows.
    "I'm not here to hurt you!" I shouted, praying that she wouldn't shoot. "I work for Parasol!"
    She ignored what I'd said. "Don't move!" she yelled. There was something about her voice that seemed familiar... almost as if I felt a certain kinship with her, and unless I was imagining things, it sounded like she was as scared as I was.
    As she began walking forwards, keeping her weapon trained on me, I took a closer look at her. She was wearing a Parasol uniform: white with black stripes and sky-blue detailing, fitting closely to her slender form. She didn't really look that threatening, and seemed to be about sixteen or seventeen... It made me wonder why she was a soldier at all. Oddly, she was only a few inches taller than me... and that's short, for a human.
    I started taking a few steps forward, myself, closing the distance. "I don't have any guns! I'm just -"
    "Stay where you are!" she yelled, adjusting her two-handed grip. She actually seemed frightened... yet somehow excited at the same time. "I'll shoot you!"
    I stopped and remained still as she picked her way around little craters and rocks, closing the gap to about ten feet. Then, she stopped, and after brushing her long, wavy brown hair out of her eyes, she put her right hand to her side and unfastened a PEA from her hip. "You don't look like Parasol... Hold still," she ordered, trying unsuccessfully to one-handedly tap on its screen. Finally, she gave up. "I'm going to lower my weapon," she said, watching me with fearful, cautious eyes. "Don't move, got it?" Her eyes seemed to stand out, being such a bright blue.
    "All right," I said softly, watching her. From so close, she hardly seemed threatening at all, even with a weapon. She seemed too pretty to be a killer, if that makes any sense. Maybe it was her eyeliner, or the glitter on her fingernails.
    "I mean it! Don't move!"
    "I won't move," I promised.
    With an uneasy glance, she shifted her weapon in her hand so that she could hold the PEA, too, and started tapping at the screen, holding it slightly towards my face. After a moment, her eyebrows furrowed, and she looked almost as if she'd seen a ghost. It was as if she couldn't believe what she was reading. "Vanya Carena..." she whispered.
    "You've heard of me?"
    She snapped out of it. "No! No, not at all! I just... It..." she looked aside for a moment. "Hello."
    "Hi," I replied, trying not to smile.
    "I'm Katie Okablokum." She holstered her weapon, stepping forwards and offering her hand. "My PEA says you're telling the truth. I just can't believe there's anybody else from Parasol out here, that's all," she explained nervously.
    I shook her hand. "It's nice to meet you," I said, relaxing my tense muscles. "I wouldn't be here, but for a series of unusual events..."

    "Katie!" someone yelled. Katie jumped visibly, startled by the shout. I leaned to the right to look around her, and saw a dwarf slowly walking towards us, about a hundred feet away. I raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. I hadn't expected anyone working for Parasol to have such long hair, or to be wearing such casual clothes - jeans and a long-sleeved, plaid shirt. The jeans alone seemed otherworldly... it was the first time I'd seen any, aside from on Mr Frog's computer, and they looked very strange on a dwarf...
    Katie turned around and started walking towards him, motioning for me to follow. "It's okay, Jonah," she called. "She works for Parasol, too."
    "Katie, you shouldn't have closed the gap," Jonah chided, in an almost fatherly way. "Your pistol is a ranged weapon. She could've knocked it out of your hands or pushed it aside."
    "She said she worked for Parasol. I had to scan her," Katie replied defensively, passing him. I stopped and stood still, watching the scene unfold.
    Jonah crossed his arms, smiling humorously at my new acquantance. "And what if she'd been lying to bring you closer?" he asked pointedly. "I said I'd be along in a moment, and Saemin's on his way, too. You wanted action, and I was going to give you some, but you need to be more careful. You should've waited until we were here to back you up."
    I spoke up. "Who's Saemin? Is he in charge here?"
    "Ha! No," Jonah laughed, sparing me a glance. "Not remotely, unless you mean in charge of Katie, to which I'd say, 'maybe'."
    Katie spun around, seemingly hurt by Jonah's amusement. "He's a friend of mine, Vanya," she said hotly.
    "Really, now? Do you regularly french kiss all your friends, Katie?"
    Color rose to her cheeks. "That's private!"
    A loud, deep yell interrupted them. "Katie, you okay?" A young man was climbing up out of the trench. His tanned arms and legs were heavily muscled, to the point that he reminded me of Hans. "I heard yelling. Sorry I'm kinda late."
    "Saemin, everything's fine," Jonah called to him. "It's just a girl from Parasol." He paused, and tilting his head, he turned to me and asked, "What are you doing out here, anyway?"
    Behind him, Katie giggled loudly as Saemin picked her up. With an effort, I pulled my eyes away from them and answered, "I heard there was a Parasol encampment around here, and my friends and I are seeking shelter. I'm wanting to teleport back to Spearbreakers, as are a couple other friends of mine." There was something about Jonah that seemed sad, but I couldn't put my finger on it.
    He chuckled sadly. "Parasol encampment? Hardly. There are only a few of us left. I've got some things to say about Spearbreakers, though, and in particular, to that Count Splint fellow. Thanks to him, Ballpoint has practically overrun the continent. Still... Spearbreakers is pretty far away from here, isn't it, miss...?"
    "Vanya Carena," I answered his prompting. "I'm from Spearbreakers, but I've been traveling for a while. Do you have a portal we could use?"
    Jonah shifted his weight, taking an older-model PEA from his pocket and tapping at its screen. "Sure, we do. See up there on that hill?" He flicked a thumb towards the hilltop to my left, towards the huge megaportal I'd noticed earlier. "That beautiful portal up there is ours, property of the Umbrella, put here over two hundred years ago. Sadly, Ballpoint's captured it, curse their souls, and it's the only one in the region. If they figure out how to operate it, they'll pour their best troops through and wipe us out. Our shield is tough as hell, but it won't stand up to that kind of assault. And guess what?" He gave me a sardonic smile. "They captured it three months ago. I'd expect them to figure it out any day now."
    "What??"
    "You heard right. Who's with you, anyway? You said you had friends?"
    I hesitated, and began counting them off on my fingers. "Two scythods, three humans, and a dwarf."
    "Scythods?" He looked at me suspiciously, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't Ballpoint domesticate those?"
    I felt a little offended. "Nobody domesticated them - they're as intelligent as we are. Oh, and we also have an injured human who needs immediate medical attention," I added, remembering Lurit.
    Jonah didn't respond; he just kept tapping at his PEA. Finally, he stopped, holding it out and peering at it as if he was nearsighted. Grumbling, he took a pair of glasses from his shirt pocket and slipped them on. "Here you are," he mumbled, and then, louder, "Vanya Carena. Yep, you check out all right. Says you're 'guaranteed trustworthy' by some Dr. Sankis fellow. Draconik... Never heard of him." He slipped the PEA into his pocket and lifted his chin. "Not in my department," he said proudly. "I used to be a theoretical physicist, before all this mess. My wife and I were..." he trailed off.
    There was a silence between us for a moment, and he turned back towards the trench. "Saemin! Get Trebor out here, she's got wounded!" Saying this, he turned to me. "We'll reminisce some other time, miss." And he walked away, shoulders slumped, scratching the bridge of his nose.
   
    "Trebor" was a skinny young dwarf sporting a shock of rumpled, black hair. He was dressed in loose-fitting Parasol medical scrubs, and was hauling a matching medical chest. He looked a few years older than me, but it couldn't have been by much.
    "I'm Trebor," he grinned, shaking my hand firmly. "And you are?"
    "Vanya," I replied, taken a bit off guard. "It's nice to meet you."
    "And it's a pleasure to meet you!" he replied smoothly. "Largely because you got me out of latrine duty. I owe you a debt of gratitude. Would you like it in cash or checks?" Beside him, Saemin laughed at his jest. "Anyway, Vanya... Eh, I don't know if that name suits you. Mind if I call you 'Hotlips'?"
    I grimaced, my stomach turning. "Please don't." The thought occurred to me that maybe cleaning myself up hadn't been the best idea I'd ever had. "Let's just go, please?"
    "Certainly, my lady, to the ball it is!" he crooned. "Unfortunately, I spent so much on gratitude that our horse-drawn carraige is one beast short, so I'm afraid you'll have to lead."
    His sense of humor switched around so often, it almost made me dizzy. "They're straight ahead. Lurit is in bad shape, so we'll have to hurry," I said, starting to walk in the direction of my friends, though impeded by the gathering darkness. "Did you bring a light?"
    His response was prompt. "I really don't think now is an appropriate time to be smoking, Hotlips. Lurit is in bad shape! He's more trapezoid than square!" I glared at him, and he seemed to soften. "Easy, girl! Only joking around. Saemin, get the lamp out, but don't start it up yet."
    Saemin pulled a long glass cylinder from behind his back and fiddled with the end of it. Slowly, it began glowing with a bright, white light that illuminated a huge area around us.
    "I said don't start it up!" Trebor hissed in a whisper. "Armok's beard, it's like talking to a human."
    "I am a human," Saemin replied, chuckling, and flipped it back off.
    Trebor nodded dismissively. "We'll wait until we're out of the camp until we start it up," he explained, glancing at me. "If those Ballpoint soldiers see it, they'll start shooting."
    I nodded. "How will we get through the shield?"
    "Not the same way you did, that's for sure. It opens briefly for every railgun shot; that's why we fire it at random intervals. You're lucky it didn't slice you in two: you would've had to put up with me while I sewed you back together." The dwarf grinned at his own joke, and then grew more serious. "We're actually already through the shield: the Captain opened it for us to pass. Anyway, what's the issue with your Lurit friend?"
    "A Holistic Spawn clawed his leg off," I explained, stepping over the little brook as we reached it.
    "Whoa, wait a minute there, Hotlips," Trebor said, grabbing my arm. "Are you completely sure it was clawed, and not bitten?"
    I pulled my arm away from him crossly. "What does it matter? Only dwarves turn, and Lurit is human."
    "That's the way it used to be, my uninformed friend," Trebor said, motioning for Saemin to turn the lamp back on. "Ballpoint gave them the ability to adapt, and I'll have you know that the newer ones are capable of changing just about anything that's sentient or commonly domesticated!"
    Saemin fumbled with the lamp, and finally got it to start up. It cast an eerie white glow around us, and I couldn't imagine what Reudh and the others would think when they saw it. I turned to Trebor, who was ahead of me now. "I'm pretty sure it was clawed and not bitten."
    "Pretty is what you are," he retorted. "I want guarantees. What have you done with the wound? And did you keep the foot?"
    "No, they buried it before we found them and cauterized the wound."
    Trebor choked. "They cauterized it?! Armok's beard. I'd say it's the dark ages, but the people around here are wearing a little too much clothing for that to be true," he said, shooting me a glance.
    I found myself sorely tempted to take my cap off, hoping that seeing I was an elf would get him to quit making such perverted remarks, but I didn't. Instead, I only led the way in silence, determined to ignore it.
    Even Klade had been easier company.

☆

[Talvieno]

Chapter 37: Parasol Camp
This is a hard-bound journal. On the item is the logo of Parasol Industries: a red and white umbrella. The logo is standard. The image relates to the Founding of Parasol Industries in another universe on an unknown date. On the item is a star in imitation gold leaf. The star is five-pointed. The image relates to the birth of Everoc's Vanya Carena in the year 188 PS.

    Saemin, Trebor and I rounded the last bend and found ourselves face to face with my friends, squinting at the light Saemin was shining in their eyes. They had their weapons readied: Reudh had a pike, Tedaz had a longsword, and Strohe had his knife. John stood in the back, holding a wicked-looking whip, and the scythods stood on either side of them, legs tensed.
    Without a warning, Klade sprung forwards, his scythes poised to swing.
    "Stop!" I cried out, ducking and shielding my head. "It's only me!" Klade landed at my feet and stepped backwards, unsure. The others started lowering their weapons.
    "Hold up, what's going on here?" a wide-eyed Trebor asked. He jumped behind Saemin, who pulled a pistol from his side. "You brought us into a trap, Hotlips?"
    At the sight of the gun, John readied Lurit's whip again and started to edge forward. "Don't even think about firing!" he warned. "These scythods can move faster than you can blink, and you're outnumbered five to one!" He glanced over at me, scowling. "Damnit, Vanya, if they captured you, why'd you bring them here??"
    "Let her go free, I command you!" Reudh ordered, stepping forwards in an attack stance. "If you don't, you will be dealing with me!"
    "Back off!" Saemin boomed, leveling his weapon. "I'll shoot!"
    I leapt to my feet, raising my hands towards both parties. "Stop!" I yelled, looking at one, and then the other. "Please, just stop! Nobody captured me! They're friends! There's no reason to fight!"
    "There is always a reason to fight, if you look hard enough," Klade growled, sniffing towards the Parasol soldiers with a foreleg.
    Trebor peeked out from behind Saemin. "I'm a doctor, if that eases your mind; I don't fix battles, only wounds," he offered helpfully.
    The tension gradually dissipated, and I breathed a sigh of relief, hanging my head. "Thank you," I whispered in prayer, and looked towards Reudh. "Lord Reudh, where is Lurit?"
    "Over here, Vanya," he replied, pointing into the darkness behind him with his pike.
    Trebor walked forwards at a brisk pace, motioning to Saemin to bring the light. When we reached the old man's stretcher, Trebor knelt beside him and opened his medical chest, folding out all the little trays inside the lid. Then, carefully, he pulled away the strips of cloth Reudh had wrapped around Lurit's stump.
    "Armok's beard," he whispered. "It's no wonder he's unconscious." Hurriedly, he pulled out a few syringes, and, after swabbing an area on Lurit's arm, administered the drugs. He followed this up by taking out a little vial and spraying something on the purplish, reddened skin.
    Lurit awoke at once, howling in pain. "Gods, what have you done?!" he yelled, trying to scoot away from everyone. The scythods hissed at the noise, scurrying away.
    "Hold him!" Trebor yelled. Reudh and Tedaz rushed forwards to assist. After the struggling, screaming man was secure, Trebor snatched another syringe from his container and slammed it into Lurit's calf. Lurit's eyes widened, his mouth agape, and then, slowly, he collapsed back onto the ground, unconscious.
    "What happened?" Reudh asked.
    Trebor shook his head in shock. "I have no idea," he muttered, furrowing his brow. "That shouldn't have happened at all. It was just an antiseptic..." Turning and looking towards his friend, he caught sight of Strohe, who was staring raptly at the tubular light in Saemin's hands.
    "You like the light, do you?" Saemin asked quietly.
    Strohe looked up and nodded vigorously. "It ain't like anything I ever seen before. Heck if I know how it works."
    Chuckling, Saemin glanced back at Trebor.
    "We have plenty more where that came from," the doctor muttered, shaking his head and turning back to Lurit. "He's still oozing blood, and I forgot my coagulants again..."
    "We needa get back anyway," Saemin prodded. "Ballpoint woulda heard his screaming, and they'll be coming for us."
    Trebor continued staring at Lurit in confusion for a moment, and then gradually collected his thoughts. "Right," he said, nodding and starting to close up his medkit. "Saemin, you take him. The rest of you... Gather up whatever you're taking with you, and be quick."
    With a crooked smile, Saemin handed his light tube to Strohe, who took it with a childlike expression of awe. "Hold that for me," he chuckled. Walking over to Lurit's limp form, he bent down and scooped him up in his arms as easily as if he was a sack of plump helmets. Though Reudh and Tedaz gaped at the man's strength, John crossed his arms, unimpressed. As for Strohe, he was too absorbed in the light he was holding to even notice.
    Trebor nodded with approval, and then glanced around, looking everyone else over. We all stood silently, waiting for direction. "Okay... let's go," he finally said, taking the light from Strohe. "I'll need a hand free if I'm going to work this light, so... Hotlips?"
    I glared at him.
    "Carry my luggage, if you would be so kind," he smiled, holding his medical kit out to me. "I'll tip you when we get to the room."
    Everyone was staring, waiting to see what I would do, and it embarrassed me. I gave up and just took it from him, not wanting to start a fight, and found it wasn't very heavy at all. Everybody else seemed to relax a little, and we started back towards the trench.
    "Make as little noise as possible," Trebor warned in a whisper, jogging ahead of us with the light. "If Ballpoint figures out we're out here, they'll be on us in a second. Hawkins is watching, but Ballpoint may still get off a few shots."
    "Hawkins?" Reudh asked, shifting his bundles on his shoulders.
    "Our gunner," Saemin said over his shoulder, panting from the weight he was carrying.
    "Okay," Trebor whispered, "Hide under the covers, guys – I'm shutting off the light." With that, he flicked the switch at the end, and the glowing tube quickly faded to black.
    "I can't see a darned thing!" Strohe growled, tripping over a rock.
    Trebor snorted. "Don't stare at the light next time," he said, rounding the next corner. "Okay, everyone, stay –" he stopped abruptly, staring at the megaportal's hill.
    I bumped into him, unable to slow down fast enough, and someone else bumped into me from behind, poking me in the back with something sharp. "Ouch!" I hissed.
    "Run," Trebor ordered, pulling away and starting to do so himself.
    I started jogging forwards, peering at the hill, and soon saw why the doctor was worried: several tanks were swiveling their turrets in our direction. Tanks. They're like big, armored machines, and they can roll faster than horses... Their guns can destroy almost anything. Glancing behind me, I saw that everyone else was straggling behind, confused. "Do what he said!" I hissed loudly.
    The hillside exploded above us, showering pebbles and dirt on our heads. Reudh screamed.
    "Run!" I yelled, putting on a burst of speed to catch up with Trebor.
    Behind me, everyone got the message this time, rushing forwards as quickly as they could. K'bahth easily caught up with me. "There are three vehicles on the northern hills," he clicked.
    "I know," I answered between breaths. A boulder behind us exploded violently, scattering dust and shards of stone against my head.
    We heard a familiar crash as Parasol's railgun fired a round; off in the distance, a billowing fireball lit up the night sky.
    "Keep up!" Trebor shouted, leaping down the ridge I'd hid behind less than an hour before. Saemin soon followed, carefully picking his way down the slope. A shell exploded twenty feet to his left. "Don't worry," Trebor called jokingly, "We're safe as long as they keep aiming at us. Looks like they expected armored soldiers."
    Everything brightened suddenly; the moon came out from behind the clouds. Although it was just a crescent, it was enough for us to see by... and enough for Ballpoint to see by, too. As John and the others ran down the Parasol side of the ridge, K'bahth shouted: "Missile! Stop!"
    I spun around. In an instant, John had already translated what K'bahth had said, and Reudh and the others stopped abruptly, just in time. The ground between us exploded in a fireball.
    "Move!" John shouted again. I turned and kept moving forwards, sprinting to catch up with Trebor. An artillery shell exploded in front of me, tossing up a plume of earth, and I heard another blast coming from behind.
    "Strohe!" Reudh yelled, running back for his companion.
    "I'm all right, your lordship!" Strohe said, standing shakily as Reudh helped him up. "Just got knocked off my feet, is all."
    "Hurry!" I shouted, praying we'd all make it alive. I was sure I was inside the shield's radius by now, but the others were still fifty feet away.
    K'bahth gave another warning: "Missile!"
    John started to translate, but I yelled over him. "Ignore it! Run!! Sprint!!"
    The men put on a final burst of speed. As they reached me and slowed to a halt, we heard a hissing in the distance, followed by a hum; the missile exploded inaudibly against the bubble shield, which rippled with a silvery shimmer that soon faded away. Far away on the hill, there was another explosion, and a cloud of fire and smoke billowed into the air. I nearly collapsed with relief.

    "Yes!! Haha, you made it!" someone exclaimed loudly, laughing. I turned and saw Katie a couple hundred feet away, running towards us from the trench. Between her palms, she held a glowing sphere of blue-white light. "The Captain does a great job with the energy shield, doesn't she?"
    Nobody else seemed nearly as energetic or jubilant, only shuffling forwards towards the trench as lights began to appear within it, illuminating its length.
    "Hotlips!" Trebor called from up ahead. "Bring that medical kit and follow me! The rest of you, stay put and wait for Jonah – he'll be up here soon."
    Katie looked first at Trebor, and then at me, raising an eyebrow. Then, she clapped, and as if by magic, the glowing sphere between her palms completely disappeared, and she jogged forwards, slowing and turning, matching her pace with mine. "Hotlips?" she asked in a whisper. "Really?"
    I glanced over at her and hesitated. Something about her seemed vaguely... unusual. Brushing the feeling aside, I frowned and nodded. "I asked him to stop, but he wouldn't."
    She laughed. "He calls me 'Snowflake'."
    "I'd rather have 'Snowflake' than 'Hotlips'," I said, managing a weak smile.
    We reached the trench, and I looked around. Trebor was already at the bottom, thirty feet below, but Saemin was making his way carefully down a series of stairs carved into the dirt walls.
    "Hurry up, Hotlips!" Trebor called out. "Don't take the ladder – I don't want anything happening to that chest!"
    I started down the stairs, following Saemin.
    A heavily armored blonde-haired dwarf emerged from a doorway next to the doctor, her arms crossed. "Why 'Hotlips'?" she queried, unamused.
    "No reason, sis," Trebor replied, fighting a smile. "It just seemed like it suited her."
    "Hmph," the woman grunted, and craned her neck upwards to look at me as I descended another flight of stairs. "Soldier, get your friend situated, and then come to my office. Trebor, you too." This said, she left, going back through the doorway. Trebor left as well, motioning for Saemin to follow him down the trench.
    "I'm not a soldier," I muttered, furrowing my brow.
    On my left, Katie nodded. "I didn't think you were a killer. You don't even seem like the type that would wield a gun. Even so, the captain will probably call you 'soldier' until she gets to know you."
    I glanced over at her thoughtfully as we reached the base of the trench, going in and out of shadow as we passed the lights affixed to the walls. "You're very perceptive for a human..." An idea struck me. "You're not all human, are you..."
    She laughed in delight, and with a finger, she pulled back her long, wavy hair, revealing her right ear. It had a blunted point to it. "I'm part elf, part dwarf, and part human," she said, before putting her hair back. "And you're very perceptive, too, for a dwarf."
    It startled me, and I looked over at her quickly. She gave me an impish smile and playfully snatched Jack Magnus's cap from my head. I grabbed at it reflexively, trying to keep it on, but she was too quick. "Stop it!" I hissed.
    "You're not all dwarf..." she whispered with a smile, giving a meaningful nod at my ear before carefully placing the cap back on my head and straightening it. "I knew it! You're part elf, too."
    "I'm all elf," I countered, readjusting the hat.
    She gave me another impish grin. "How do you know?" she whispered, dancing away. Then, louder, "I'll see you at supper, okay?"
    "Okay," I answered hesitantly, watching her disappear through a doorway behind me.
    I'd never encountered someone from multiple species before... I hadn't thought it was even possible. Confused, I followed Saemin down the trench, trying to put it out of my mind.
    Before long, I Saemin led me through a crude doorway and into a well-lit room: the infirmary. Taking a good look around, I found it was the first place there that appeared otherworldly: the walls, floor and ceiling were covered with metal panels, and four beds were backed up against one wall, covered in long sheets of paper. Next to each were a number of monitors, most of them turned off. Trebor stood behind the nearest bed, holding his blue-gloved hands in the air, a sky-blue cloth cap over his hair. Though it had been too dark to notice before, I found that his beard was clean-shaven.
    "Right over here, Saemin," Trebor said, smiling, "I'm all dressed up with nowhere to sew."
    Carefully, Saemin set the unconscious Lurit down on the bed and left the room. I set the medical kit down on one of the other beds, looking at Lurit worriedly. "Will he be all right?" I asked.
    Trebor was already moving quickly, hooking Lurit up to the monitors, which lit up, displaying numbers and graphs, many of which fluxed with Lurit's heartbeat. "Don't worry about a thing," he assured me. "I've never lost a patient. Matter of fact, I never lose anything."
    I nodded cautiously and swallowed.
    "Have you seen my stethoscope?" he asked suddenly. I wasn't sure if he was joking, but he answered before I had a chance to ask. "Kidding, kidding."
    "Are you really the only doctor here?" I asked, awkwardly watching him rush between Lurit and the cabinets at the edges of the room.
    He glanced up for a moment as he filled a syringe with a bluish liquid. "There were others, but I'm the only one left. You might try Jonah, though – Ballpoint's mistaken him for a battlefield medic several times, I guess because he's the mild-mannered type."
    "It was once," someone said from the doorway. I spun around and saw Jonah standing there, a smile edging at his lips. "Instead of telling tall tales about me, Super Mouth, why don't you try leaping off a tall building in a single bound?"
    "Can't help it, Jonah," Trebor grinned, injecting the liquid into Lurit's arm. "My stories are more powerful than a locomotive."
    "And with great power comes great conversation, I know," Jonah replied, shaking his head with a smile. He started to leave the room, looking over his shoulder at me as he did. "Vanya, come. The Captain has been waiting for you. And Trebor, you come, too, once you're done here."
    I didn't hesitate, following him out of the infirmary. He was silent the whole way there.

    "You're an elf."
    I was standing across from "The Captain" in a little room near the surface. Jonah was standing to the side. The Captain's "office" wasn't much more than a little room with wooden boards holding up the walls, a few chairs, and a desk at one end. The thing that stood out the most was the table that stood between the captain and me: there was a rough clay model sitting in the middle of it. It had little needles stuck here and there in its surface, and a wire ring standing upright on a little hill in the center. It didn't take me long to figure out that it was a crude map of the surrounding area.
    "You're an elf," she said again, looking at me suspiciously. "Remove your hat."
    "She's an elf?!" Jonah exclaimed, astonished.
    Reluctantly, I did so, putting Jack Magnus's cap into one of the pouches at my waist.
    Jonah scratched his beard, shaking his head. "She is an elf... How about that..."
    "Does it matter, ma'am?" I asked respectfully, feeling my cheeks grow warm. I already knew what they were doing; they were singling me out because of what I was.
    "You will address me as 'Lieutenant Almory,' Sleeper, and never as 'ma'am'," she said with a harsh glare. "You will say 'sir' if nothing else. I am your superior officer, and I expect you to respect me."
    "Yes, sir," I said quietly. If she wanted me to call her "sir", I didn't have a problem with it. "I thought you were a captain, though..."
    "I was a captain. I used to be an admiral, even. But that doesn't matter anymore." She dismissed it with a wave of her hand. "Why are you here? And why have you brought a Ballpoint soldier along with you, and those scythods?"
    "Ex-Ballpoint, sir," I corrected her. "We're seeking refuge, and trying to get back to Spearbreakers." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jonah frown for a moment at the mention of the fortress.
    "There isn't any refuge to be had here, Sleeper," Lieutenant Almory said sternly. "This is a dead end. Spearbreakers is portal-shielded, as of a year ago, following a Ballpoint attack. Nobody can get in. Ballpoint is going to wipe out this encampment any day now, and nothing can be done about it."
    I hesitated, glancing at Jonah's face for a moment. He hadn't even flinched at what she'd said. "Are you really going to just sit here and wait for the end?" I asked.
    Behind me, I heard someone enter the room, and soon saw a dwarf pass by me to my left, coming to a stop at the table. He had short-cropped, spiky blond hair and a matching mustache, and was wearing green pants with a red shirt that sported large, white flowers. With a curious expression, he reached out and rubbed a finger against my arm. I started to move away, but on catching a glare from the Lieutenant, I stood still.
    "Ballpoint gray," the blond-haired dwarf said, furrowing his brow at the little blood-free patch on my armor, and then at his bloody fingertip. "You're wearing Ballpoint gray? Why?"
    Everyone in the room stared at me suspiciously.
    I felt uneasy. "Mr Frog had it made for me," I explained.
    "Really?" Lieutenant Almory mused. She seemed surprised, though it was hard to tell. "Which one?"
    That stopped me cold. "Which... which one? ...What do you mean?"
    "There are two. One at Spearbreakers, and one... elsewhere."
    "I... I've only ever heard of one," I stuttered, lost. "I knew the one at Spearbreakers."
    Blond-hair smirked in the direction of Lieutenant Almory. "The clone," he said.
    Almory glared at him. "Quiet, Hawkins," she warned.
    My eyes widened as I put together the pieces. "He's a clone? Then... that explains why his memories... It was Joseph, wasn't it?" I asked suddenly. It explained so much.
    Everyone seemed taken aback as the name left my lips. "How do you know that name?" Almory questioned, taking a step closer and staring me down threateningly. She was intimidating, and though my heart raced, I tried my best to breathe steadily.
    "Sir..." I began, quieter, "With all due respect, I think I know more about Joseph than you do... Mr Frog noticed some of his memories were missing after he made a few deals with Joseph... I talked to Joseph myself once. If Mr Frog is a clone... If..." I almost gasped, my mind racing. "If the original Mr Frog is at Eris..." I looked at their faces, and could tell from their glances at each other that I'd figured it out. "He is at Eris, isn't he..." I smiled, a hint of triumph in my voice. "Joseph took Mr Frog to Eris, cloned him, kept him there, and sent the clone back to Spearbreakers, right?"
    "Might as well tell her, Almory," Hawkins said, a smile twitching at a corner of his lips. "Seems she knows pretty much everything already."
    Lieutenant Almory sighed and clasped her hands behind her back. "Parasol received word from Eris four months ago, in the form of a messenger. Someone in Joseph's employment arrived with a message from Mr Frog, routed through someone called 'Silena'. Parasol assumes she's a powerful leader at Eris. In the message transcript, Mr Frog noted that Joseph cloned him, and he gave the coordinates of Eris's dimension. Unfortunately, the coordinates were only of a spot within the dimension, and not of the entry portal, which is the only way to get inside the complex. The rest of the dimension is portal-shielded. The message wasn’t much help, but it’s our best lead."
    "Am I late?" someone asked behind me, loudly slamming the door as he came in. I spun around and saw a grinning Trebor, likely fully aware that he'd interrupted us.
    "There you are, Trebor," Almory said in an annoyed tone. "I thought you'd taken a vacation."
    "Are you serious, sis? A vacation?" he asked incredulously, taking a seat near her and leaning back in his chair. "Crystal City is a vacation. Earth is a vacation. This is a fungus convention in Hell."
    "I am glad you could join us, either way," Almory murmured, shifting her gaze back to me. "How do you know so much about Mr Frog, Sleeper?" she asked curiously.
    I honestly preferred "Hotlips" over "Sleeper". The first almost sounded like a compliment... the second just sounded demeaning, the way Lieutenant Almory said it. "I was Mr Frog's personal assistant, up until a year ago," I explained. "He sent me on a few missions to Ballpoint. That's why my armor is gray – it's so that I would blend in." As I spoke, an idea began to form in my mind, and I paused, deep in thought, my mind racing. "If you'll allow me, Lieutenant Almory," I carefully began, "I think I know how to keep Ballpoint from killing us... I think I know how we can win this battle."
    I'd never strategized before, and I found it a little fun.

☆

[Talvieno]

Chapter 38: A Plan
The journal continues, without any indication of how Vanya felt as she was writing it. Though you've decided she wrote it all long after, you're not sure how or when. You think it's possible that she wrote it when she returned to Spearbreakers, but nothing you've read has indicated that it might be the case. In fact, you think it's just as possible that she was actually at Parasol when she wrote it... possibly even somewhere close to where you are now.

    As soon as I said I thought we could win the battle, everyone started telling me it was impossible. I didn't even have a chance to begin.
    "If you think I can just fire at the portal, you're wrong," Hawkins said, tilting his head with an amused smile. "It's mag-shielded. Anything I shoot at it curves away. Trust me, we've already tried. It's not something we really wanted to do, but! We did try."
    "There are other limitations, too," Lieutenant Almory said coldly. "They've jammed our interdimensional communications, and we have no way to contact Parasol. Our short-range communications systems don't reach any farther than twenty miles. Ballpoint has Portal Interference Generators set up at different points around us, and we can't portal out, or in."
    Jonah nodded in agreement. "If there was anything we could try, I've already thought of it," the dwarf said apologetically. "No offense to your kind, but I doubt you could come up with anything I haven't, anyway." This last came close to ticking me off.
    Trebor laughed and folded his arms behind his head. "Jonah, remind me to stop by your place later for scones and a cup of ego." His jest went unnoticed.
    "I may be an elf," I said, trying my best to remain calm, "but that doesn't mean I'm stupid, or that I'm madly in love with nature. If you'll just give me a chance, I'll -"
    "You're an elf?" Trebor seemed surprised, sitting up and cocking his head sideways. "Kinky. As you're not 'madly in love', then perhaps -"
    "Trebor," Almory scolded, "Time and place. You're here because you're my brother, not because I want you to hit on women."
    Trebor laughed dismissively. "Sorry, sis." I was starting to feel very uncomfortable around the man.
    "If you'll just give me a chance," I repeated slowly, "I'll explain." I took a few cautious steps towards the table, and upon reaching it, I pointed at the trench in the clay model. "This is us, right?"
    The lieutenant nodded. "I'll humor you for now. Tell me your thoughts."
    I moved my finger from the trench to the other side of the megaportal's hill. "And this is where Ballpoint is? Behind the hill next to the trench?" At Almory's nod, I continued, moving my finger back to the trench and tracing a path as I spoke. "If I was to start here, at the trench, and walk around these hills to the side, coming up on the back of the Ballpoint camp... they would think I was with them, since I'm wearing Ballpoint gray. If you created some sort of diversion or distraction, I could get over here, to the megaportal.
    "Mr Frog taught me a lot about portals," I went on. "If you gave me the right coordinates, I could open it to somewhere in Parasol, so our troops could come through."
    Hawkins swore under his breath in Human, a smile breaking over his face. "Mon rithma... I think she's really onto something!"
    "It won't be enough," Jonah pointed out. "You might be able to get into their camp if they were distracted enough, but not to the portal."
    Frowning, Almory spoke harshly. "It won't work at all."
    Everyone stopped and looked at her.
    "Ballpoint will be on her in seconds. She's an elf. She can't blend in well enough to fool them, and there's not a tree in sight."
    I looked at her indignantly. "I've lived in dwarven fortresses all my life, and no one ever knew I was an elf," I stated with a touch of pride. "It's not that hard."
    She ignored me, gesturing in my direction. "Anyone can tell an elf from a dwarf just by looking at them, anyway, and Ballpoint has so few elves employed that she'll stand out."
    With a dramatic flourish, I snatched Jack Magnus's cap out of its pouch and placed it on my head, pulling it over my ears, and stared at her.
    Hawkins gaped, almost laughing. "Mon Rithma," he said in awe, "Almory, she's right. Look at her now. With the ears covered, she looks just like a dwarf. Well..." He paused, tilting his head slightly. "She's a little skinny for a dwarf, but still. Wow."
    A triumphant smile crept across my face. I was fine with "skinny".
    "Call me 'Lieutenant' while we're not alone, Hawk," Almory told him quietly. To me, she argued, "It still won't work, Sleeper. If we make a distraction of any sort, they'll just be on the alert, and even more likely to find you."
    "What if we draw them towards here?" I asked, running my finger down the hill, between the portal and trench. "You've already implied that they can't break through the shields, so it would be safe."
    Jonah shook his head. "They wouldn't attack at all," he countered. "They'd see the shields were up, and they'd ignore us."
    "What if we lowered them?" I asked.
    Everyone looked at me as if I was crazy.
    "Not like that!" I added quickly. "Just long enough to draw them closer. Then we put them back up."
    Hawkins was against it. "They'd shoot my turret, first thing," he said, crossing his arms.
    Quickly, I thought up a way around it. "Then we do everything while it's still dark, and we move the turret to the other side of the trench."
    "Have you looked at it??" he asked incredulously. "Do you have any idea how much that thing weighs?"
    I'd seen it. "Not too much for fifteen people to move, I bet."
    Jonah stepped forwards quietly, scratching the bridge of his nose and staring at the model on the table. "There is another option we have," he began cautiously, glancing up at Almory. "It's a bit of a secret, but... we have a prototype mag-deflector shield here... It's ancient technology, but... it might offer us a little protection against long-range weaponry. Even though we're right at the base of their hill, we might manage to throw them to the side."
    "I know how to work it," Hawkins offered. "Figured it out last summer."
    "It still won't be enough." Almory shook her head slowly, still against it. "There's a reason we use the energy shield instead of the mag-deflect." She seemed to be growing very annoyed at my persistence.
    "What about the scythods?" I offered, brainstorming. "If they dug a long tunnel right beneath the hillside, Ballpoint's tanks would fall into it as they rolled over."
    Everyone stared at me quietly, deep in thought.
    "Okay," I started again, laying it out for them from the beginning. "Tomorrow, we help the scythods dig a tunnel under the hill. They dig, and we take out the dirt."
    Jonah raised a cautionary finger. "And dump it where?" he asked, pointing out a potential problem.
    "The caverns, maybe," Trebor joked. "Or just up here. Whole place is a dump anyway, right?"
    I went on, tracing my finger across the surface of the clay model. "Tomorrow night, we move the turret from one side of the trench to the other. Then, Lieutenant, you lead a small squad of people over to the Ballpoint camp and do little things to make them angry. Little things like blowing up vehicles and tents, and drawing their attention back and forth from one side of the camp to the other. Then you get back here as fast as you can, making sure they follow you. You lower the shields and turn on the mag-deflector, and Hawkins mans the gun until they figure out where we moved it.
    "Meanwhile, I take a long path around the hill and come up on the other side. While they're launching an attack on the trench, they'll be distracted enough that I can get to the megaportal and open it up for reinforcements. Ballpoint is destroyed, and we win."
    Almory's face twisted as she started to hyperventilate with anger. "Do you have any idea who we are?" she asked.
    "Calm down, Almory," Hawkins said, stepping towards her carefully, trying to put a hand on her shoulder. "It'll be all right."
    She smacked him away, seething with rage. "Can it, Hawkins. Sleeper, this is Parasol's Auxiliary Squad 48D. We're not elites. We're not extensively trained. We're not even soldiers. We're misfits; a cobbled-together squad of filler soldiers to make Parasol's ranks look bigger and more intimidating. These people were never supposed to see combat at all! Before the Time War, Trebor was a medical student, Jonah was a theoretical physicist, and Hawkins was a shuttle pilot."
    Hawkins raised his hand with a smile.
    Almory went on, fuming. "Katie - Katalina Okablokum was training to be an archiver at Parasol, and Saemin Lo is a construction worker. The only people here who have any military background are Tames, Martin, and I, and Martin hasn't even been able to get up for months! He's a biomech, and his legs are malfunctioning." She stepped forwards and slammed her hand fist on the table, seemingly ready to bite my head off. "These are my people, Sleeper, and I will not needlessly put any of them in danger!!"

    Silence fell in the little office, everyone hanging their heads in shame, except me. I stared Almory in the eye. I could see the pain there; I thought I knew why she was lashing out at me.
    "You've lost someone close to you, haven't you," I guessed quietly.
    Hawkins jerked his head up quickly and started mouthing, "Don't go there!"
    The lieutenant looked at me strangely, her voice deep with restrained fury. "...What."
    I looked downwards at the table with my eyes, careful not to meet her gaze, to keep from angering her. "I've lost someone close to me, too," I said softly, idly tracing my fingertip across the clay model. "I lost my sister, during a mission against Ballpoint. There was nothing I could do to save her." At the memory, I stopped, looking back up at her face. "I can repair Martin for you," I offered. "Mr Frog taught me as much as he could about electromechanics and bioneurology... And during the battle, if Ballpoint gets too close, all you have to do is turn the energy shield back on. I'll die, but you'll be safe. If I can't get the megaportal to open, I'll blow it up. I'll die, but you'll be safe."
    Almory's face was expressionless as she bored into me with her eyes, but the others seemed more emotional: Jonah gently shook his head in dumbfounded shock, Trebor fell back into his chair, and Hawkins whispered, "Mon rithma..." It seemed I'd gained a measure of respect from them.
    "And Lieutenant," I continued quietly, looking around at everyone, "If we sit here and do nothing... your people are going to die anyway. My people will, too." I looked back at her dark, brown eyes. "Do you really want all of us to die without putting up a fight?"

    Another awkward silence hung thickly in the air, everyone unwilling to talk after I'd been so bold, possibly for fear of angering Lieutenant Almory. After several minutes, Jonah spoke to her. "Captain, if she repairs Gearbox, he could be our ace in the hole... Ballpoint doesn't know he's here. And if Katie was to teach Vanya her deflection spell, Vanya would have a much greater chance of success... I think it could be done."
    "I'm for it," Trebor put in, getting up. "It sounds like a good plan to me."
    Almory turned her head to glare at him.
    Hawkins stepped forwards, too, although he was visibly nervous. "Almory -"
    "Lieutenant," she corrected him under her breath.
    "Lieutenant," he began again, "I think it's a good idea, too..."
    She rolled her eyes and directed her glare toward him, instead.
    Hawkins held up his hands in a "don't shoot" gesture and blurted, "But that's just my opinion! Perfectly fine if you don't take my advice."
    "It has no chance of working," she warned, frustrated. "I am sure of it. I'll bet my finest sword on it, even: she will die before she ever reaches the portal."
    Trebor raised a hand. "I'll take that bet," he said, grinning sheepishly.
    "I don't think it's so hopeless," Jonah admitted, wary of Almory’s wrath. Hawkins nodded in agreement.
    Almory glanced around at everyone, seemingly a volcano ready to erupt. Finally, she sighed and gave in, to my immense relief. "Fine. We'll try it. But we won't tell anyone else the whole plan until they need to know; it would lower their morale. We'll let them believe that the visitors will be enough to turn the tide. And you," she said, pointing at me, "If I get the slightest idea that the mission is at risk, I will be closing the shields and leaving you out there. Understand?"
    "I understand, sir," I answered, nodding.
    "You are all dismissed. I'll join you at the mess hall in a moment."

    "That was gutsy," Hawkins said after we left, shaking his head at me as we walked back down the stairs to the base of the trench. "I thought she was going to shoot you. Gotta be more careful around her, okay?" He halted on the steps, sniffing the air. "Mmm, smells good! Mon rithma, what has Katie cooked up for us this time?"
    "Smells like rations, steam-broiled," Trebor joked loudly. "If I had amnesia, I could say it's been longer than I could remember since I had it last. Hmm... I wonder what she's cooked us for dessert," he said with a sarcastic smile.
    "Likely more of the same," Hawkins laughed, "but it smells different this time, somehow." He and Trebor rushed ahead, leaving Jonah and I alone on the steps as we descended.
    I looked over at him nervously. "Is Hawkins with Almory?" I asked, worrying I was being too nosy.
    He laughed at my question, folding his glasses and putting them into his shirt pocket, beside his gray-edged beard. "Are they together, you mean? No, they haven't even admitted they like each other yet; everyone seems to know they're in love but them. We don't say anything about it, though. I doubt the captain would have it, anyway. She's too 'by the book' to have a military relationship, and aside from that, she's already openly against Katie and Saemin being together. Being with Hawkins would be hypocritical of her."
   
    The mess hall was bigger than I thought it would be... but it wasn't nearly as ornate or impressive as the dining hall at Spearbreakers. As I looked about, I saw that it had long plastic tables, metal folding chairs, and walls of dirt instead of stone. It had a homey feel to it, a sort of comfort, like they had tried to fix it up. There were odd decorations here and there, like a plaid white and green cloth hanging against a wall, a few plastic wreaths of holly, and a candle stub in the middle of every table.
    John, Tedaz, and Strohe were sitting quietly at one of the tables, slumping in their chairs and looking around awkwardly, as if they felt they didn't belong. There was another table pushed up end-to-end against theirs, and the Parasol employees sat at that one, chatting. I recognized Trebor, Hawkins, and Saemin, but the other man at the table - a human - was unfamiliar. He had scraggly brown hair and a stubble of a beard, and was wearing a dark leather trench coat. Though he looked battle-worn, he seemed comfortable where he was. While the other three cracked jokes, he sat silently, watching a doorway at the far end of the room. There was a window next to it, and through it I could see Katie, walking hurriedly back and forth.
    "Go sit down," Jonah prodded me, going on ahead and taking a seat by Hawkins. Feeling nervous, I pulled out the chair to the right of John and sat down, scooting forwards under the table. It was so silent at our table that even that act alone seemed intrusive. John only turned his head towards me, and then looked away.
    "Where is Reudh?" I asked.
    Across the table and to my left, Tedaz raised his head. "He's been in the kitchen with Katie," he answered, pointing at the window on the far side of the room. "He thought the soldiers could use some of our food."
    "Katie cooks?"
    The swordsman shrugged. "I guess," he answered, and changed the subject. "It feels odd being here, one of only a couple humans."
    "We're all humans," Strohe pointed out, meaning him and John.
    "But look at the Parasol troops," Tedaz said. "Only two of them are. The rest are dwarves."
    "Katie's pretty tall for a dwarf," Strohe chuckled.
    I looked at him with a quizzical expression. "You think she's a dwarf?"
    The odd little farmer laughed. "Being human myself, I can tell ya for sure that she ain't one."
    For a moment, I puzzled over this. After living around dwarves my whole life, I could tell that she wasn't a dwarf... but I'd thought she was a human. Being one-third of three species, everyone seemed to think she was of a species different from their own... With racism and prejudice as big of a problem as it is these days, I couldn't imagine how much trouble that had given her while she was growing up.

☆

[Talvieno]

Chapter 39: An Evening Meal
The only thing that separates this entry from the previous is Vanya's trademark star. You get the feeling she wrote this entry immediately following it.

    "Dinner is ready!" Katie called, carrying a few steaming trays of food into the room, layered on her arm. Reudh entered behind her, a tray in each hand. His clumsiness stood out in stark contrast to the graceful sweep of her arms as she placed her trays on the table, one after the next. "Sorry it took so long!" she apologized. "Reudh and the scythods offered us some of their food supplies, and I thought it would make a special treat for everyone." With that, she twirled and started back towards the kitchen for another set of trays.
    "Mon rithma!" Hawkins exclaimed, staring at his plate like a kid on his birthday. "Real food!"
    "It's really good!" Saemin chuckled through a mouthful.
    Reudh sat his trays down carefully in front of John and Trebor, and then straightened, saying, "Potatoes, corn and salted pork! It's travel food, but you won't find better this side of the capital! I chose carefully." He started walking towards the kitchen, but stopped and looked over at me with a thoughtful, curious expression. "Vanya, what is the meat that the scythods gave us?"
    I didn't know. "Whatever they caught last," I said, shrugging. "It's usually okay."
    Reudh gave an uncomfortable nod and continued towards the kitchen, having some difficulty drawing his eyes away from me. He almost bumped into Katie, who was traveling back with another set of trays.
    "Careful!" she laughed. "I don't want to drop it! We can't waste any of this. Here, take your plate," she said, turning her arm carefully towards him. He took it gratefully, and with a respectful nod, sat down across from me, next to Strohe. Katie sat a plate in front of me, and then another to my right. "This is mine," she whispered, and then left, rushing back to the kitchen.
    I followed Katie with my eyes as she walked around the table, and then stopped as she passed behind Reudh. He was staring at me, fork in hand, as if he didn't want to believe what he was seeing.
    "What is it?" I asked.
    Reudh motioned towards my head with a finger. "That hat... where did you get it?"
    I glanced around, unsure why he was asking. "From Jack Magnus, back at Spearbreakers... why?"
    A worried frown flicked into view, but he tried to hide it. "Were you friends with him?"
    I was beginning to feel worried, myself. "I guess you could say that... Why are you asking?"
    He sighed and put his fork down. "I have some news that I regret I must tell you, dearest. Jack Magnus died last winter."
    "What?!" I exclaimed, a little too loudly. A few heads turned in my direction, and there was a lull in conversation from everyone else. After they started talking again, I said quietly, "What do you mean, 'Jack Magnus died'? He was one of the best soldiers in the fortress. He couldn't have died." I didn't want to believe it. It couldn't be true. I wanted to believe that maybe Reudh was just lying to get rid of his competition.
    Katie interrupted us, going around the table and setting a mug of beer in front of everyone. As she passed me, she whispered, "If you want water instead, I can get it for you."
    I shook my head, so distracted that I hardly noticed her. "No, it's okay."
    She nodded and left, walking back towards the kitchen with an empty tray.
    A lump formed in my throat. "Reudh... that day I kissed you on the cheek... was that the day he died? Was I the reason Jack Magnus died?"
    Reudh shook his head roughly. "No, he died later that year! It was in the middle of a Spawn siege! He gave his life protecting the fortress. Quite gallantly, too, I might add."
    I wanted to cry. "Did they at least give him a tomb?"
    Reudh gave me a little smile. "Cheer up, sweet Vanya," he said softly. "He didn't stay dead." At my horrified expression, he added, "No, no! I don't mean he became a zombie! Not at all, my dear!"
    That confused me even further. "Okay...?"
    "From what I understand, someone named Draconit... Draconis?"
    "Draconik," I prodded, as Katie sat down beside me and started eating.
    Reudh nodded, picking his fork back up. "Yes, Draconik. Draconik brought him back, though he had a body made of metal. He died several more times after that, but Draconik brought him back to life each time."
    I stared blankly, frowning with a corner of my mouth. "...What? A body of metal?"
    Katie raised an eyebrow. "He sounds like a biomech. I didn't know dwarves have that technology," she said, popping a spoonful of mashed potatoes into her mouth.
    "...They don't," I said slowly, picking at my corncob. "Draconik is from Parasol."
    "Oh!" Reudh exclaimed. "That explains so much, then! I always wondered why he seemed such a queer dwarf."
    This made Katie laugh. "You think Parasol is queer, do you? We think you're a little funny, too, or at least a little behind... though I'd love to be in some of your battles."
    John leaned forwards over his food to look around me. "Battle isn't as glorious as you think," he said distastefully.
    "Says you!" Katie brushed her hair out of her eyes with her fingers. "All I ever get is guard duty. I lied about my age in order to join the army, and nobody will let me fight because I'm 'too inexperienced'. But you should see the Captain! She's amazing with her swords!"
    Trebor spoke up loudly from farther down the two tables. "She always preferred melee over range, and she got good at it, unlike Saemin over here, who's lucky if he hits the right barn, let alone the broad side of it," he joked, grinning and patting Saemin on the back. "And speaking of Saemin, you new guys should eat a bit faster!" he added pointedly, making sure we heard. "When he finishes his, he'll try to finish yours, too."
    Saemin chuckled in a deep voice. "It's not my fault. I gotta eat more 'cause I'm so much bigger than you guys."
    "He's telling the truth!" Hawkins offered, scarfing down a hefty forkful of pork.
    Trebor nodded solemnly. "Just ask Hawkins, he's had his dinner go MIA more times than he can count. Granted, he can't count past five."
    Laughing, Hawkins protested, "I was sick and delirious! Nobody would've known except you judged it funny to tape the whole thing."
    "Your honor, I object!" Trebor said, raising a hand. "I knew it was funny, and it was. Not quite as funny as when we stuck Jonah up that tree, though."
    Jonah shook his head, smiling. "No, don't go dragging me into your grandiose festival of jokes."
    "And why not?" Trebor grinned. "For a hobbyist astrophysicist, your fear of heights is toweringly funny, and your fear of water is drowning in irony. And what about you, Tames?" he asked, speaking to the man in the leather trench coat. "You've been awfully quiet all night. If you got shy, I can't imagine who you caught it from."
    Tames shifted in his chair. "I prefer to listen," he said simply, crossing his arms behind his half-empty plate. "I do think you're going very far out of your way to impress the new girl, though," he added disapprovingly, nodding in my direction.
    At his mention of me, I raised my eyebrows, awkwardly swallowing a mouthful of food. It had been a while since I'd eaten anything so good, and I think I was more focused on the food than their conversation.
    "What? Trying to impress Hotlips? Of course not," Trebor said, smirking and waving a hand in front of him as if dismissing the thought. "What about you, though, pulling the 'strong but silent' act?"
    "I do this every night, Trebor," Tames said quietly. "Or have you not noticed?"
    Jonah chuckled, glancing over at me. "I think you're absolutely right, Tames; he's definitely smitten with Vanya."
    Tames gave a brief, forced smile of recognition.
    "She's not looking for a relationship!" Reudh piped up, meeting my eyes for a moment. "She's said that very clearly! She's not ready." Nobody seemed to hear him.
    Trebor grinned mischievously. "If I want to see 'smitten', Jonah, I'll have Saemin practice yoga within a mile of you. You'll be so smitten we'll have trouble peeling you from the wall, floor, or wherever else you happen to stop."
    "He's not clumsy like that!" Katie burst out, defending him.
    Saemin only laughed, shaking his head. "Naw, I am sometimes!"
    Katie sat back, a frown troubling her face as she turned to me and quietly explained, "He's bad with melee weapons, but he's not as clumsy as Trebor says."
   
    "Enough!"
    Our heads turned towards the doorway to the trench as we all looked at Lieutenant Almory, who stood with her hands on her hips, fingertips gently brushing the hilts of her two swords.
    "We have more important matters to discuss than whether or not Saemin Lo's yoga is dangerous." She sent a very pointed glare in my direction. "We've decided on a course of action."
    Saemin set Hawkin's plate down in front of him quietly. "We're not gonna sit around anymore?"
    "No. Tomorrow we'll be helping the scythods dig a large tunnel beneath the surface of the hill. Early tomorrow night, under cover of darkness, we'll move the railcannon to the other end of the trench."
    "Uh, Captain," Saemin interrupted again, frowning, "I can't lift that..."
    She narrowed her eyes at him. "Of course not, which is why I said we."
    "Sorry, Captain." Saemin's head drooped slightly, and he popped the rest of Hawkin's pork into his mouth.
    Tames folded his hands worriedly and asked, "Does this mean we're actually going to attack?"
    "Yes it does," she answered, in a voice that belied her feelings on my plan. "Tomorrow night, before dawn, you, Martin, Jonah and I will sneak over to Ballpoint's camp, get them angry, and lead them back here. We'll keep the energy shields down until they get too close, and we'll have the prototype mag-deflector running, since they don't know we have it. With the new manpower," she said, looking at John and Reudh's party, "we'll be able to cause enough damage to cause Ballpoint to pull back from the portal. Eventually, we may be able to retake it."
    "Gearbox isn't working, though, Captain!" Katie cried out in dismay. "Martin, I mean. I can't figure out how to fix him, and there's no way I can do it in one day!"
    "That's the Sleeper's job, not yours," Almory told her. "However... Katalina and Agent Carena, follow me. The rest of you, finish eating and hit the bunks. No late-night partying. I need you all well-rested for tomorrow." Saying this, she motioned for Katie and I to follow her as she left the mess hall.
    As Katie and I stood, Tames got to his feet as well, saying, "It doesn't sound like this is going to work... I'm not hungry anymore." He seemed very concerned.

    The three of us left the mess hall and entered the trench. Almory was waiting for us outside.
    "Goodnight, Tames," she said pointedly, motioning for him to leave. As she did, I heard Hawkins in the mess hall, exclaiming about how Saemin had stolen his food.
    "Good night, Captain." He nodded and began walking away.
    Almory followed him with her eyes, folding her arms. After he was out of sight, she turned to Katie and I. "Sleeper, do you have any experience in magic?"
    "Magic?" I asked excitedly. "Really??"
    Almory's eyes bored into me impatiently.
    I shook my head. "I've always wanted to learn," I offered helpfully, hoping I was going to learn.
    From Almory's expression, I could tell that she'd been hoping to hear something very different. She groaned, looked at Katie and asked, "Katalina, how long would it take you to teach Agent Carena your deflection spell?"
    Katie seemed embarrassed. "It's not one I use much," she said carefully, thinking. She seemed uncertain. "I guess maybe six or seven hours?" She frowned and looked down at Almory, who was a few inches shorter than she was.
    Almory narrowed her eyes. "You'll do it in five."
    "What's going on, Captain?" Katie asked, seeming worried. "Why does she need that spell in particular?"
    "There's more to the plan than I told everyone else. Agent Carena's life depends on learning that spell. And you, Sleeper," she went on, "If you don't have 'Gearbox' fixed by tomorrow night, I'm turning you out. I expect you to fix him first. If you really want to learn that spell, I expect you to hold up your end of the deal."
    "Yes sir," I said quietly, keeping a calm facade. Inside, I wanted to jump for joy.
    She nodded with mild approval. "Good. Katalina, I hope you left something for me. That food smells delicious."
    Katie beamed. "It's in the temp regulator, Captain. I thought it might be a while before you got here, so I put it in there to keep it warm. I'll get it right out for you, okay?" She started back into the mess hall, watching over her shoulder.
    Almory nodded, a gentle, loving smile tugging at a corner of her mouth. "All right, Katalina," she said. "I'll be in soon. You go on." After Katie left, she turned to me, her expression stern and serious once more, but she spoke quietly. "These people aren't just soldiers to me, Agent. I'm their lieutenant, but to them, I'm their captain, and to me, they're my family."
    Her sudden change in demeanor caught me off guard. "I... I understand, sir..."
    "Good," she said, and re-entered the mess hall.
    Her gentleness and loving smiles were things I'd never expected to see from her, but it soon turned out I didn't know her as well as I'd thought.

    The rest of supper was just as lively as it had been while Almory was away. While her soldiers respected her and feared her wrath, they enjoyed her company at the same time. Like any dwarf, she could hold her beer, and her jokes were as loud and racy as even Trebor's. They didn't feel like soldiers when you were around them... they felt more like family, just as Almory had said.
    It left me with a guilty feeling. I'd barged into their world uninvited, and upset their way of doing things. I was asking them to put their lives on the line, but my purpose wasn't to save them... it was to save myself, and get back to Spearbreakers. It was selfish of me, and it made me feel awful inside. I made a silent vow that I would do whatever I could to save all of them, no matter what happened in the end.

☆

[Talvieno]

Chapter 40: Urist
    An idea drifts into your mind, and you look up at the woman across from you, studying her again. The eyes, a silver-green, aren't quite as Vanya had described them, but the woman's wavy brown hair matches almost perfectly. You wish Vanya had provided pictures, but as it stands...
    "Are you Katie?" you ask cautiously.
    The woman offers you a mildly amused smirk. "Of course I am."
    Unfortunately, from the tone in her voice, her response seems as likely to be sarcasm as truth, only making you more confused.
    "I told you," the woman says in a more serious tone. "Your guessing is only going to get both of us into trouble. Please, just keep reading. "
    With a disappointed nod, you press the button to record and continue reading.

    After dinner, Katie sent me on ahead to my room while she cleaned up after dinner. I wanted to help, but Almory said I needed as much sleep as possible for the next day.
    "They always give me this kind of job, don't worry about it!" Katie told me. "I'd love to fight battles with everyone else, but they won't let me. I always get stuck with things like this. You go on ahead!"
    "Where do I go?"
    She laughed lightheartedly. "It's simple! Just leave the mess hall and head towards the armory, then take the second set of stairs on your right after you pass the latrines, turn right and take the first door on your left."
    My mind soon managed to jumble her instructions into a meaningless mess. Fifteen minutes later, she found me wandering the wrong end of the trench, completely lost, and peeking into every door in frustration as I passed.

    "Come on!" Katie said as she led me back. She always seemed to be in a good mood, but I could tell she was tired. "I told you to go the other direction! Why were you at that end of the camp?"
    "I got lost," I tried to explain. "I've never been here before."
    She laughed. "How do you get lost? There are only two directions you can go!"
    "It's a big trench!" I protested, smiling in spite of myself.
    Katie only laughed again in response, and continued leading me forwards. "Here are the latrines," she said, pointing at a door as we passed. "Here's the stairs to the generator, shields, computers and comm systems." She gestured at a flight of stairs on our right. "Don't ever go up there, or the Captain will get mad. She only lets me go in there because I'm good with computers. And here's the stairs to the barracks," she added as we began climbing them. "Usually everyone gets their own room, but you'll have to bunk with me tonight. We don’t have any more spare rooms." She gave an apologetic frown.
    "That isn't so bad," I noted. It was better than bunking with Reudh.
    Reaching the top, she opened the first door, explaining, "You have to turn the doorknob, because they're not automatic. You get to pick any bed you want! Well, except for the one on the end, because that's mine."
    Walking inside, I looked around, and heard her close the door behind us. The room was dimly lit, and a lot bigger than I'd expected it to be. There were at least sixteen beds in eight stacks, four up against each sidewall, with chairs in between. It was a typical barracks dorm, but the beds drew my attention. "They're stacked on top of each other!" I exclaimed, walking over to the nearest and climbing up the ladder enough to see the one on top.
    Katie laughed. "You haven't seen bunk beds before?"
    I hopped back down and shook my head. "Dwarves only have single beds. I have no idea why they've never thought about it before!"
    "Maybe because they like a more solid feel?" Katie suggested, pushing on the top bunk of the nearest. It wobbled back and forth slightly. "But what about you?" she asked. "Don't you feel better higher up? You're all elf, you said."
    "I was raised by dwarves," I said thoughtfully. "I grew up around them... I like most of the things that dwarves like, but there are some things I like that they don't... like the stars."
    She smiled, tilting her head at me with an impish smile and shaking it from side to side. "Then how can you say you're all elf?" she asked. "I'm half human, but I spent so much time with my mother that I feel I'm an equal part of elf and dwarf, too." Katie walked over to her side of the room, motioning for me to follow. "You can sleep on the top bunk of my bed," she offered.
    "I'd love to," I breathed happily, and I meant it. I felt drawn almost irresistibly to the new experience of a bed so far above the ground. "It must be like sleeping in the clouds."
    She found my musings hilarious. "It's not nearly as dandy as you think," she giggled, and changed the subject. "Do you see the box at the foot of each bed?"
    I looked. At the base of each bunk, top and bottom, was a chest with a lid.
    At my nod, she explained, "You put your clothes – or armor – in there when you go to sleep, and it's clean the next morning."
    "That's a lot faster than washing them by hand," I whispered, opening mine and peeking at the inside. The walls of the chest were thick, but the inside looked like smooth, silver plastic.
    "You really have lived in dwarven fortresses your whole life, haven't you?" Katie asked thoughtfully, studying me through her dark bangs. "For most of my life I've lived at Parasol. You see this kind of thing every day there!" Suddenly her eyes took on a mischievous gleam. "Did you ever meet anybody you really liked?" she whispered with a gossip-like air.
    My excitement slowly faded, and I turned away, sitting down on the edge of a bed. "I don't want to think about men anymore," I replied quietly. Suddenly, I remembered Urist's package and took it out of my pouch.
    Katie sat down next to me, leaning forwards and peering at the brown wrapping curiously before looking up at me, her blue eyes almost seeming to glow in the dim light. "What is it?" she asked, worried. "Is something wrong?
    I started to shake my head, but stopped. I really didn't know the answer. "It's from Urist... He's the... he's an old friend."
    A corner of her mouth tweaked downwards. "A friend?" She didn't seem to buy it.
    "He used to be," I said quietly, turning the package over in my hands. "But that was all we were. He never wanted anything more. I don't know why he sent this with Reudh... or why he sent me anything at all."
    She and I looked it over carefully. Urist had wrapped the package in dried rope reed paper, thickly enough that I couldn't really make out the shape of whatever was inside. "If he thinks sending me something will make it any better –"
    "Make what any better?" Katie asked innocently.
    I frowned. Now that I was holding something from him, he seemed more difficult to speak about. "He killed my sister," I whispered.
    "What?!" Her face twisted into a horrified expression, which soon merged into confusion. "But... How..." She seemed almost as if she was about to ask a question, but she shook her head and brushed it away. "Did he do it on purpose?"
    With a sigh, I shook my head. "He didn't know it was her... He was trying to protect me."
    "Open it," Katie urged.
    On her prompting, I did, removing one layer of wrapping after another and letting them flutter to the floor beside my bloodstained boots. The parchment was so thin, and Urist had wrapped it so tightly, that it seemed to take forever before we finally reached a hand-sized box, with a folded note attached to the outside. Setting the package down, I unfolded the note and began to read aloud:

    "Vanya,
    Four years ago, the day you saved Talvi's life and mine, I rediscovered you in the courtyard following a Holistic Spawn attack and requested Urist's location. It was the first occasion on which you heard his name, but I withheld information regarding the events that occurred immediately following. A rogue agent from Parasol was attempting to release demonic forces upon the fortress by Urist's hand, fooling him through the overuse of hallucinogenics. His name was Iohanne. Iohanne and I fought, deep beneath even the magma forges, and so exhausted was I from the battle I had shared with you that I would have definitely faced an inescapable failure, if Urist not saved my life, and by extension, the fortress, by killing the agent as he strangled me. Though I passed out, Urist received a vision from Armok, wherein the immortal etched a message on the head of Urist's broken spear.
    Though I am against it, he cares for you, Vanya. He foolishly squandered a fortune commissioning a number of these, and sent an identical package with every merchant-infested caravan that has passed through Spearbreakers in hopes of reaching you. This particular package goes with Reudh, a former overseer.
    Despite my reassurances that it is pointless and the probability that you survived the fall is extremely miniscule, Urist persists in his illogical delusions and believes you did not perish.
    Talvi admitted that she attempted to murder you. Tomio, the current overseer, mandated her imprisonment, and she therefore no longer presents any threat to your livelihood. I would appreciate your prompt return.
    Signed, Mr Frog
    PS, I write this only at Urist's insistence. He has become my personal assistant in your absence."
   
    "You were friends with Mr Frog?" Katie asked suddenly, looking up at my face. She quieted when she noticed the moisture in my eyes.
    I bit my lip, shaking my head. "I wouldn't say 'friends'," I whispered, and then an invading smile twisted against my frown; I felt caught between tears and laughter. "He always called me 'stupid girl'... I was his assistant. I don't think he ever thought much of me."
    "He thought enough to ask you to come home..."
    I nodded wordlessly, opening the little box. Inside was a crystal jade spearhead, shaped just like the one Urist had always carried with him; shaped just like the one that had guided Urist and I through the caverns with a glowing light, that day he'd risked his life to rescue me from prison. Tears pooled in my eyes as I read the single page that was laid on top of it.

    "Vanya, this is a copy of my most prized possession. I would send you the original, but I save that for the day I find you. I am sorry for what I did to your sister. Indeed, I did not know it was her until Mr Frog and Wari informed me, but I have carried a heavy weight on my shoulders ever since. Although almost everyone believes you to be dead, I know in my heart that you are still alive. Please come home, Vanya. Even if you never speak to me again... even if you are only here for a day... please come home. I will await you always."
   
    "He loves you," Katie whispered, but I hardly heard her as I broke down, tossing the package aside, holding my head in my hands as I shook with silent sobs. Putting her arm around me, she sat by my side, holding my hand in hers. I was grateful for it, and together we sat there until the pain in my heart started to fade, and the tears began to subside.

~~~

    The next morning at dawn, Katie stood beside the bed and shook the top bunk gently back and forth. "Wake up, sleepy!" she called.
    Slowly I awoke, rubbing at my eyes with my fingertips to clear them.
    "How did you sleep?" she laughed. "Was it really like a cloud?"
    As groggy as I was, I couldn't help but smile at what I'd said the night before. "It wasn't quite like a cloud, but it was still nice," I said, sitting up and holding the blanket close to my skin to keep it wrapped around me. I still felt tired, but it had been a while since I'd gotten such a good night's sleep. ""It's been a while since I slept on a mattress... I've slept in the dirt for the past year."
    She grinned. "Come on, get up and get into your clothes. I already made breakfast. I'll see you downstairs, okay?" With that, she spun around on her heel and walked light-footedly out the door. She was already wearing her Parasol uniform.
    I let the blanket fall from me and crawled cautiously to the foot of the bed, half-expecting to fall at any second. It felt a little unsafe, but last night I'd been so tired I hadn't cared. I lifted the lid of the cleaning chest, and was pleased to find that my clothes were clean. There was still a slash on one upper arm from where my sister had cut through the carbon fiber padding, but I was fine with it, and put them on quickly; being winter, it was cold. Afterwards, using Reudh’s comb, I brushed out my hair – it was just getting to where it had been before Mr Frog had cut it.

    As I entered the mess hall, Reudh rose from his seat respectfully. Behind him, Trebor leaned back in his chair, talking around a mouthful of food. "Hey, Hotlips! We weren't sure if you'd gotten lost again! Tames told us all about your little adventure last night." I decided to ignore him.
    "You look beautiful this morning, Vanya!" Reudh declared as I approached.
    It made me smile. "Thank you, Reudh," I said softly. "Your comb works wonders."
    Pleased, he pulled out my chair for me to sit down.
    "Wow, a gentleman," Trebor laughed. "I thought they died out with the dinosaurs."
    "Only where you come from," Jonah said, nodding to me politely before turning back to Hawkins, attempting to continue his conversation.
    Trebor feigned indignation. "I'll have you know I come from a very long line of gentlemen, Jonah," he said, regaining the other's attention. "I simply skipped in line, that's all, and they were too polite to put me in my place." Saying this, he got up, headed for the door to the trench.
    As Trebor walked around the table, Hawkins called, "Or perhaps they considered you a lost cause?"
    It wasn't until then that I noticed the railgun was regularly firing rounds. "Hawkins, if you're here, then... who's firing the railgun?" I asked curiously.
    "Oh, that's Saemin," Hawkins answered, popping a bit of salted pork into his mouth with his fingers. "He takes the night shift. If he didn't, they'd probably already have that portal open."
    I nodded, thinking. "That explains why he's gone... Where's everyone else? John is here, and Tedaz and Strohe are too..." At their names, they nodded and waved, though Strohe seemed more absorbed in his drink than his food. "...but where are Lieutenant Almory and Katie? And Tames?"
    "I'm here!" Katie called through the kitchen window. "I'll be out in just a moment. Tames monitors the power, shields and communications; he'll probably be up there most of the day. He doesn't like helping with other stuff anyway."
    John swallowed and stopped eating for a moment. "The scythods already ate. The Captain is with them, getting the tunnel started." He paused, confused. "Why do you call her 'Lieutenant', anyway? Isn't she a captain?"
    "Not exactly," Jonah said, sighing.
    Katie came out from the kitchen with three trays of food. "She's a lieutenant, but some stuff happened before I knew her and... well..." She appeared at a loss for words, and sat one in front of me, one in front of herself, and another across from us. "Trebor could tell the story best, but he just left, so..." She appeared uncomfortable, and made several false attempts to start before finally saying, "I'm no good at telling stories."
    "Don't worry yourself," Jonah laughed. "I'll tell it. Hawkins' version would be biased, so you don't want it."
    "Hey!" Hawkins protested, openmouthed. "It wouldn't be biased!"
    Tedaz chuckled, staring at his food. "After seeing the way you were looking at her last night, I'd say maybe."
    This forbidden topic brought on an uncomfortable silence, which Jonah hurried to break. "Lieutenant Almory rose through the ranks pretty quickly. She's a real soldier, unlike us, and she strikes like a cobra with her twin blades, which she always keeps handy, if you've noticed. Apart from Tames and Gearbox, the rest of us were part of the squad they reassigned her to command, almost as a bizarre form of punishment.
    "During her impressive tour of duty, she attained the rank of admiral, which she soon resigned from – she couldn't stand a desk job. Back at captain, she remained there for a long time, up until about three years ago. Her superiors ordered her to sacrifice her squad as a diversion, so Parasol could take back the region. She knew if she openly refused, they'd just send someone else, so she said nothing to them and tried to create the diversion on her own."
    "She disobeyed?" John asked, unimpressed.
    Jonah held up his hands over his empty plate. "You haven't heard all of it yet," he chuckled. "She couldn't stand to lose her people, and though her diversion might've been a success, she would've died. It would've worked, but her superiors demoted her as a result of her disobeying orders."
    "It was Tames that saved her," Katie pitched in.
    Nodding, Jonah went on, "Yes it was. Tames was of the opinion that her diversion wouldn't work, and betrayed her trust to save her life, and, as he thought, the life of her squad, which he was part of. He was the one who reported her. We all owe him a great debt of gratitude. Without him, we wouldn't have our Captain. We still call her 'Captain' out of respect. "
    "You're all very close..." John said wonderingly, almost as if he felt it contradictory.
    "We are at that," Trebor said, thumping him on the back as he walked back to his seat. "Not many squads are like this. Oh, and Reudh, you'll be pleased to hear that Lurit's awake, eating, and healthy. He should be up tomorrow, but he won't be moving today."
    "Like hell I won't!" a voice roared from the doorway. It was Lurit himself, using a metal pole as a makeshift crutch as he wobbled forwards unsteadily. "I'm fit as a lute, just missing a foot!" His eyes shifted around and finally came to rest on Katie. "Hey, Reudh, boy, is this your girl? Fits the description. Pretty little thing, ain't she?"
    I leaned out from behind Katie to get a better look at him.
    "Whoa, I'm seeing double!" he exclaimed, clutching at the wall. "Doc, maybe you better get me back to bed..."
    Trebor was already to him. "Armok's beard... Come on, let's go! The drugs I gave you are making you unsteady, and you're still suffering from severe blood loss."
    "We're in the blood plains, aren't we?" Lurit roared. "Leave a few mugs outside and gimme some of that!"
    Trebor carefully helped him turn around. "That's from a different species, and it's the wrong blood type besides. I get the feeling you're more hot-blooded than most."
    "Like hell I am!" the heavyset man shouted. "Whoa, doc... Steady the walls for me, will you?"
    Trebor turned his head towards us. "Could I please get some help? He'll have to regenerate most of his blood on his own; I don't have any remaining in storage. There was a plague of wounded a couple months ago, and it's all used up."
    Strohe, Reudh and Tedaz jumped up from their chairs and rushed over, helping Trebor lead Lurit back to the infirmary.

☆

[Talvieno]

Chapter 41: Biomech
You're forced to skip over several pages of meaningless scribbles, but Vanya's narrative continues without pause.
   
    The rest of breakfast passed uneventfully, though everyone was still in good spirits. "It's the food," Katie told me. "A good meal works wonders sometimes. Have you ever wondered why so many marriage proposals are during or after a good meal? The quality of the food opens people up – it makes them more confident and puts them in a good mood."
    "You're pretty enthusiastic about food," I noted.
    She started to laugh, but a ray of darkness stole across her face, and she hesitated. "I always cooked for my grandmother," she said quietly, glancing away. "She didn't know how to cook."
    "I don't know how to cook either," I offered. It seemed to be the wrong thing to say, but Katie brushed it away.
    "Finish your food," she whispered. "Casting spells is hard to do on an empty stomach."

    After she'd finished eating, Katie left the mess hall with two full trays of food, passing Almory on her way out.
    "Agent Carena," the lieutenant called to me from the doorway, "You need to get started on Gearbox. Come with me."
    I left my seat, following her out the door and ignoring the "See ya, Hotlips" that I heard behind me.

    Almory led me down the trench in the same direction as Katie had led me the night before, taking the first set of stairs on the right, towards the computer rooms. She turned at the first entrance, leading me down a short underground hallway with doors on either side. We weren't far below the surface, but it's hard to tell that sort of thing underground unless you're a dwarf. Abruptly, Almory stopped and turned to me with narrowed eyes.
    "I'm putting the lives of everyone in my squad in your hands, Sleeper. I've never done that for anyone before, and especially not an elf."
    "Sir, my being an elf doesn't mean anything!" I said, trying my best to rein my anger in. "I can do anything dwarves can do, and just as well!"
    She glowered at me, grinding her teeth. "Dwarves don't eat their enemies," she spat out hatefully.
    That ticked me off. "With all due respect, sir, I don't eat people, either. I wish I was a dwarf; there's nothing good about being an elf." Too late, I remembered Hawkins’ warning about being more careful around her.
    She stepped forwards angrily. I shrank back fearfully, but she only backed me against a wall, holding her face close to mine and snarling. "If I lose even one person, Sleeper..." she left the threat hanging, open for my imagination to do with it as it would.
    "What about Parasol, sir?" I asked, more cautiously this time. "If we do nothing, Ballpoint gains access to the portal, and with that, Ballpoint will try to destroy Parasol completely. Mr Frog taught me that portals keep logs of all places they've linked to... if Ballpoint manages to access those, Parasol won't stand a chance."
    "One person, Sleeper," Almory said again, scowling. "I'd better not lose even one." She backed away, turning and continuing down the corridor, muttering under her breath about elves.
    I was seething. I hated my heritage enough already, without someone having to rub it in my face. I called after her, "What if it saves the lives of everyone in Parasol?" She didn't respond, and like a fool, I kept prodding. "Who are you really fighting for, Lieutenant Almory? Are you fighting for Parasol, or yourself and your 'family'?"
    That stopped her. She spun on her heel; her face contorted with rage as she drew her swords and marched back towards me. Their blades glinted cruelly in the dim light. I bit my lip at the sight, starting to back away. I was sure I was going to die.
    When she reached me, she flung me against the wall and swung a sword at my throat in one smooth motion. I didn't even have a chance to react, and cried out in fear. She glared at me vehemently, panting with fury, holding the cold metal steady against my neck.
    "I've already lost my family," I whispered, swallowing involuntarily and feeling the blade bite into my skin. "I don't have anyone left. I lost her saving the lives of two dwarves. Two, not millions. She didn't deserve death..."
    Something happened... Her expression softened; her gaze seemed to shift beyond me for a moment, and I thought I saw her eyes glimmer with moisture. Suddenly, the lieutenant looked back at me hesitantly, setting her jaw. "We won't speak of this again," she said quietly, sheathing her swords and turning away.
    I swallowed again, glad I was still alive, and followed her down the hallway to the door at the end.
    "He's in there," Almory said, gesturing with a nod, and then she left. I followed her with my eyes as she walked to the end of the hallway and turned from view. I stood there for a moment, wondering what I’d said that had saved my life, but I eventually gave up and opened the door.

    The place was a mess. Boxes of electronic and mechanical equipment lay here and there, scattered and piled haphazardly throughout the room. For a while, that by itself kept my attention – it was as much a wonderland for the inquisitive mind as Mr Frog’s laboratory. I felt like a child in a toyshop, peeking into all the boxes and seeing what parts I recognized. Finally, I straightened, looking around for Gearbox, whom I soon found, leaned against the wall in the far corner of the room.
    It was the first "biomech" I'd ever seen, even in pictures. The first thing that struck me was how impressive and powerful he looked. He was bigger than even Saemin: he was well over six feet tall, with huge metallic muscles. I guess the best way to describe it was that he was like a walking tank. He wore armor everywhere, even at the joints, all painted in Parasol's colors: white with black trim and sky-blue detailing.
    "Aw, great!" he moaned. He had a very gravelly voice. "They sent a girl?!"
    I jumped, startled, and looked closer. His helmet had split down the sides and tilted open, revealing a young man's face, topped with greasy orange hair. Next to him was a tray of food, the same we'd had for breakfast.
    "Aw, wonderful, you scare easy!" he said, rolling his eyes and trying to pick up his fork with clumsy, armored fingers. "I can't believe they trusted you to go poking around my insides."
    I swallowed, still shaken up a bit from the ordeal in the hallway, and asked, "Do you know what the problem is?"
    He groaned again, shaking his head amidst the muffled whir of electric motors. "They didn't even bother telling you? Aw, this is just great. And a girl, to top it off! A girl who doesn't know anything."
    "I'm going to fix you," I assured him, stepping farther into the room and starting to look around for tools I could use. I found several soldering irons and a galvanometer, and picked them up, carrying them in one arm. "I just need to know what's wrong. I can't fix you if I don't know, and I don't know how long I have."
    Gearbox sighed and shoved a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth, muttering about "stupid bioparts". It was comical to see such a large man trying to eat with such a small spoon. "Fine," he muttered, intentionally talking through a mouthful, "Here you go." With that, his legs started humming, and the armor on each leg split down the front, soon beginning to expand and fold outwards, revealing two very human-looking knees. The armor continued to fold away until I could see all of his legs and feet.
    "Is that all?" I asked.
    "That's as much as you're getting," he said, glaring at me suspiciously.
    I sighed. "You're going to have to trust me," I told him. "Can you move your legs at all?"
    "Oh yeah, of course I can!" he said sarcastically. "No, everything here is fine! No issues at all."
    "Okay, I guess not..." I carefully knelt beside him, watching him out a corner of my eye, just in case he would try something. His legs seemed to be half biological, and half machine: metal plates protruded here and there from beneath pale skin; wires spouted from an assortment silvery rods inserted into his muscles.
    Gearbox groaned and said derisively, "When you're done staring longingly at my legs, do you think you could, oh, I don't know... Fix me?"
    I shot him an annoyed glance. "If you cooperate, Martin."
    Without warning, he slammed a fist down on the ground so hard I felt it shake, and I fell over. Somewhere beneath us, Trebor yelled faintly, "Hey, watch it, latrines aren't supposed to cave in on you!"
    I steadied myself and looked up at Gearbox in fear.
    "Don't ever call me that, woman," he warned under his breath, shooting me a death glare. "I hate that name. Don't think bein’ pretty’ll help you get away with it."
    I nodded fearfully. "Okay, Gearbox, then. I didn't know."
    "Damn straight," he muttered.

    After an hour or two of searching and studying, most of which we spent in silence, I spoke up. "I found the problem."
    Gearbox had closed his helmet back after he was done with breakfast, concealing his face. His voice echoed with a metallic ring, and sounded like it was coming through a speaker. "Really, now?" he said loudly. "An elf that's good with electronics? Seems kinda hard to believe."
    "A routing circuit is burned, two burst capacitors are blown, two of your resistor modulators are disconnected, and..." I frowned worriedly.
    "Spit it out, girl!" he boomed.
    I paused uneasily. "I've never worked on anything like this before, so I don't know much for sure, but... there's a lot of other stuff in there that doesn't look right... some of your gears are stripped, and I could replace them, but I think they would work better if I put them in a different way." I looked up at him, asking for permission with my eyes.
    "Aw, go on and do whatever you want," he said, shaking his head dejectedly. "It's not like you could make it any worse than it already is."
    "Thank you," I said quietly, and began to dig around through the boxes nearby for supplies.

    It took me the rest of the morning, and a little of the afternoon, but I finished repairing him. Gearbox complained every few minutes about how long I was taking, and I kept telling him that he shouldn’t mind because he just sat in there and did nothing all day anyway. Eventually, he just started making actual conversation as I worked. He was a bit of a talker: I learned that he liked fighting, but he hadn't known what he was getting into when he offered himself for a biomechanical operation.
    "It's not the battle, and all," he boomed as I snapped a new kinetic memory chip in, "It's the people, see? They all see you and they go, 'Aw, you're a biomech! You can do anything!' But then they won't let you do anything, see? 'Aw, you’re a biomech! Give it back, you'll break it! '  It's like they don't trust you 'cause of what you are, and it really stinks. "
    "I get that too," I said, nodding.
    "It's like... It's like..." He paused, lost for words.
    "Prejudice?" I prompted, trying to help.
    He shook his head. "Naw, it's more like they judge you before they know anything about you."
    I tried not to laugh.
    "Hey, what's so funny?"
    I shook my head, smiling as I soldered a resistor into position. He may have been a sarcastic jerk, but he seemed a likable one, at least. "They don't do that in Spearbreakers."
    "Yeah, I've heard of that place... They get battles pretty frequently there, don't they?"
    "Mhm."
    "Yeah..." He scratched his "beard" with metal fingers, and it made a raspy sound. "I think I might go there someday, you know? Sounds like my kinda place. They got any good beer?"
    I actually laughed that time. "Yes, they call it 'Spearbreakers Bitters'," I told him. "I doubt you've ever had anything as strong."
    "Well, hey now," he said, giving a metallic laugh, "I've had some pretty rough drinks in my day. Bet I could beat you in a drinking contest, too, lady." He laughed raucously again. "No offense to you, of course."
    "Vanya," I corrected him gently. "Call me Vanya, or V. You can close your armor back now, and try testing out your legs..."
    "Sure thing."
    I took a cautious step away and crossed my fingers behind my back, where he couldn't see, praying that it would work.
    With his armor sealed back, he lifted first one leg, and then the other, bending each knee back and forth carefully. "Hey, what do you know, it works! Thanks, V!"
    Suddenly, a roaring fire burst out from behind him. I gasped, looking around desperately for something that could put it out. "No, no, no!" I shouted, panicking. "What's happening?! I only worked with your legs!"
    "It's fine," he laughed, quickly righting himself. "It's just jets; easier to get up that way." He turned them off and stood on his feet, bending forwards and looking at his legs. Then, suspensefully, he took a few unsteady steps.
    "Does it work?" I asked.
    He looked up at me and nodded before jumping forwards. The ground shook as he landed, but he didn't seem to care. "It works great!" he laughed. "Aw, yeah, this is just what I needed!" He walked over and put a heavy hand on my shoulder, turning me around and leading me towards the door. "You know, for an elf, or even for a human, you're pretty good with electromechanics."
    I didn't often receive compliments like that. "Thanks," I said softly, smiling, "I was taught by the best."
    "Aw, I bet," he said loudly, ducking under the top of the doorway as we left the room. "Let's go see the Captain and see what she thinks, yeah?"

    Walking beside a biomech was more amazing than I can describe. Even without actually being in the suit, it feels powerful... The heavy metal legs, every piece of which you know you could never hope to lift, move themselves in graceful array, turning the very motions of walking itself into art. You can feel every step through the vibrating ground, and you know that while the biomech – part human, part machine – could crush a rock between its fingers, he's gentle enough to eat with a spoon. Strong but gentle... isn't that what many girls dream about? And the whole time, you know that he’s on your side... You feel as though you walk among the gods.

    But then his loud, staticky, gravelly voice breaks through the dream and ruins it all.

    "C'mon, V! Let's go find the Captain!" Gearbox called out, jumping off the second-story ledge and landing at the base of the trench. He turned, and with heavy steps, he rushed forwards towards the armory. I ran after him down the stairs, struggling to keep up. He was fast; it was only seconds before he was at the end of the trench, opening the armory door and ducking beneath the frame, calling out to the captain jubilantly. I heard the sound of gunshots echoing from within, and it wasn't long before I figured out why.

    The armory was impressive. There were shelves of weapons, bins of armor, and cases of jetpacks and other equipment I didn't recognize. At one end, dug even farther into the hard earth, there was a firing range. Lieutenant Almory stood at the near side, supervising Jonah and John as they tried to teach Reudh, Tedaz, and Strohe to fire plasguns. Fiery white shots hissed through the air with blinding speed towards the humanoid targets at the other end, but they usually missed.
    "There's no recoil," John said, pacing back and forth behind them and watching. "It's not affected by gravity, either. It's simple – point and shoot!"
    "These are nothing but tracer rounds," Jonah added, chuckling. "They're slightly more accurate than regular plasma, not being affected by temperature warp."
    "But I expect recoil!" Reudh said, firing several more shots at the target dummies. "Even crossbows have recoil!"
    "This is better than a crossbow!" Tedaz laughed, firing several shots himself, all but one hitting his mark.
    Abruptly, a dwarven figure obscured my view of the target range. "Gearbox is doing better than before he malfunctioned. What did you change?" the lieutenant inquired, with the slightest hint of approval.
    With an effort, I forced my thoughts back to the present. "I... There were some things that didn't look right, and I fixed what looked broken."
    She nodded. "You did well."
    "Thank you, sir," I responded, looking behind her at my friends. "You're teaching Reudh's people how to fight with guns?"
    "I want them to be useful if we need them to be," she said. "They don't really possess any useful weapon skills right now. I don't consider the natives' weapons to be of any value."
    "What about your swords?" I asked. "Are they different?"
    A gentle smile creased Almory's face, and she drew one out of its sheath with her right hand, holding it out to me. "Take it," she ordered. Hesitantly, I did so, watching her face. For some reason I found it difficult to trust her.
    The sword looked like any other, for the most part. The hilt seemed to be meteoric iron, with different plates embedded here and there in its surface. The blade was even more unusual, with lines traced in its silvery alloy that reminded me of electric circuits.
    "It looks a little different," I said cautiously, "But I don't understand. How is it special?"
    "Swing it," Almory suggested.
    I did, carving a sweeping arc through the air. As it moved, it seemed to vibrate in my hand with a buzzing sensation, but when it slowed, it left me wondering if I'd imagined it. Confused, I did it again, and felt the same thing. "It vibrates," I observed, passing it back to her, "but only when it moves."
    She gave a nod of pride and waved her weapon about slowly, watching it. "Quantic vibrations," she explained. "When it moves through space, quantum discrepancies cause the weapon to flux at the molecular level. Swinging has the same effect as drawing the blade across the target. It has no effect on my sheath because the sheath itself projects a secondary dimension," she added, sheathing it.
    "It's a beautiful weapon," I said, envying her a little. On a whim, I drew out one of my daggers and held it out to her atop my open palm. "These are mine."
    The lieutenant tilted her head curiously. "Where did you get these?" she asked, as she lifted it to her eyes, closely studying the hilt.
    "They're vampiric blades," I explained, a little proud of them. "They used to belong to a friend of mine."
    "Show me the other one."
    I drew it from its sheath and held it out to her, and she took it silently, comparing them. "You know where vampires came from, don't you?" she asked suddenly.
    I nodded. I'd heard the story many times. "They grew from the bloodlust of the warriors that tried to defeat the Holistic Spawn," I recalled.
    Almory shook her head roughly. "An old wives' tale," she said negatively. "Vampires were a Parasol experiment. Ballpoint attacked, and they breached containment."
    "Not true," John said from beside us, and we looked up at him. I hadn't even known he was there. "It was Ballpoint's experiment, and they weren't tough enough for us, so we threw them out."
    Shifting her gaze back to my daggers, Almory admitted, "I've heard both stories. Still, these blades are vampiric, and they're missing their power source. Did you ever remove a power crystal from them? It would resemble the eye of a snake."
    I shook my head. "I've never seen anything like that."
    "I'll see if we have any replacements," she stated. I nodded in assent, and she walked past me, opened the door, and left.
    Taking a step closer to John, I asked, "Where are the scythods?"
    He frowned. "They're taking a break from digging. They've already gotten most of it dug out; Saemin and some of the others are working on carrying away the dirt so they can continue."
    "How well do you think they'd do with a plasgun?" I asked. I had a feeling they'd do amazingly, if they could hear their target.
    A mischievous grin stole over my friend's expression. "I don't know... with four hands and their keen sense of hearing... if they could hear their target, I bet they'd do brilliantly. I think I'm going to find out." Without another word, he rushed past me into the trench, calling out loudly in Scythod.
    "Have you eaten yet, Vanya?" Jonah called from the shooting range. Reudh seemed to be getting more accurate with his weapon.
    "Not yet," I said. "Is there lunch?"
    The dwarf chuckled. "Only the most delicious lunch you'll ever eat on this god-forsaken planet. Hurry over to the mess hall – Katie saved some for you."

    Our chances were looking better all the time.

☆

[Talvieno]

Chapter 42: Magic
As you continue, you find runes scrawled across the margins – runes you've never seen before.  You hope they aren't anything important, and continue reading.

    After a quick lunch, Katie took me up to our room, eager to teach me the skills I was supposed to learn. After coming in from outside, the barracks seemed dark, while in reality they were well lit, only dim.

    "Do you actually know magic?" I asked uncertainly. Despite the almost fairylike quality to Katie's personality, it seemed a little hard to believe.
    She didn't reply, but gave me a playful smile and spun around, laughing prettily as she danced farther away, swinging her arms gracefully about her. Then, she slowed to a stop, facing me, and let her arms fall to her sides. "Winteos, diovaang liagen!" she called out. For a moment, nothing happened.
    Suddenly, I gasped. Feathery light blossomed from her shoulders, curved and bent to form ethereal wings. The ceiling and floor about her glowed softly as the wings wavered gently in the air, almost as if touched by an unfelt wind.
    "Winteos, taunke!" she called out again, and the wings dissipated, seeming to dissolve into nothingness.
    "What was that?" I asked breathlessly.
    She laughed. "Magic," she said, grinning impishly, and twirled away. "You've never seen real magic before, have you?"
    "I've seen zombies raised by necromancers," I offered.
    Katie stopped suddenly, growing serious. "That's a different kind of magic. It comes from the demons that reach out from the depths. Every world has an evil side; sometimes it's an alternate dimension, sometimes it's physical. That's black magic. My kind of magic draws power from the gods."
    "How did you learn?"
    She motioned me closer, sitting down on the edge of her bunk. "Ever since I was little, I've entered in the annual jetpacking competitions that Parasol holds. It's really fun, but kinda hard, too."
    I sat down across from her. "You use the 'wings' spell in the competition? Does it help you fly?"
    Katie laughed and shook her head quickly. "Yes, but I can't fly. Some spells let you, but I learned everything I know from my grandmother, and she only taught me the 'guiding wings' one. We're allowed to use magic in competitions, and she said she wanted to help me."
    "Can you teach it to me?" I asked hopefully, though I didn't know how the wings would help.
    "It takes a long time to learn," she said regretfully. "I'll have to start at the beginning. I don't think you'll have time to learn it today."
    I nodded with disappointment.
    Leaning back, Katie propped herself up with her hands. "Every spell has two parts," she began. "The first part is the name of your god. Mine is 'Winteos', Parasol's god of mystery. You have to be careful with the god you choose. The more your god likes you, the better your spell casting is, and the more you can cast before they stop granting your spells."
    "What's the second part of the spell?" I asked curiously.
    Katie shook her head. "No, no, you're going too fast! Slow down. What's your god? We have to know that first. It's not good to switch between gods a lot, they get jealous."
    "Can I use Winteos?" I asked.
    "No, that's a Parasol god. He doesn't even know you."
    I frowned. "How is a Parasol god in Everoc?"
    This question stopped her for a moment, and she answered slowly, as if recalling something she'd heard said long before. "If I'm not wrong... When Parasol came to Everoc, their gods could pass over into Everoc, too... and Everoc's gods into Parasol. But... they fight sometimes. The timewar is as much a war between the gods as it is a war between companies." She looked at me insistently. "You have to choose the right god, and it can't be one that hates you. The spell might backfire. Do you know of one that might like you?"
    I shook my head. "I never –"
    "Think about it," she pleaded. "I don't want you to die while I'm teaching you. This is important."
    Sighing, I thought back over the course of my life. Despite how often I prayed to the gods, I couldn't remember a time when any one of them had visibly helped me.
    "Which ones do you pray to?" Katie asked. "Maybe that will help. Which one do you pray to the most?"
    "Tetoth, the god of orphans; Akam, the goddess of serendipity, and... Armok."
    Katie frowned disapprovingly, staring at me as if I was nuts. "The god of blood."
    "Yes." I nodded. "I didn't always, but... ever since I... Ever since..." trailing off, I stopped. The memory wasn't one I wanted to recall, but at Katie's prodding, I went on. "There was a jade spearhead," I said slowly, picking up the one Urist had sent me off the floor at my feet from where I'd tossed it the night before. "Urist and I were lost in the caverns below Spearbreakers, and it glowed with light, leading us back to the fortress. Urist told me it was Armok's doing."
    Her eyes widened slightly, and she nodded quickly. "Armok, then. We'll try with Armok first."
    I cringed. I would rather have cast with the goddess of serendipity.
    Katie didn't notice, and went on. "All gods, in every universe, use the same language: the Diavallen. It's because there's a 'creator God' that made all of them, when he made the universes. While all gods know the languages of their people, you can only cast with Diavallen. Every spell is multiple words of it, like 'deovaang liagen'. You say the god name, and then the spell."
    "How do you become good at a spell?" I asked curiously.
    "Three things: practice, your god's favoring you, and willpower. It's important you don't use spells too often, or your god will start to get annoyed with you. Praying helps with that." She jumped to her feet. "Okay, are you ready?"
    I put the spearhead into my pouch and nodded, standing and walking to the middle of the room. "I'm ready."
    "I'm going to teach you 'Shield of Wind'. The Captain says you need it strong enough to deflect bullets."
    She might as well have shot me with one. "Deflect bullets?!"
    Katie nodded solemnly. "She told me the rest of your plan this morning, and I'm not letting you go out there unless you're at least as good as I am! It's not one I've practiced much with, but... We'll practice until you're good enough."
    Though afraid, I was eager to learn. "What do I do?"
    "You call Armok's name, and then call out, 'vendi scild'. That's the spell: 'Shield of Wind'. But not yet!" she added in a rush, stopping me. "You have to hold your hands the right way."

    It took some time, but I finally got my stance arranged the way she wanted. "Shield of Wind is a hand-oriented spell. If your hands move from their position, the shield can go away. Powerful mages can hold their hands wherever they want, but since you're just learning, you should hold your hands the easiest way."
    It felt awkward. I was holding my hands as if I was pushing a heavy object in front my head. "Can I try it now?" I asked impatiently. Although I wanted to learn magic, I didn't want to wait. We'd used up at least an hour already.
    "Okay, go," she nodded, stepping back.
    "Armok, vindi scild," I called. Nothing happened.
    "You're saying it wrong," she sighed. "Let's practice just the Diavallen, okay?"

    After another hour of practice, during which I became pretty frustrated, I finally satisfied my tutor.
    "You have to get the intonations correct. It's not like Dwarven," she kept saying. "You have to say it loudly and firmly, but the intonations have to be perfect."

    "Okay, go," Katie said again.
    I took a deep breath. "Armok, vendi scild!" I called out, closing my eyes to calm myself. I heard a rushing noise, and felt a strange feeling... almost as if I was underwater. I could breathe, but it felt as if I was holding an ethereal breath with ethereal lungs. It felt... majestic... powerful... It felt magical.
    "Oh my gods!" Katie exclaimed, clapping her hands excitedly. "Look! Silly, open your eyes!"
    I did, slowly raising my eyelids with anticipation.
    A domed shield hovered before me, reaching from floor to ceiling. It was largely transparent, but ribbons of white light faded in and out, stretching from the center to the edge. Tiny sparks flickered erratically across it like lightning, their color a deep, dark red – Armok's color. I could see my friend through it, beaming with pride.
    "It's beautiful," I whispered, awestruck. "I feel... strange... Like my breath is being pulled from me."
    "That's 'mana'," Katie explained, all but bouncing on her toes with excitement. "It is like holding your breath – you can only cast a spell for so long before you need to take a break. Practice helps." Suddenly, she grabbed a pillow from a nearby bunk and threw it at me. When it collided, I could feel the impact; it felt like it was drawing even more of my breath from me, and I felt the slightest push on my arms. The pillow bounced harmlessly off the shield and fell to the floor. "Look!" she laughed. "It works!"
    As she sat to put the pillow back on the bed, I 'let go', moving my hands. With a soft "whoosh", the shield disappeared, and slowly, the breathless sensation began to go away.
    "That was amazing!" I said, sitting down. "It felt so..."
    Katie nodded knowingly. Then, her jaw dropped, and she pointed a quavering finger at my waist.
    "What's wrong?" I asked, and looked where she was pointing. What I saw nearly stunned me with dread and wonder: through one of the pouches at my belt, Urist's spearhead was glowing with an eerie, green shine. Hesitantly, I took it out and looked at it. Katie walked quickly over and sat down beside me, and together we read the minute, glowing runes that had appeared upon its surface:
    Vanya, my favored daughter... Your struggles amuse me. Fight well, my conduit.
    After several minutes passed, Katie wrenched her gaze away from it and looked at me. "You'll cast with Armok from now on," she whispered.
    I nodded in agreement, speechless.
    After a solemn moment, Katie leapt to her feet and walked to the middle of the room. "Come on, let's try again," she said eagerly. "We'll have to stop and pray soon, but we can keep going for a little while."
    I felt amazed, putting the spearhead reverently back into my pocket. I got up, putting my back to the door and getting ready.

    Armok had talked to me. He sent me a message – me, Vanya Carena, the little elven skulker hiding among dwarves. The girl who used to run. The girl who used to be afraid of everything. Me.
    I felt loved... even if it was a bit weird how Armok chose to explain it: "Your struggles amuse me." I guess that's typical of him, though.
    It made me feel special.

~~~
 
    "Armok, vendi scild!"
    Katie stood at the other side of the room, standing with legs spread apart and rotated, her hands clawed behind her shoulders. "Winteos, magia arril!" she called. Her hands glowed with lavender light, and she flung them forwards as if she was throwing a ball. Two magical lights rushed across the room, shattering against the horizontal dome before me with a flash. I felt my shield weaken, but I held it, willing it to stay strong.
    "Winteos, magia arril!" she called again, and moments later, two more purple spheres crashed into my shield. "You're getting better!" Katie laughed.
    We'd been practicing for what seemed like hours, taking breaks to pray every so often. I was exhausted, but Katie insisted that I had to have it as strong as possible.
    She planted her feet firmly on the ground in a different stance, and called, "Winteos, wimir stoirmas!" As I watched, the air whirled about her icily, streams of lavender lightning arcing from the metal bed frames around her towards her outstretched hands. She closed her eyes, straining with the effort, and I braced myself for whatever she was doing. I'd never seen her use 'wimir stoirmas' before, and had no idea what it would do.
    She thrust her arms forwards with a sudden motion. The temperature around me dropped, frigid air blinding me as it swirled past; shards of ice whistled as they shot through, my spell bending their paths just enough to keep them from slicing me to pieces. I felt my mana draining rapidly, so rapidly that I began to feel dizzy. I almost fell backwards from the force of it all.
    "Stop!" I cried out weakly. "Please, stop!"
    Katie lowered her arms, and I collapsed to the floor, panting, barely catching myself with my hands.
    She rushed towards me, scrambling to my side. "Vanya? Vanya?" she asked in a worried panic, her voice taking on emotion. "Did I hurt you? Are you okay? Oh, gods, if I hurt you, I'll never forgive myself..."
    I forced myself over onto my back, looking up at her worried face with a weak smile. "I'm okay, Katie," I told her, laughing softly. I closed my eyes, wiping at my forehead with the back of my hand. "What was that spell you just did?"
    "Winter Storm. I'm sorry; I wanted to see how you would do against it. I didn't realize it was so strong – it's my favorite, but I've never cast it at anyone before." She looked about ready to cry. "Are you sure you're not hurt?"
    For a moment, it brought to mind a memory. It was of the barracks at the mountainhome: my sister had hit me with her training sword, and I hadn't managed to block it... she'd done the same thing. "You remind me of my sister," I said softly.
    Katie seemed uncomfortable, and looked away, getting up and pulling me to my feet.
    "I'm fine," I finally answered, brushing off my armor. "I'm just tired, that's all."
    "Are you sure?"
    I nodded, motioning for her to go back to the other side of the room. "Mhm. Do it again; I'll see if I can hold it this time."
    Unsure, she hesitated, but finally went over. "Okay, ready," she said, waiting for me to start.
    "Armok, vendi scild!" The now-familiar shield formed in front of me, glowing and pulsating with Armok's power.
    Across the room, Katie readied herself, putting herself in a firm stance as she watched me closely.
    I braced myself with my feet, concentrating. Armok, help me, I prayed.
    "Winteos, wimir stoirmas!" she called, and again the air whirled around her, frosting over as it spun, lightning sparking from the metal around her.
    As she thrust her arms forwards, myriads of icy, crystal shards flew forth at incredible speeds, sparking crimson and lavender as they entered the magical dome, deflected even farther than before. I watched in awe as they turned aside, some of them splintering before they even had a chance. Purple lightning from her hands writhed across the surface of my shield, crackling with power. The display of light was beautiful... it was like watching fireworks, while knowing that you made them.
    After about thirty seconds, she stopped, breathless, closing her eyes in exhaustion. I let my arms fall limp to my side as the shield dissolved into nothingness, as tired as she was.
    "That was so cool!" she laughed softly, raising her head. Her eyes widened as her gaze passed behind me, and her laugh stopped short. I spun around to see what she was looking at, and the smile faded from my face.

    Several feet from either side of the door, multitudes of icy shards had embedded themselves deep within the dirt walls, but what drew my attention the most was the fact that Lieutenant Almory was standing in the doorway, my daggers in her hand. Behind her, soft lights illuminated the inside of the trench, the night sky above speckled with stars.
    "That was impressive," Almory said finally. "Katalina, you taught her well. And that spell you were casting seemed especially effective," she added, examining at the icy wall to her left with a critical eye.
    Katie smiled weakly. "Thank you, Captain," she said, basking in the praise.
    Almory held my daggers out to me. "Agent, here are your daggers. I think you'll find them somewhat more useful now."
    I took them, thanking her, and immediately noticed the little golden spheres in the hilt: they looked just like the eyes of snakes.
    "Katalina, come with me," she ordered, turning away and leaving.
    As she passed by me, Katie squeezed my hand, and we shared a smile. "Thank you," I said.
    "Always," she whispered, and left.
    I watched her for a moment as she ran down the stairs, following the lieutenant, and then looked back down at my daggers, shifting one to each hand. As I gripped them, the latticework seemed to hum, laced with a blue light that seemed to coil itself about the hilt and blade. Finally, I slipped them into the sheaths at my waist and left the barracks, walking aimlessly down the stairs and through the trench.

    "Aw, keep up, you guys!" I heard Gearbox boom. Looking up, I saw him standing on a ledge, lifting one side of the turret and walking slowly backwards. On the other, Reudh's party, Trebor, Saemin and Hawkins were struggling to make pace.
    "You're half machine, if I dare say so!" Reudh exclaimed, panting. "It’s far more difficult for us, without having metal limbs! It’s dark and hard to see as it is!"
    "Aw, it's not that different!" Gearbox laughed. "And there's seven of you, too!" I caught his eye, and he glanced over at me. "Hey, you! V! Look at me now! Better than new, yeah?"
    I laughed, beaming with happiness. "I added a lot!" I called up. "You're doing great so far!" I continued down the trench, though I still heard them talking behind me.
    "Don't I know it!" Gearbox boomed. "I can't wait until we're done with this, though, I'm getting hungry."
    Hawkins groaned, stumbling under his corner. "You eat as much as Saemin."

    I reached the armory door, opening it and going inside. The scythods were at the firing range, wielding four plasguns each: one in each armscythe tip, one in each claw-hand. At the end of the range was a humanoid figure, dressed in black armor. It stayed at the far end, dashing about at unbelievable speeds, running up the walls and flipping off the ceiling, changing directions rapidly and smoothly.
    "Vanya!" Jonah called me over. "You'll never believe it!"
    I walked over to him. "What's going on?"
    "Do you see the robotic target?" he asked rhetorically, pointing towards the jumping man. "Watch." In scythod, he said "Start". Immediately, the scythods began firing rapidly, projectiles hissing through the air, every shot hitting the target's head and exploding in a shower of sparks. No matter how it jumped or dodged, they hit the mark every time.
    I gasped, covering my mouth with a hand. Despite my strong dislike of guns, I couldn't deny that it looked amazing.
    "I've never seen anything like it, Vanya," Jonah chuckled, shaking his head. "Your friend, John, taught me some basic phrases in their language, and we've been training for the past hour or so... but they didn't even need it. They can hear where their target is, it seems. I'd love to do research on just how much they're capable of, once this is over."
    "Hopefully, you will," said a voice. I spun around and saw Almory approaching us.
    "Sir," I said respectfully.
    She nodded in recognition. "Agent, the railcannon is almost into position, and the scythods managed two underground tunnels instead of just one. Things are looking up for us. Are you ready to do your part?"
    I nodded. "I'm not sure if I can deflect bullets yet, though," I admitted, raising my voice over the sound of the plasguns. "I'm sure I can at least bend them away."
    "Katalina assures me your spells will be more effective on the battlefield," Almory said, turning to the scythods. "You can stop now," she called out.
    At this, K'bahth and Klade lowered their weapons. "I do not understand why we never used these before," Klade chattered. "They are extremely accurate at range."
    "Old tradition, Klade," K'bahth answered. "Traditions are as mountain passages: they are hard to turn from."
    Almory looked at me questioningly, wondering what they'd said.
    "They say they like the guns," I explained.
    Jonah laughed.
    The lieutenant nodded. "You need to eat and get some rest, Agent. You'll be up before the rest of us, around midnight. We’ll be up two hours later. That gives you five hours of sleep, if you hurry. Get moving."
    "Yes sir," I said, passing her and heading for the mess hall.

    Looking ahead to the job I knew I would have to do, I was terrified... but determined. It was like Urist had said: fear makes you stronger, and keeps you alive. With Armok himself on my side... I couldn't see how we could fail.

☆

[Talvieno]

An example of a megaportal, minus the controls. Art by Talvieno.
Chapter 43: The Battle Begins
When you finally reach the pale blue sheets of paper, you find that Vanya's following entry has clippings of them pasted throughout, as if she was trying to use them to help tell her story. Among the entry's pages are whole, loose sheets, and among those, the ones that had fallen out earlier.

    Supper was just as it had been the night before, except Katie sat next to Saemin this time. I found it difficult to notice anything else. They laughed, talking about everything and anything that came to mind. He listened intently to everything she said, easing her fears and telling her she would do amazingly the following day. He told her she was special to him; she kissed his cheek and they embraced.
    I envied her; I'd always wanted something like that. It ate at my heart, nagging incessantly, deflating my spirits. It had been easier when everyone around me was single, too, but now that I could see how Katie and Saemin acted together, I couldn't take my mind off it. I wanted to be single so I could avoid the pain of failure... but at the same time, I wanted love. I wanted someone to love me like Saemin did for her.
    I wanted someone I could love in return.

    After supper, outside the mess hall, I heard Jonah calling my name. I looked upwards and saw him standing at the trench's lip, twenty feet above me.
    "Vanya, come up here," he called again, and disappeared from view.
    Unsure what he wanted, I emerged from the trench via the stairs and looked around for him. It was a moonless night, as black as charcoal, except for a glow around the trench, and the twinkling stars above. As soon as I'd made out Jonah's shape, standing off to the edge of the shield, I walked over to him, picking my way around the craters, and soon reached his side.
    "Vanya, have you ever studied the stars?" he asked softly, looking skywards.
    I followed his gaze. "I've looked at them sometimes... Usually I'm underground."
    He glanced over at me, and then looked back up. "Every universe... every galaxy... every world... has a different set of stars; a completely different sky. Every sky is special."
    "What's special about ours?"
    "Everoc's star is right in the middle of a supercluster, near the center of your galaxy. You haven't even named it yet, but it's special by itself: a loose spiral." He paused, taking a few steps closer and holding his head close beside mine, pointing with his arm. "Your constellations... The Honey Badger," he said, tracing a line across a set of stars with his finger.
    I could almost see it with him: it had a bright eye and teeth, its tail a faint glitter of stars.
    Jonah lowered his arm for a moment, and then raised it again, pointing and tracing out a longer shape: "The Greatsword." Then, turning, he pointed again: "The Demon's Maw. So many constellations, and every one of them with a story behind it, passed down through the generations."
    "I can see them," I whispered, absorbed in the beauty of the heavens. "Do you know all of them?"
    "The stars?" he asked. "No one can know all of them."
    "No, the constellations," I clarified. "Nobody ever pointed them out to me like this before."
    He smiled softly. "You're a bit odd for an elf," he said.
    "And you're a bit odd for a dwarf." I smiled too, amused.
    He chuckled, leaning close again and pointing out another. "The Soldiers," he said, tracing out a set of stick figures. "Also known as 'The Sisters'."
    At this, I stepped away and eyed him suspiciously.
    Jonah pursed his lips apologetically. "Katie told me the story of your past," he explained. "There's a story behind this constellation, too. Do you see how the smaller sister is kneeling, looking towards The Demon's Maw? The taller one, on her right, is reaching an arm across the sky for The Greatsword," he said slowly, leaning close again and pointing it out with a finger. "Some dwarves say that when the world ends, the older sister will finally reach the sword, striking down the demon and banishing him, and the world will begin anew... others say that the demon will devour them both, and everything will come to an end."
    "I don't understand."
    "The world hasn't ended yet," he said softly. "There's still a chance to save your sister."
    I spun, taking a step away. "What are you talking about?" I asked, a little angrily. "She's dead!"
    "Hush," Jonah whispered urgently. "We could both get in trouble for this. Wari told me about you once, and –"
    "You knew Wari?" I interrupted, my eyes widening in surprise.
    That was as far as I got. A stern shout interrupted us, emanating from the trench. "Jonah, Agent, get back here and get to sleep! I need you well-rested!"
    Jonah gave a gentle smile, turning away and starting back, shoulders slumped, hands in his pockets. "I'll explain tomorrow," he assured me. "Goodnight, Vanya."

~~~

    "Wake up," someone was whispering, pushing me with their hands.
    I sat up quickly, unaware of my surroundings. "What?!"
    A hand clapped over my mouth. "Silence, Agent," Almory hissed. "Get dressed. Your friend is waiting for you outside."
    With that, she left the room.
    I hastily dressed myself and hurried after her, careful not to awaken Katie, who was still asleep on the bunk below me. After I was ready, I left the room.
    The trench was eerily quiet, so much that it spooked me. The railcannon was silent, for the first time since I'd gotten there, and everything was as black as ink. A tiny light-tube, capped at both ends with black plastic, rested on the floor outside the door. I picked it up, walking carefully through the darkness, shining it in my path.
    "Vanya!" someone whispered loudly from below.
    Holding the light out over the empty space, I could faintly make out a face below. "John?"
    "Yes! Hurry up! We were supposed to leave five minutes ago."
    "Okay," I whispered back, hurrying down the stairs and slowing by his side. "Where is the lieutenant?"
    Almory appeared, holding a weapon. "It's Ballpoint make," she explained, handing it to John. "We snatched it off the battlefield a while back – this is the best one we have."
    John looked it over, pulling out the cartridge and snapping it back, flipping open the barrel and examining the inside, looking in the different compartments and adjusting the viewfinder. "This'll be perfect," he said, giving Almory a nod.
    Turning, the lieutenant handed me a computer clip. "Plug this into the portal when you get there. I set it with coordinates for Parasol."
    "Yes sir," I said, putting it into an empty pouch.
    Almory folded her arms and spoke to both of us. "You have two hours to get over there. Stay out of the light, and don't move into their camp until they start emptying it out. Stick to the plan, no matter what. Understood?"
    "Yes, sir," we said together.
    She seemed to fight off a sigh. "I'm still sure this is a bad idea," Almory said regretfully, "but this is what we're going to do. I'm going to open the shield. I will open it for a total of five seconds – listen for a metallic clang. That will be the signal. Now, move," she ordered, snatching the light from my hands and switching it off.
   
    Together, John and I jogged to the end of the trench and started climbing the ladder. I followed him up, groping blindly for the cold, metal rungs. After reaching the top, he jogged ahead, holding his arms out ahead of him, feeling for the shield.
    "Found it," he whispered suddenly. I stopped by his side, and we watched the trench for the signal.
    Clang.
    "Move!" John whispered urgently, and together we rushed towards the west, out through the same path we'd entered through when we'd first arrived at the camp.
    I was praying.

~~~

A blue snip of paper is pasted here.
    In the black of night, in the depths of a Parasol trench, a commander stood before her little squad. Everyone was suited up, wearing full suits of black-camo armor and a jetpack.
    "All right, soldiers," Lieutenant Almory started, looking at the squad assembled in front of her. She didn't seem hopeful, only as determined as she'd ever been. "You all already know what's at stake here. If we don't win this battle, Ballpoint is going to open our portal, wipe us out, and take over the entire continent. I don't like making speeches, but..." She stopped for a moment, glaring at Trebor, who was snickering at this last. "I doubt we'll all make it back alive."
    "We're gonna be all right, Captain," Saemin offered in his gentle way. "Everything'll work out in the end, just like it always does." At his side, his girlfriend clung to his arm, dwarfed by his size. "Isn't that right, Katie?"
    The girl nodded, smiling. Saemin bent down, and they shared a brief kiss.
    Normally, Lieutenant Almory would have put a stop to it. This time, she let it slide, instead casting a wishful eye at Hawkins, who mouthed, "Just stay safe."
    "For Parasol," Lieutenant Almory said. The rest of her squad echoed the words: "For Parasol."
    It was a quiet moment, but full of hope.
    The lieutenant spoke again. "Katalina, disable the shields. Tames, Gearbox, Jonah... you're with me. The rest of you... get to your positions."
    "You show 'em, Captain," Katie said, smiling.
    Lieutenant Almory nodded in acknowledgement, putting on her helmet and fastening it, while everyone else did the same. With that, she pressed a button on her palm, and her jetpack activated, propelling her over the top of the trench. Jonah followed last, muttering, "I hate heights."

    "We have a few hours until sunrise," Almory said over the comm system, as her squad jogged towards the edge of the shield. "Stay low and don't use your jetpacks until we start back. You know what to do: get them angry."
    "Aw, I can't wait, Captain," Gearbox said, struggling to stay quiet. "This is gonna be fun."

~~~

Vanya's handwriting continues.
    The walk was silent, but long. Neither of us spoke: not only did we not want to give away our position, but we also didn't really have anything to say. Almory had already briefed John on my plan, as he seemed to know exactly what to do. We wound our way through rocks and boulders, keeping out of sight of Megaportal Hill.
    After a couple hours, we rounded a ridge, and finally came upon the back of the Ballpoint camp, immediately noticing that something was wrong.
    John checked his watch. "It's only 2:00," he muttered, confused. "Nothing should've happened yet."
    Though it was almost completely dark outside, I could faintly make out the outlines of abandoned tents dotting the backside of the hill... but there was no one in sight.
    "There!" John hissed, pointing. "Their vehicles, their infantry..."
    I followed his gaze to the crest of the hill, beside the megaportal... Everyone and everything Ballpoint had was readied at the top: a huge column of tanks, and row upon row of soldiers, waiting in silence.
    "It's a trap," I whispered.
    John swore, pacing briskly back and forth, staring at the ground. "That's impossible! There's no way they could've known Parasol was attacking them tonight! Unless we'd shown up, Parasol would've just kept doing their thing, sitting and waiting. It's what Ballpoint would expect."
    "Maybe the attack is coincidental," I suggested.
    "No!" John hissed, brushing past me. "I know how Ballpoint thinks. I used to be Ballpoint, remember? They'd be content to wait it out, so long as they got action when it was all over. They don't care about troops, but they do care about their equipment. Striking Parasol like this would net them more losses than they'd be willing to handle, as they would think Parasol would keep its shield up the whole time, except for the railcannon bursts."
    I followed him with my eyes. "They're not watching for us, though," I pointed out.
    "And why would they be?" he asked, cursing under his breath. "We've spent the whole day in weapons training, digging little tunnels in the ground like moles..." John stopped short, his eyes widening. "Moles..." he whispered. "Oh, no..."
 
~~~

Several blue sheets of paper are inserted here.
    "She lowered the shield," Almory radioed suddenly. "Let's move!"
    No sooner had the words left her mouth than the hill in front of them exploded with light, hundreds of muzzle flashes brightening the skyline.
    The little squad of soldiers didn't even have time to react before the ground erupted beneath them, flinging them aside.
    "Retreat!" Almory yelled, leaping to her feet as another explosion set the sky aflame. "Retreat!"
    "Sorry, Lieutenant, this is the end of the line for me," Tames said through the radio as he jetted away. "You know there's no way this could've worked."

    Everyone stood in horrified silence as it slowly sank in.
    Almory was the first to speak. "Tames?? You betrayed us?!" she screamed in fury. "How much did you tell them??"
    Without a word, Gearbox jetted after him, narrowly dodging Ballpoint's shots as he flew through the sky.
    "Gearbox, get back here!" Almory yelled. "I order you to stop!"
    "Captain, I've had enough of this!" the biomech boomed, flying off into the distance. "That bastard is going to get what he deserves, if I have anything to say about it! I'm gonna kill him, just you wait!"
    "Gearbox, now!!" she screeched, starting after him as he shrank to a tiny speck in the distance.
    Jonah grabbed her arm, pulling her back as dirt fell around them, cannon fire echoing in their ears. "Captain, it's no use!! You know how Gearbox gets!"
    Reluctantly, she nodded, watching a huge line of tanks and troops roll down the hill. Behind her, the railcannon began to roar, firing off rapid bursts of shots at the line of enemies; she watched as the projectiles hit their targets, throwing a tiny portion of Ballpoint's line into disarray.
    "We'll close the shields," Almory said quietly, adjusting her radio as she sprinted back towards the trench. "Katalina, close the shields. We're cancelling the operation."
    The voice of a terrified, panicked young woman answered her, static roaring in the background. "Captain, I can't! Something happened – as soon as I turned them off, the generator exploded! Everything's on fire, and I can't put it out!"
   
    Almory reached the edge of the trench and began shouting orders as she leapt down, level by level. "Hawk! Leave the railcannon to Saemin and see if you can get the mag-deflector started up on the emergency generator!"
    "Yes, sir!" Hawkins shouted over the din. He climbed out of the gunner's seat, sliding down the ladder to the ground. He took off running, but Saemin quickly overtook him.
    "Saemin Lo, get back here!" the lieutenant shouted.
    "I gotta save Katie, Captain!" Saemin yelled back, leaping up the steps in huge bounds.
    "I gave you an order, soldier!" Almory roared, rocketing upwards and landing in front of him. "Get back to your post NOW! Man that railcannon!"
    Saemin clenched his fists, looking furiously at her from several steps below and staring her down. She held firm, glaring at him through her visor.
    Around the trench, gunfire echoed. One end exploded in a fireball – the point where the railcannon had been only hours before crumbling to the base of the trench in a cloud of dust.

    Saemin swallowed, turning away reluctantly. "Yes sir," he said, rushing for the railcannon.
    "Good." Saying this, she turned away. As she ran up the last flight of steps, Almory paused and called out, "Jonah, get Trebor out here, and get Reudh's crew! Have everyone armed and ready!"
    "Yes, Captain!" He rushed off, just as the railcannon began firing quick bursts into the enemy lines.

~~~

Vanya's handwriting continues.
    John jumped, falling over as the hill exploded above them with the sound of a hundred cannons.
    "They're attacking," I whispered, biting my lip. "John, what do we do?"
    Getting to his feet, John shook his head roughly. "We run, that's what we do."
    I spun. "Run??" I asked. "Are you crazy? Our friends are under attack!"
    "They're not our friends!" he hissed, picking up his railgun. "We knew them for less than a week."
    I wanted to hit him. "How can you be so callous?! They need us, John!! Ballpoint doesn't know we're here, so we can still open the megaportal!"
    "As if," he muttered, scanning the horizon.
    "We can!"
    He stepped close, bearing down on me. "We can't! We don't know if Ballpoint knows we're here! Even if we surrender, Ballpoint will kill me for deserting them. There's no way to get up there."
    "The whole camp is empty!" I pointed out angrily, looking up at his face. "We won't have any problems getting through!"
    Snarling, he spat, "They have soldiers guarding the portal! What do you think you're going to do once you get up there? Kill them? Pretend to be Ballpoint? Pretty them to death?" Sighing, he began walking away, muttering curses. "It's hopeless, Vanya. You're dreaming. There's no way to save them."
    "We have to try."
    By the starlight, I saw him clench his fists, trembling with fury. He spun around to face me. "Do you know what happened last time I 'tried,' Vanya?" he growled, and his voice escalated to a near-shout. "I arranged for Ballpoint to get inside Spearbreakers! That was me, Vanya!! I'm the one who almost brought down the entire continent!"
    I shook my head, agape. "That's not possible..."
    "Think about it, Vanya!" he yelled. "Four years! I spent four years in Ballpoint! Splint's reign was only two years ago. I'm a translator – a diplomat! They wouldn't give me a position as a soldier because of my nerves! I met with Baron Splint and he agreed to let us into Spearbreakers in exchange for a little manual labor. I'm the reason Ballpoint expanded! I'm the reason Ballpoint is destroying your friends!!" He quieted, slowing his breathing, and then turned and kept walking away. "I wasn't sure about your idea before, but there's no chance of it working now."
    Staring at John, I shook my head, dumbfounded by his sudden change in demeanor. Behind us, during a lull in the gunfire, I heard an agonized scream echoing over the hills. It sounded like Katie; the thought of my friends in danger strengthened my resolve.
    "Leave, then," I said quietly, starting for the base of the hill. "I'm still going to try."

☆