The next morning, Kalyah and Niae met the four in the penthouse after breakfast. They carried the chips retrieved from the children and the lengthy explanation of the Ash Maker’s encounter with the Crow Clerics. At the dining table, Jonah looked over the implants carefully. Next to him was Diana, considering all the information as she pet her cat familiar. Having placed the dishes in the sink, Rosetta and Warren sat back down at the polished wooden table. Both were already dressed in their coats and armor for the day. Jonah’s armor had been assembled but not yet enchanted. He wore his new jeans, which combined with his heavy levithan skinned jacket made him feel more normal than he had since he got to this fantastical world.

Examining the implants, which were starkly like something from Earth, made him question the closeness of the two worlds. He felt eyes on him, and he wasn’t sure if he had the answers for them. When Kalyah was done talking about the children finding out about the implants, he was still reading and watching materials on the chip he held in his hand. The room was quiet as they waited for his opinion. Jonah’s eyes quit flashing and he set down the chip, causing it to clink in the steel tub.

“So? What do you think, Machinist?” Kalyah asked.

“Yes, we would love to hear an explanation,” Niae added.

“It looks like an RFID chip, which stands for Radio Frequency Identification,” Jonah began. “The medical implant is a fairly controversial technology on Earth. Usually someone has it embedded in their hand.” He pointed to the gap between his thumb and forefinger. “People are really afraid of it. In um, well, in one of our religions there’s this prophecy of a Mark of the Beast. That it's a sign of the end times. It talks about a number being etched into your hand or head, places the chips can be embedded. Anyway, I don’t know how it would really help the Ash Makers, it’s not supposed to be scanned except at a super close range.” He gestured to the chips. “They don’t have any kind of batteries in them, just a few bytes of information, at least on Earth.” He scratched his head. “Maybe there's a long range scanner for the chips and then they activate a teleporter, like a com badge or something. I dunno. Why are they in the wrist, not the hand and why are they broken?” He sighed. “I can’t figure that out. There’s glass on Earth that can endure almost anything. I can't tell if these are made of that without absorbing them and I'm not gonna do that.”

"You had better not," Diana commented.

“I think I can answer the implant location question,” Kalyah said, tapping the metal tray. “An Ash Maker’s magic is all in the hands and eyes.” She tapped her wrist. “If the things were in the hand, they could have cracked more easily any time they used magic. These could have gotten bashed up when they escaped the cave.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. If these things were made with magic, then they might get unenchanted. I mean, right?” Jonah continued.

Warren put his hand over the tray, golden spined vines forming around his fingers. “Yep, they were made with magic at one time,” the Captain said, his hand closing and the spell ending. “It feels a lot like your magic, Jonah.”

“Right from the Technophile herself,” Jonah said, flexing his metal hands. “She must be super smart to start making any of this.”

Rosetta was floating over the tray, peering at them. “How the hell do they bloody work?” she asked. “Radios? Is that right?”

“Something like that,” Jonah said with a shrug. “This world might have smaller batteries or longer range scanners. The satellites in space might help. The ten that died, they probably died too fast for the Technophile to receive the information. If that’s how they work, that is.”

“These teleportation machines,” Warren said with a huff, as if he had spoken complete nonsense. “Can they teleport other machines too?”

Jonah helplessly shrugged again. “I guess, a person is pretty complicated. What’s so different between metal and a human body? Or any other kind of body on this planet?” He shivered. “I don’t like the idea of teleportation on Earth. It basically kills you and reassembles a new body somewhere else. The ‘soul’ exists in theory on my planet. A lot of people don’t think it’s real…”

Into her hand, the Priestess prayed, muttering too quietly for him to hear and translate. “Well, the soul is real here,” she said, reaching across the table to touch Jonah’s hand. She gripped his wrist and up from his hand and arm rose a white wave of magic. The feeling made him tremble in a place deeper than his bones. Within an instant the magic vanished and Kalyah released him. “It’s pure and white, but it shivers a lot. A sweet, yet nervous soul.” She smiled at him. “Don’t worry, honey, it was just a peek, you’re in no danger. What I did is nothing more than a party trick. If you want something weirder, then I’d talk to the Crow Clerics.”

Diana wrapped her arm around his, easing the chill from him. “It’s a shame those ten died,” she said. “This older lady seemed important to the twins… Having the Crows as allies is good though, they are much better than the Psyin faithful here.”

Warren huffed at the mention of his fellows.

“The Psyin faithful are much older here,” Niae said with a scowl. “The years since the war have made Psyin temples more popular in other places. I do not think there is one in their temple here that did not fight in the war.” She blinked slowly. “This city is wonderful in a way, it has a port and plenty of free space to walk about. It can also be a dreadful place, one where a body can easily cut themselves off in a corner. My temple, though I am only one of three Arch Priestesses, I fight to be the former. A place of training and learning without distractions. The Psyin temple only focuses on the past and the books full of wartime horrors are well worn. With this new war, I feel many of this kingdom will simply start over the struggle they ended two hundred years before. Two centuries for an elf is not long, many can see it as you might a decade."

The room agreed with her, going quiet for a moment. Jonah knew that Diana was probably thinking the same as him. The Heroes were only against them because they couldn’t let go of past sins. To think they were blaming children for what other people did two hundred years ago. The Traveler knew quite a bit about sin and people being unable to move on.

“The Crow Clerics sent us a message, they will be here by the end of the day,” Niae said with a smile, clearing the gloom with her voice. “The twins are still sleeping for now, they need their rest as teenagers. For lunch, you should visit them, they are eager to meet their saviors. They are doing better mentally. They mourn their friends, but they have no interest in returning to the Order.”

“We will. We each still have work to do for now, I need to head up to the garden for mine,” Diana said, rising from her chair. “The chips and the passed Ash Makers are all you wished to tell us?”

Both of the healers smiled, nodding. “That’s all,” Kalyah assured her. “We need to talk to Warren when you leave, just to word the information for the army.”

The Druid glanced at the two suspiciously. Even Jonah felt they were a little too happy.

“Alright then, Rosetta will join us,” Diana said.

“Aye…” Rosetta narrowed her eyes at the three. Warren’s face was placid with military resolve, as if he was born to follow orders. He said nothing, only inclining his head to them as they left the room.

Warren wiped at his face when Kalyah and Niae finished explaining the lost souls of the Ash Makers. It was an intensely troubling thought, a theoretical machine that could steal souls. A word of it could drive temples into a panic. He didn’t know how the Raven King’s temple in Alpha were dealing with the information. It was so terrifying that Niae and Kalyah had put up a Sanctuary around them to stop Diana’s tiger from listening in from above.

“You can see why we can tell no one but you here,” Niae said, bringing out a parchment which was covered in elvish script. “This fully explains the matter, and it is signed by several Crow Clerics here and myself. I do not blame anyone receiving it for doubting the information. I hardly believe the theory myself. The Raven King’s records do not lie, ten souls cannot be snuck away by demons within a week either."

The Paladin nodded in agreement.

“I don’t want the king and queen to hear about it,” Kalyah commented. “I can’t imagine how much they’d fear for Luann’s soul. She was at rest, the Crows that tended her confirmed she was sorted to the sources of nature. It is possible for a Cleric to raise a sorted soul, it’s incredibly rare, but it’s possible. We don’t know what this machine can do, how it works. Any doubt though will drive Diana crazy.”

“I know, it will, yer right,” Warren said, taking the parchment. At the end of the table was a small circle etched into the wood. Without Wizardly training, the Paladin still required plenty of etchings to complete his more Knowledge based magic. He wrote an accompanying message, wrapping it around the official document and sealed it with wax. Running his finger along the rune, it sprang to life with a golden glow. He watched as the rolls of paper slowly vanished into the air. “My uncle will get it to the research division and hopefully avoid the Magi’s Court Mage. She's a close friend to the king, if she sees it in her duties, I hope she spares the man.”

“I still can’t figure out the reason to steal the souls,” Kalyah said, putting her fist to her chin. “A demon can spin up a new body for the soul, what can the Order do?”

Warren folded his arms. “We got limbs and parts made out of machines, like Jonah’s, what’s to stop someone assembling a whole body out of them?” he asked. “Is it any different than an automaton?”

“Oh, what a dreadful thought!” Niae said, putting her hands on her cheeks.

“It wouldn’t work, would it?” Kalyah asked in panic.

“I do not know of a heart made completely of machine parts,” Niae said, wildly shaking her head. “It would need to be strong to anchor a soul. One far stronger than the rubber tubes and valves I have seen. A soul needs to rely on the rhythms of a body to move, anything else would be a prison incapable of animation by the soul. A mere gem with an automaton around it.”

"They've done so much already, what's stoppin' 'em from tryin' it?" Warren asked.

“We can’t ask Jonah, none of them can know about this,” Kalyah insisted.

“I understand, I almost wish I didn’t know,” Warren said, scratching his face.

“Go on to your duties, Captain, we will send for you when the children wake and are fed,” Niae said, bowing her head.

On the rooftop garden, the four were all busy working. The sun was out above their heads, lighting the whole place in a wonderful gold. The shine was helped along by the flickering wards in place to block anyone teleporting in. The wall full of heather shimmered, moving regularly in the gentle breeze.

Jonah, through a lot of headaches and reading, was making a device to turn the elevator off and on. It had started off as a radio signal that he could trigger alone. That didn’t seem fair should anyone else need it. So what he settled on, after hours of videos, diagrams, and pure sweat, was a combination device. It was both key operated and attached to a signal. Whenever he wanted or on the key’s removal, the elevator would stop and the brakes would trigger. Now all he had to do was attach the mechanism to the machine.

While Jonah worked, Warren was busy enchanting the Machinist’s armor. They both enjoyed the country western music coming out of Bot while they worked at the patio table. The Paladin had quite the voice and was glad to find Earth had some class. Jonah had a liking for the classic performers and it helped Diana to hear them both singing. Her man rarely sang in private, but he could mimic most anyone he was singing along with, even the high pitched yodeling of a man named Hank Williams. So while she walked the plots of her garden, she smiled.

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Diana was busy improving her armor. She wore every last piece of it, even the helm, which she had yet to wear since she left home. Her teacher had designed it with care and after her personality, which was to say her familiar. Made out of the richly brown and metal laced bark, it was in the shape of a tiger's head. It was carved in intricate detail, down to the slits of its nose, the eye patterns on the back of its ears, and the dips where the whiskers might be. The eyes were rough uncut blue sapphires that served as focuses in place of her tiara. The upper jaw was set on her forehead, the roaring mouth exposed little of her face. Two wooden fangs sat beside her brow and the bottom jaw protected her chin. There was also a length of bark scaled mail draping to protect her throat. She was getting used to the weight of it and the space it took up around her vision. Seeing herself in it, she thought it looked a bit silly, not because of its design, but because she was wearing it. She wasn't a War Druid, she would never be on a real battlefield, if everything went according to plan. She didn't feel like she deserved such a majestic helmet, though Aiko approved of it greatly, roaring at its master’s new bit of armor.

Besides her doubts of facing combat, Diana was working on a means to further her protection, just in case. The insides of her armor was padded, not enough given the bruises she got from Angelina. Now that she had a garden she could increase it more. Jonah had his padded gambeson, Diana had her bedding moss. Several of her planters were now taken up with the plant. When it fully grew, in the shadows of the tent that Rosetta had made for it, Diana would stuff her Weaver clothes with it and be further guarded from impact.

Rosetta had been floating around the whole garden for hours, only occasionally landing for a rest. Now she told Diana all about the new diet that Warren had her on. The princess had no way of missing the food that the Sorceress was putting away, but she listened anyway. There was something so sweet about a woman who had gone through lovers like water, talking about someone with genuine care. She also looked much better for it, the Court Mage that had come a week before, was not the one flying beside her now.

“It’s all about more carbs," she stated, parroting Warren. All she had eaten before was “sugary shite,” now she ate “filling grub.” Given the Paladin’s size, Diana figured he knew about bulking.

“I get mah wee pickin’s still, but not as much,” Rosetta told her with a giddy expression. “I feel so much better, I do. It’s like a weight is lifted off mah. I mean, I gained over a bloody stone, since yah know. I must have dropped another couple pounds since the kids. Look it, they're fadin’.” She pulled the bindings off her belly, showing off the purple lightning marks that were starting to fade. “I know, I’m still a ruddy cow, and I’ll always have some extra. I can’t do mah magic without it. Those jeans, they're inspiration too, keep mah doing magic to exercise. Did yah ever think I’d be back flyin’?”

“I’m glad he makes you this happy and cares about your health,” Diana said, harvesting the flowers from one of her medicinal plants.

Hugging herself, Rosetta nodded. “Aye, I don’t think I deserve it… I’ve got nothin’ of worth. Besides mah magic that is…” She trembled, faltering in the air. “After the failure… I wasn't sure I’d ‘ave anyone again.”

“It’s only been a week Rose, and I know he cares,” Diana went on, patting her friend’s shoulder. “You have your worth, you mean a lot to everyone here. I would feel far less safe without you.”

Rosetta stopped in thought for a moment. She then spoke in a hush, leaning towards the princess. “I can’t link with ‘im, not reliably. Mah mind just makes it shatter, corrupts it eventually. He doesn’t want to hurt mah like Iris, says I don’t deserve it for just feeling sad and guilty.” She clawed at her jacket. “I need it, Diana, I need the pain to think. Can yah talk to ‘im, make ‘im hurt mah?”

The princess blinked in surprise.

“Ahh… never mind that, sorry, sorry, forget I said anythin’, please, please,” Rosetta said with a pathetic whimper. She flew off over the planters, her feet brushing against the plants. Diana called out to her, telling her to avoid the burnweed and poison ivy.

The Druid looked at the tiger, who was laying out in the sunshine. She wondered what to do at it. The tiger sent her feelings of resigned acceptance, a mental shrug, putting its head back on its paws. There was a good reason she didn’t discuss such matters with Rose, they made her deeply uncomfortable. Besides her unconventional attractions to parts of the male body, the princess simply didn’t understand the desire to be hurt or inflict pain in the midst of passion. What happened between Rose and her lovers in private, in the Bound god’s temple, was of no interest to her. Jonah considered his own attraction to be freakish. What was their attractions to specific body parts compared to whips, paddles, and other such instruments of torture?

One time Rose had gone to her god’s temple and returned with bruises all around her neck, cheeks, even split swollen lips. She snuck around the castle after that, having received a dressing down from the queen. The young Luann had seen her and thought her protector had been mugged in the street.

When Rose and Iris linked together, something they did for all their lives, he would curb his sister’s bad behavior with a mental flick of pain. It wasn’t sexual, but needed, as Rose told all the interviewers throughout her life. Apparently it was a tug on her ear or a flick of her nose. The newspapers never understood it. Neither did Diana, whose experiences with self harm were dark and regrettable ones.

A mental link was to allow yourself to feel pain in any way your body knew how. Should Diana really encourage it with Warren? Would it help them work together better? One of the things Iris always did was limit Rose’s impulse. From how much magic she had used in the mental journey, Diana knew Rose still needed help on that front. How dire was her protectors' need to connect? Would it put them in danger if they didn't work perfectly in sync?

Ideally there would be no fighting at all. The Ash Makers would arrive and so would the army. That was that. All these bits of preparation were just in case.

The door to the rooftop garden opened and Diana thanked the gods she was spared from thinking about the matter any more. However, Kalyah didn’t look as excited as she should. She beckoned them down without a word.

“Is something wrong with the kids?” Diana asked quietly as Jonah looped his arm with hers.

“No, come on, we can’t talk here,” Kalyah said, lifting the door again.

The penthouse was rather full as they all four entered it again. The most surprising sight was Chiru, holding her Courier up to the window in the kitchen. Beside her was Niae and Eutace, which were both cautiously concerned and annoyed respectively. Jonah stiffened as he saw the people filling the parlor across from the kitchen. It had been a while since she’d seen one and Diana wasn’t exactly as excited as she should be. They were allies, but their intentionally fear-inducing clothing and armor didn’t ease her mind.

“What’s going on?” Diana asked.

Eutace jerked his head to Chiru. “The brave Order soldier could not wait until we took her out to check her device, she has been rubbing it against the window to get a signal,” he said, rather peeved.

“Good thing I did, they are coming, the day after tomorrow,” Chiru said with a sneer to the Cleric. “Early in the morning, they guess, they are not sure on the time. Said they will be at western pipes, following the long tunnel.”

“I do not know how they can be that specific,” Eutace said, glancing over at the device.

Chiru pulled it away from him. The Wanshi was wearing her ashen coat and had her long dark hair up in a braided bun. Someone had also given her trousers to wear, she apparently didn’t like the clothes that Diana had so generously let her borrow. She even went so far as to insult the garments when Kalyah handed her new ones.

The Ash Maker eyed the four in the parlor. “One of them is a Krax, she knows how to navigate the forest well,” she answered.

“Well, that is good,” Niae said cheerfully before her grandson could speak.

“A Krax Ash Maker?” Diana couldn’t help but ask.

“Loyal to the cause, not an Ash Maker,” Chiru replied, still eyeing the room suspiciously.

Jonah’s eyes stopped flashing with his indexing. “An actual cat person?” he whispered to her.

“One very far from home,” Diana added.

The brief silence was ended by the tapping of a Crow Cleric’s staff. The clear leader, by the feathered shoulder pads of his cloak, made his way to the princess. His armor covered him completely, a mix of metal and leather, all black as night with only the occasional bit of shine. The bird chest shaped breastplate was covered with long strands of gleaming inky leather, made very distinctly to look like feathers. From his grayish black staff hung a small smoking censer, giving off the scent of a sugar soaked rose. Around the perfume dispensing pot of the brightest silver, were dry and dangling crow claws and beaks that rattled with every step.

Reaching out for her hand, he bowed and inclined his hooded head to Diana, the small glassy disks over his eyes flashing. Down his nose was a slender and bladed beak, all other features were absorbed by the blackness of the mask. “Greetings, your highness, my name does not matter, but you may call me Glimvet,” the Crow Cleric said, his voice weathered and old. He hunched slightly, even then looking Warren in the eyes.

“Greetings, Glimvet, it is a pleasure to have a Feast Leader on our side,” Diana said, bowing her head back to the man.

A wheeze of a laugh came from him. “It is nice to have one who knows the rank of the Crows that tend the dead,” he said, sticking out his hand to Jonah. “Greetings, Jonah, the new Machinist, for that is what Niae has called you.”

Jonah blinked, his eyes stopped flashing again.

Glimvet looked at his face curiously.

“Sorry, greetings,” Jonah said, sticking his hand out to shake.

The Crow turned to Niae. “You told me the gleam in his eyes meant something was wrong…”

“Were you curious about something?” Niae asked, coming over to them.

Jonah flushed. “I didn’t know what ‘Feast Leader’ meant… Apparently a group of crows is called a ‘feast’ here. In my world they're called a murder of crows,” he explained. His green eyes darted around in embarrassment of being called out.

Glimvet laughed, breaking out into a heaving cough that echoed throughout the room. Niae rubbed the man's back, frowning with resigned sorrow. One of the Crows, dressed in the same garb, save the tufted shoulders, came over to the Feast Leader. She was a small woman and she checked over the older man, which meant her beak moved all about as she whispered in elvish. All that Diana could decipher was "Grandfather…"

“I am fine, I am fine. The winter season and this old joke set off the catch in my throat, that is all,” he said, waving his hand. He turned back to Jonah. “I have not heard mention of that since the ‘old’ Machinist said it to me some two hundred years back. I served in the war, like many in this city did. Unlike the other retirees here, I got to meet the Heroes of old. I tended to the body of the famed Wizard of the great war… The lasers burned so much of him…" He nodded in remembrance, clearing his throat. "I expected that one day I might lay to rest the two Heroes without magical powers. I knew from the Holy Mother’s clergy that they were not long for this world. To guide their souls on, now that would be an honor, I thought.” He shook his head, giving one short cough and switching hands for his staff.

“I knew that once they outlived the Druid, Miss Diana, that they were using unatural means to live. A shame, a true shame. Yet they are still praised to this day, their true age unknown by the masses,” Glimvet continued, shaking his head again. “I heard about Miss Niae's treating your Clawing Death, young Jonah. All calls for the Holy Mother’s aid are sent through our temple as well, in case of the worst. I am glad you did not need our treatment…” He hummed, pausing for some time. “Oh, excuse me, I was lost in thought… When I heard that our temple had the chance to defend against the Heroes, I knew it was fate. As it was when you were struck down by an illness, young Niae was a master over.”

Niae gasped, blushing brightly across her pale cheeks. “You old dog, calling me young…” she said breathlessly.

The old elf laughed, containing his cough this time. There was a smile in his voice as he turned to the couple. “Under all this I am some fifteen hundred years old, which is not young for a Night elf, Mr. Jonah,” he said, gesturing to his armor.

The Arch Priestess smiled at him, running her hand along his back. “He is very handsome under it as well. He has fathered three of my children. I only wish I had thought of you sooner, Glim. You so seldom come by the temple.”

“I am not so handsome any more, I am old. Soon I will serve my lord forever,” he said, with a crackling sigh. He turned, looking back at those on the parlor furniture. “My temple has few capable of fighting. I am sorry to say, Miss Diana, that besides these here, there are only two more watching over those children. I am glad to have Tillran there, he is a visitor and the only available Grave Paladin in this whole kingdom.” He gestured to the others and they rose and came over. The small woman fell into line and they all bowed.

Tillran was the only one in differing garb, wearing a grayish black trenchcoat. His full head helmet was covered in black feathers except the eyes of the mask. From his mask came a longer and equally sharp beak. The space around his eyes was angry molded metal and the holes of it were empty and depthless. Unlike Warren and many other Paladins, whose helmet was contained in their diadem, a Grave Paladin kept theirs in their mask. Though they were trained in hand to hand fighting, Tillran sported a studded club on his back, they didn't show their faces like their Cleric brethren.

“Yes, it is a shame we do not have a force to rival the Heroes themselves,” Glimvet lamented. “Undead pustules have been rising in Grunhir, it is only a matter of time before they appear farther south.” He turned to Jonah, who was indexing. “Imagine great mounds of the undead rising up from the earth. They are signs that great struggle has come to the land. During the great war we had to tend to the battlefields quickly, lest the dead rose to fight again.”

“It took days, even in the war,” Niae said, clearly frightened by her memory of such events.

“Thousands of bodies can take days to tend,” Glimvet stated, laying his hand on Niae’s arm. “Be glad the Holy Mother decided to spare you the horrors of her Stillborn offspring.” He and the others turned their heads in quick disgust at the mention of the half dead goddess. Recovering from their ritual, Glimvet sighed greatly. “We are here to help and we will bring those living Order members here under a veil. Then your army will come to interrogate them. I hope the Raven King sees fit to allow us success, that none of us see the Gates by the end of this ordeal.” His glass lenses flashed. “Should fate not be in our favor, my fellow Crows will be here either way.”

“The day after tomorrow,” Jonah said, setting an alarm on his screen.