Chapter 10: An Unlikely Guardian

"Research Log, Year 4, Month 6, Day 4 (Day 1,624)

"Earlier today I looked away for a moment and Mada was gone. This kind of stress is why I never wanted to be a parent. I found him walking out into the forest alone. When I ran out to get him, he thought it was some kind of game. It wasn’t until I caught him and he saw my eyes that he realized I was angry. If we lived in the city someone would have seen him for certain, but then again that’s part of why I lived so far away. I didn’t want to have to interact with people in a city, it just so happened that gave us an advantage now.

“I brought him inside and asked what he thought he was doing. He said he just wanted to go to his own house in the forest, the one we built for when Iakedrom visited. He thought it was a safe place, and wanted to know why I was mad. I told him I was afraid he would get hurt. I don’t think he understood. He seems to think the hiding is some kind of game we play with Iakerdom, and I’m to blame for that. Treating it like a game was the only way I could get him to cooperate at first, but now that he’s asleep and I’ve calmed down I’ve had time to think. I need to explain to him, though I don’t know if he’ll fully understand until he’s older. Still, I think he’s smart enough to understand danger if I present it well.”

Iakedrom felt a sharp tug on the rope leash tied to Mada, then it fell slack. The Verd whistled shrilly and Iakedrom wanted to cover his ears against the sound. A loud crash shook the building and Iakedrom turned toward the sound.

His prisoner’s hands were free, and a battering bird filled the entrance to the officer’s house. Iakedrom only saw briefly the gruesome work of the beast. A battering bird could crush the skull of a Pursuer. When used against diordna that same beak only left mangled corpses.

But the escaping prisoner was more important than the death at the entrance of the building.

The verd drew a hidden knife from somewhere near his waist and lunged for Iakedrom. Iakedrom dodged to the side, slapping the knife hand away, taking a small cut on his prosthetic as he did so. One advantage of losing your good arm was that now if it got hurt or broken, it could just be replaced.

Iakedrom danced back as the verd continued his attack, slashing back and forth, attempting to stab him, but Iakedrom managed to keep his distance. The room had exploded in a cacophony of shouts and cnido shots. Bonelettes and arrows thumped into desks and walls, sending bits of wood into the air when they did. And when they struck the defending officers or the attacking soldiers they sprayed oil into the air and across the floor.

Suddenly, Iakedrom’s back thumped against the interrogation room door, and he had nowhere left to dodge. The verd “prisoner” leaped toward him, trying to take advantage of the situation. Iakedrom had trained for this kind of situation, so he knew what to do.

The stone knife came toward him like the tip of a spear. Iakedrom slapped the verds knife hand to the side with one hand, then swept his prosthetic hand around, further knocking the attack to the side before pivoting. He needed to grab the wrist and yank the verd further off balance, but his prosthetic hand was too slow, and the soldier too fast.

The verd drew his hand away from Iakedrom’s attempted grab, then swung it back in a slash, forcing Iakedrom to leap back, parallel to the wall. Iakedrom was ready for the next stab. He knew how fast his prosthetic would react, and he knew he could time it better with the next attack.

But the attack didn’t come. Instead, the verd opened the interrogation room door and stepped inside. Iakedrom tried to reach it before the door closed, but failed, and the vines tightened to hold the door in place. The vines couldn’t be locked into their rigid state from the inside, but Iakedrom worried what the verd might do to Ekivia in the extended moment it would take him to reach her.

He drew his cnido and yanked the door open so hard he heard the vines crack under the strain because they didn’t have time to relax fully. The verd was saying something as he cut Ekivia’s bonds, but Iakedrom was seeing red and so focused on the soldier that he didn’t hear what was being said.

Iakedrom rushed into the room, and the verd turned to meet his attack. Iakedrom latched onto the na’s wrist before he could raise the knife, then put his other hand against his enemy’s throat and continued forward, Ekivia leaping out of their way as he drove the na into the back wall. He beat the na’s hand and head against the wall over and over, breaking the plaster and exposing the wall-branch beneath.

“Ekivia, Go!” The na shouted through gasps.

No, Iakedrom thought. He couldn’t let her escape. Not now that he was finally going to get answers. He knew who Mada was, and he knew Ekivia was a traitor. That meant he could finally craft his questions effectively enough to get answers.

He roared in the face of his enemy as he pulled forward and threw the na over his hip, slamming him into the ground. Floor and na crunched, and the verd dropped his knife. Before he could recover, Iakedrom grabbed the weapon, lifted it over his head, and plunged it into the verds neck. Oil burst from the wound, wetting Iakedrom’s hands again, some of it spraying onto his face as he yanked the knife out. The verd writhed on the ground, grabbing at his neck and gurgling through the oil that flooded out of his mouth.

Still gripping the knife, Iakedrom leaped to his feet and met Ekivia’s eyes. She stood in the doorway, eyes wide, fear-sight causing them to look pink through Iakedrom’s anger. Her face and head were covered in fresh paint, which Iakedrom had only just noticed. It wasn’t patterned paint like she generally wore but instead looked like the verd had dumped it over her head and let it run down her face and neck. Through his anger, he couldn’t be sure of the color, but he thought it was green.

He stepped over the dying verd, and his motion seemed to snap Ekivia out of her stupor. She stepped backward, but Iakedrom was on her in a moment, grabbing her wrist with an oily hand.

“You have a lot to answer for,” Iakedrom growled. “If you dare try to take advantage of this attack and escape I won’t hesitate to cripple you and drag you to someplace where I can get answers.”

Ekivia stared at him slack-jawed but seemed to understand.

“We’ll duck behind that desk,” Iakedrom said, indicating the one closest to the interrogation room. “Then when I give the signal we make a break for the stable door out the back.”

Ekivia nodded.

Iakedrom took a deep breath, peeking out at the room. Near the entrance, bodies littered the floor. There were maybe fifteen officers left, of the thirty or forty that had been in today. They hid behind overturned desks, firing bonelets at the invaders. They wouldn’t hold much longer.

“Go,” Iakedrom said, and he tugged Ekivia’s arm. They leaped for the desk, settling behind it as an arrow thudded into the ground nearby, sending up chips of wood and plaster.

Iakedrom rifled through the cubbies of this desk until he found a rope, then proceeded to tie Ekivia’s hands in front of her. He wanted her on a leash. Then he looked toward his desk, worried he’d see Fosia’s body beside it, but she was nowhere to be seen, dead or alive. Instead, Nailil was crouched behind the desk. Iakedrom signaled to her, trying to communicate that he needed his bag. After a brief pause, Nailil grabbed the bag, belt, and cnido from Iakedrom’s desk, then dashed across the room using desks as cover as she did so.

“I told you we needed to get our answers quickly,” She said, eyes red, then handed him his possessions. “If you’d let me take care of it we wouldn’t be here now.”

Iakedrom glared back at her. “How about we get out of here alive, then we can start blaming each other. Unless your holiness has a better idea?”

Nailil glared at him but nodded.

Iakedrom put his cnido belt on, then reached into the bag and retrieved a living pouch with a thin bone needle on one side, a stomach to feed his prosthetic. He stabbed the bone needle into his arm near the shoulder, and slowly squeezed the contents into the arm to “feed” it. Without regular injections the arm would grow weak and die. It had an opening in the armpit, like a mouth for breathing, but it couldn’t eat with it.

“Where’s Fosia?” Iakedrom asked as he continued the slow injection.

“She went to get your other prisoner,” Nailil said, then she flinched at the sound of a bonelette burrowing into the desk behind them. “Since the two seem connected, she thought you’d want both.”

Iakedrom nodded, noticing that the door to Esile’s interrogation room was open. “She was right. On my signal, we make a break for the back of the room. Follow my lead, keep your profile low, and try to keep a desk between you and the entrance if you can.”

The three of them adjusted the crouch, preparing to run. Iakedrom peaked around the desk to get a look at the situation.

The first row of desks was a mess of shattered wood and metal, oil spilling from officers and soldiers alike, leaving patterns dripping down the walls and across the floor. Thankfully the battering bird looked about ready to drop, blood coloring its black feathers, giving them a nearly indiscernible crimson sheen. For now, the officers held firm, firing from the cover of unbroken desks. They had the superior position.

It wouldn’t last long. Not against an army.

Iakedrom took a deep breath and listened to the fighting. They were three rows of desks from the back exit, then they had to cross a space two rows wide where they would have no cover. It wasn’t really that far, but it would still be dangerous. His chest tightened only briefly, then he spotted Fosia in the doorway to the interrogation room. She met his eyes and nodded. They could do this.

“Go.”

The three of them ran in a crouch toward the back of the room, bonelets and arrows burrowing into walls, desks, soldiers, officers. Shouts rang through the room, accented with the sharp clap of cnido fire. Fosia and Esile joined them as they passed, just before the last row of desks, which the five of them crouched behind. They faced the wide space between their final cover and the doorway to safety. Iakedrom prayed that Dytie would protect them across that gap.

“Hey, Iak,” Fosia said from the next desk over. “Are you sure this is the best exit for us?”

“Of course it is,” Nailil said, completely missing the irony in Fosia’s voice. “What other escape is there?”

“I’m not sure,” Iakedrom said, feigning thoughtfulness. He always appreciated how Fosia could make light of a difficult situation. He was sure she wouldn’t disappoint even now. “Any ideas Fosia?”

“Well,” Fosia said, grinning. “The front door is wide open.”

Iakedrom almost laughed out loud. Dytie, he was glad to have a partner who could find humor in a situation like this. It was what he needed.

“It’s a good idea,” Iakedrom said, grinning back at her. “But then we’d have to walk all the way across the room. This door is closer.”

“Alright,” Fosia said. “We can use this one I guess. But you owe me.”

“Deal,” Iakedrom said. “Ready?”

The others nodded, except Nailil, who rolled her eyes.

Iakedrom pointed to Esile. “If you try anything I will immediately kill you.”

“I’d expect nothing less from you,” The nawo said.

“GO!”

They ran once more, Iakedrom and Ekivia in front, then Nailil, followed by Fosia and Esile. Iakedrom reached the door and yanked on the trigger branch, breaking it off before shoving through the door. The vines began to loosen but crunched loudly as he pushed through before they could soften enough. He took cover against the wall beside the door with Ekivia.

And as Nailil stepped through the opening an arrow punched into her back with a loud thump. She collapsed in the doorway in a heap, then stirred, trying to pull herself out of the line of fire.

Fosia and Esile nearly tripped over the priestess but managed to keep their feet and take cover opposite Iakedrom and Ekivia, several arrows following them through while others thumped against the wall behind them.

Iakedrom didn’t immediately pull Nailil to safety, hesitating partially out of fear that he’d be shot if he did. But the other part of him felt she’d gotten what she deserved.

Then she stirred again, oil oozing from the wound in her back and soaking into the dirt of the stables. Iakedrom crouched and pulled her out of the entrance, exposing as little of himself as he could.

Iakedrom looked at the wound then the priestess’s face. The arrow was in deep, but it wasn’t until he saw her eyes that he knew she was already dying. Her eyes were slowly changing, draining of all emotion sight, but she was still conscious.

“They shouldn’t be here,” Nailil said, voice slurred, oil on her lips, still laying face down though her face was turned toward Iakedrom. “We should have had more time.”

“Who shouldn’t be here?” Iakedrom asked though he thought he knew who.

“What?” Nailil asked, eyes turning upward toward him, confused. “No. No one.”

Her face slackened, eyes completely devoid of color, making the glass and fluid completely clear. Even when diordna fell unconscious their eyes had color. It was only in death that they cleared.

Deathsight.

“Let’s go,” Iakedrom said to the others, and they left the body, escaping through the stables.

**********

Nevets couldn’t avoid seeing the death and destruction around him. It was his city, and he felt he had to hold a vigil for it, as much as it pained him. They were in the back portion of the army, just ahead of the machinologists and the pack mounts carrying supplies for the entire army. Since they weren’t near the front Nevets didn’t have to watch the worst of the fighting and killing, but there were always stragglers.

This section of the army was charged with cleaning up those stragglers. There weren’t many though, most of the Drolites in this part of the city had enough warning to escape ahead of the army. Still, a few hadn’t made it. Most of them were already dead, their corpses lay in the streets, their life oil soaking into the dirt.

Better for Nagemai’s army that the oil soak into the dirt than that it ignite.

Nagemai directed her soldiers from the mount behind Nevets, sending teams into specific buildings to flush out any stragglers and to burn other buildings. Often, as the buildings burned Drolites tried to escape and were cut down as they did so. Nagemai had a system for which ones to burn and which to search, Nevets could see that. There was a pattern. He just didn’t know its purpose.

He was about to ask, to start a conversation so he wouldn’t be so fixated on the dead around him, but Treblig returned and took his attention instead. He didn’t have his mount, and he was ragged. Obviously, the mission to retrieve Ekivia had been a dangerous one. Nevets held out hope that despite the difficulty they’d managed to bring her back.

Treblig approached on foot and saluted. “Nagemai.”

“Welcome back Treblig,” Nagemai said, stopping the mount. “Did you find Ekivia?”

“We did,” Treblig said, and Nevets felt his heart swell with hope, eyes turning a light blue. Then they returned to black as Treblig continued. “The investigator with the prosthetic escaped with her. We tried to follow them but the fighting was too intense.”

“Are you sure it was her?” Nevets asked. He wanted it to be because that meant she was alive, but none of the group had ever seen her before.

Treblig nodded. “Certain. We sent a soldier in with the officer we captured so they could identify her for us. They marked her with green paint, so she was unmistakable.”

Nevets sighed in relief. He didn’t know if he could really trust these verds, but he held to the hope they gave him. Besides, he couldn’t think of a good reason for them to lie about this, so for now he chose to believe that Ekivia was alright.

“Hopefully she keeps the paint on her head,” Nagemai said. “Send a message to the captains that if they see anyone that matches her description that they are to capture her, not kill her.”

“Already done,” Treblig said.

Nagemai smiled. “Always one step ahead. Good work Treblig.”

“Thank you,” Treblig said. Nevets caught a casual tone to his voice and realized that these two weren’t just commander and soldier, they were friends.

“Would you get our guests some food?” Nagemai requested. “I’m sure they’re hungry.”

“Yes general,” Treblig said with a smart salute, and he left.

Nevets’s eyes wandered as he waited, settling on a burning building and the soldiers waiting outside it. He watched several Drolites stumble out, escaping the flames to be killed by the soldiers.

“It really is terrible,” Nagemai said from behind Nevets. It always startled him a little when she spoke so close to him. “What we do in war. I’ve seen far more than my fair share of atrocities. I’ve done more than I wish I had.”

“Then why don’t you stop it?” Nevets said though he didn’t take his eyes off the burning building. “You’re the one commanding the soldiers to perform these horrors. You can stop.”

“I wish that were true,” Nagemai said in a near whisper. “There were times I’ve tried. But the Redael and Drol never let me. I’ve had to fight to survive.”

“Considering recent events I guess I understand that a little,” Nevets admitted, begrudgingly. Sometimes fighting was the only choice. But war? That was different. Or it should be at least.

It occurred to Nevets that it wasn’t Nagemai that could end the atrocities, it was Drol Maharba and Redael Selraef that could. And for generations they hadn’t.

The thought disturbed him more than he wanted to admit.

“You know,” Nagemai said, contemplative. “The more I spend time with you the more I like you. I’m sure the feeling isn’t mutual, but I don’t mind so much. I can see why Ekivia chose you as her partner. You have an open mind, even when faced with an enemy. It’s an admirable trait that too few diordna share.”

“I agree,” Nevets said.

A Drolite, iron-skinned like Nevets himself, stood inside the building as it burned around her. He could see the anger on her face in the flickering flames, yellow tongues of fire reflected on pink eyes, and he shared some of that anger though it was overwhelmed by his sorrow. This nawo would be dead as soon as she left the building. He knew it. She knew it. The soldiers knew it.

The nawo held a long branch, torn from the wall and burning at the end. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it was better than nothing. She approached the doorway with slow resolve. Nevets was so taken by her expression that he almost didn’t see the cut on her side that darkened her clothing with oil. But once he saw it he couldn’t take his eyes off it.

The nawo touched her makeshift torch against the wound as she stepped from the building, igniting the oil.

“DOWN!!” Nagemai shouted, and soldiers leaped away from the now burning nawo, trying to find cover.

Nevets was exposed on top of the lancer bird, and there was nothing he could do to take cover. He saw the swelling of the nawo’s skin in slow motion, though he knew it really only took a few eye blinks and he braced himself for the explosion.

Nagemai wrapped her arms around Nevets and yanked him sideways off the lancer, tugging the reigns down with them and forcing the bird to lower its head and spread its wings. The creature blocked Nevets direct view of the explosion, but he saw the flash of light, smelled the burning oil and metal, heard the lions roar, watched the flaming pieces of diordna flesh, muscle, and shrapnel bone shining as it flew through the air around them. Soldiers screamed and the bird cried out in pain as pieces of bone ripped through or burrowed into them.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

This was why armies had cleanup crews, to prevent dying diordna from blowing themselves up. But they’d gotten careless.

Nevets and Nagemai slammed into the ground, knocking the air from Nevets’s in a sharp pained breath. He gasped and rolled on the ground, barely aware of his surroundings anymore. There was only one thing on his mind.

Had Mada reached cover?

Nevets rolled over, craning his neck from his position lying in the dirt as he tried to find Mada. His vision swam, but he spotted the AI nearby, laying in the dirt like Nevets was. Nevets tried to stand, but his wounded leg gave out and the wound began to ooze again, darkening his bandage with oil.

“Mada,” Nevets said, weakly. He took a breath and tried to speak louder. “Mada, are you alright.”

The AI rolled over and pushed himself to his hands and knees, awkwardly because of the ropes tying his wrists together. “I think so. You?”

“I… don’t know,” Nevets said honestly, and he looked himself over. He was shocked to find marks along his right arm and side where shrapnel had scratched him.

Then the pain from those wounds hit him hard. He cried out involuntarily. Mada scrambled over to him, hands still tied, dragging his leash with him.

“What do I do,” Mada said, voice panicked. “What do I do.”

Nagemai coughed nearby, stumbling to her feet. “Tie off the arm near the shoulder, then put pressure on the worst of the wounds. I’ll get a machinologist.”

Mada followed her instructions as she ran off and Nevets tried to cooperate, but the pain made him pull away involuntarily more than once. Nevets clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, trying to bear the pain as best he could.

“I…” Mada began, then swallowed loudly. “I can’t put pressure on the worst of the wounds. There’s a piece of her bone sticking out and I’m afraid I’ll only make it worse if I push it in. I think I need to pull it out.”

Eyes still closed, Nevets nodded. “Be quick about it if you can.”

“I’ll try, but with all the oil it’s going to be slippery.”

“Just do your best,” Nevets said through clenched teeth.

“Ok,” Mada said.

Nevets breathed deeply, trying to calm himself and prepare for the pain of having a piece of bone shrapnel pulled from his arm. Nevets felt Mada press his arm against his side to stabilize it and to prevent Nevets from pulling away when he touched the wound. Then he decided he wanted to be able to brace himself for the moment Mada began pulling the shrapnel out, so he opened his eyes and watched.

Mada reached out, shaking the leash so it trailed out away from Nevets, then twisting his wrists so that he could grab the shrapnel without the second hand getting in the way. As Mada’s fingers drew close to the shrapnel sticking from his forearm Nevets clenched his fist so hard it hurt.

As soon as Mada touched the piece of bone, pain shot through Nevets body, but he held himself still through sheer force of will. Despite all the oil Mada got a good grip on the shrapnel almost immediately and slowly drew it out of the wound. Then he tossed the shrapnel into the dirt with a shake of his hand.

Once it was out, the pain subsided a little and Mada put pressure on the wound.

“Thank you,” Nevets said.

“You can thank me by surviving,” Mada replied.

Nevets tried to smile but flinched as he did so. “No guarantees. You’ve got a good grip. I was worried you would accidentally push it in deeper.”

“Yeah,” Mada said slowly. “The shrapnel… stuck to my skin for some reason.”

“Really?” Nevets said, perking up a little. “Has that ever happened before? Could that have something to do with how you were made? Why would Ekivia include something like that in the code?”

“I don’t think she would intentionally,” Mada said. “Maybe it’s because she used parts of prosthetic code when she made me?”

“That’s a good guess,” Nevets said. “Prosthetics need to bond with the diordna body to receive signals to move. Could be a similar thing here. That’s a good observation.”

“Thank you,” Mada said.

Nagemai returned with a machinologist, who looked askance at Mada before kneeling beside him to inspect Nevets’s wounds. After a moment of close inspection, she reached into her bag and removed several bandages, then she wrapped most of the wounds.

Then she took a bone needle and some gut from her bag. “This will hurt.” She warned.

Nevets nodded his understanding, then took in a sharp pained breath through his teeth as she began stitching the wound Mada had removed the shrapnel from.

When she was done with that she reached back into her bag and removed some claw pinchers. They were a new kind of isolated organic, made after crab pinchers. It had a small joint near the top of the arm that made the claw open and close when it was moved. Then she removed a small hollowed-out bone that was wide enough for the narrow claw to fit inside, and about as long as a finger from its tip to the first knuckle.

“Does it understand commands?” the machinologist asked Nagemai in reference to Mada.

“Why don’t you ask him?”

The machinologist looked confused for a moment but looked toward Mada.

“I understand commands,” Mada said, then he took a deep breath as if preparing to do something difficult. “But I respond better to requests.”

The machinologists eyes widened. “Alright then. Hold this wound open so I can get the tube in. I need to remove the shrapnel before I wrap the wound.”

Despite his bravado about responding better to requests, Mada complied. Though Nevets didn’t miss the sheepish look on his face as he did so. That emotion was a very diordna one. Mada might not like it if Nevets put that kind of thing in his reports, but it would also show that he experiences the full range of diordna emotion.

Nevets took in another pained breath as the machinologist inserted the bone tube. Then she spoke to Mada. “Let go.”

Mada did so, and the wound contracted around the tube. Then the machinologist slowly lowered the pinchers into the tube. Nevets felt the motion of the shrapnel inside the wound as a slight poking sensation, though it wasn’t as painful as he’d worried it would be.

“Damn it,” the machinologist cursed under her breath, eyes reddening.

“What’s wrong,” Nagemai asked.

“I can’t get a good grip,” the machinologist said, frustrated. “And I should be working on our wounded, not our enemies wounded.”

“You should be working on who I tell you to,” Nagemai said, tone firm, dangerous.

“I…” the machinologist blinked in shock at the response. “Sorry, sir. I’ll get back to it.”

“Um,” Mada began, and the three of them looked at him. “I might be able to help.”

The machinologist looked to Nagemai again. “Can it really?”

“Not it, him,” Nagemai corrected. “And if he says he can then I trust him.”

The machinologist nodded and hesitantly handed the pinchers to Mada. “Let’s see it then, him.”

“Mada,” Mada said, and Nagemai grinned. So much for keeping his name a secret. “Call me Mada. And I don’t need the pinchers.”

“The wound won’t fit two fingers,” the machinologist said. “It will tear it too much.”

“I don’t need two fingers,” Mada said. “Take the tube out.”

The machinologist looked to Nagemai again, and she nodded. The machinologist slowly removed the bone tube, drawing a grunt of pain from Nevets.

Once it was out Mada slowly inserted his pinky into the wound. It was about as wide as the tube, so the pain was familiar. Then he felt the prick of the shrapnel at the bottom as Mada’s finger touched it.

“I don’t know if this will actually work,” Mada said, nervously.

“That’s alright,” Nagemai said.

Mada smiled at her, then he slowly removed his pinky. And as it cleared the wound Nevets saw the piece of shrapnel gripping the tip of his finger.

The machinologist gaped, unable to comprehend what she’d just seen.

“We think it’s because some of his code was based on prosthetic technology,” Nevets said.

“That would make sense,” the machinologist said quietly. “I don’t know why we never tried something like this sooner.”

Nagemai was grinning. “Are you going to finish bandaging our guest or are you going to just keep staring?”

“Oh, sorry sir,” the machinologist said, reaching for her needle and gut. “I’ll finish up.”

It only took a few moments for her to stitch and bandage the rest of the wounds. Then she stood to leave.

“Don’t you have something to say?” Nagemai said to the machinologist.

The nawo turned to look at her commander, confused.

“This na here did you a service,” Nagemai said, indicating Mada. “I think he deserves your thanks.”

“Oh, sorry sir,” the machinologist said. The idea obviously hadn’t even occurred to her until Nagemai suggested it.

“Don’t apologize to me,” Nagemai said. “Apologize to him.”

“But it’s—“

Nagemai cut the machinologist off. “From what I’ve seen, he’s as diordna as you and I. He’s not animal until proven diordna, he’s diordna until proven animal. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” The machinologist said, then turned to Mada grudgingly. “I’m sorry. And… thank you for your help. You did well.”

“You’re welcome,” Mada said, glaring at the dirt.

“You know,” Nagemai said. “There are quite a few soldiers with shrapnel that might need to be removed. I bet, if you requested it of him, Mada would be willing to help you out.”

Nevets perked up at the suggestion. It was clever. If Mada helped the machinologist heal the soldiers, they’d be exposed to him and might start to see him favorably for his service. It was a step in the right direction.

“That would speed things up quite a bit,” the machinologist said, but she didn’t make the request of Mada.

“Well,” Nagemai said. “I’m not going to command it. You have to make the request of him.”

“I, um, are you sure?” the machinologist asked, confused.

“Absolutely,” Nagemai said. “He is to be treated as my guest and an equal.”

“Alright.” The machinologist still seemed confused, but she turned to look at Mada. “Would you be willing to help me remove shrapnel from the other soldiers?”

“I would,” Mada said.

“Alright then,” The machinologist said, grabbing the lead on his rope. “Let’s go.”

“One moment,” Nagemai said, stopping them. “I think if he’s going to be helping you out he’ll need the use of both hands.” And with that, she cut Mada’s bonds. “I trust you won’t run off.”

“I’m not leaving him behind,” Mada said, nodding toward Nevets. “And you’ve been good to us. I think we’re in good hands.”

“Good,” She smiled, then she spoke to the machinologists. “You are to refer to him as Mada or him, never it, and correct any soldier who does otherwise. I also want every soldier to thank him directly for his service. If any are unwilling send them to me.”

“Yes sir,” the machinologist said uncomfortably, then the two of them left.

“I hate to admit it,” Nevets said. “But I think he’s right. You didn’t have to bring a machinologist. You didn’t have to risk soldiers to find Ekivia. I don’t know why or how long it will last, but thank you for helping us.”

“I’m glad you’ve come to that conclusion,” Nagemai said. “I’ll tell you my reasons once we get out of here. Too many interruptions and prying ears when we’re in active combat. But for now, know that I think it would be a great loss if anything were to happen to you two.”

Nevets nodded, awkwardly. It was strange to receive that kind of assurance from someone who should be his enemy. Someone who, less than a full day ago, had thrown a spear through his thigh. But she was protecting him. He’d have been in full view of the explosion without her. He didn’t know what to make of this relationship.

As he puzzled over the situation, Treblig returned with a leather bag.

“Are you alright?” He asked Nagemai. “I heard the explosion, but I didn’t realize it was right here.”

“I’m fine,” Nagemai said, and she nodded toward Nevets. “But he’s going to need pods to help his healing.”

Treblig stepped forward and opened the pouch in front of Nevets.

“Go ahead and untie him,” Nagemai said, and she stood. “He’ll need his hands to eat, and I don’t think he’ll be going anywhere.”

“Yes sir,” Treblig said, and he untied Nevets bonds.

“If he needs anything else be sure to get it for him,” Nagemai said. “I have to go receive some reports.”

Treblig nodded his understanding, then settled down in the dirt beside Nevets.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Treblig said.

Nevets shrugged. It looked like there was enough for them both, and he figured Treblig was supposed to keep an eye on him, so either way he’d be nearby.

Treblig withdrew a copper pod from the bag and held it out to Nevets. Nevets took it and tried to peel it open with his bare hands, but he couldn’t get a grip on it. He tried biting it, but the skin was thick and tough, the outside of the pod smooth and round so his teeth just kept sliding off.

“Want a hand?” Treblig offered.

Nevets grimaced, but nodded and held the copper pod out. “These things are harder skinned than I’m used to.”

Treblig took the pod and drew his stone knife, then he pushed the tip of the blade into the navel of the pod. Oil dripped from the hole as Treblig pressed his thumbs into it and pulled the entire thing apart, then he handed the pieces back to Nevets.

“Thanks,” Nevets said, taking the pieces. He raised half of the pod to his mouth and scraped at the inside of the skin with his teeth, pulling the soft insides and some of the oil into his mouth.

“Ugh,” Nevets groaned through the mouthful, eyes yellowing with disgust. “You Verds have terrible taste in pods.”

"I’m sure you know what they say about taste," Treblig said around a mouthful. "It’s only in the mouth of the taster.

“I’ve never heard that before,” Nevets said, swallowing forcefully. “But I guess it must be true or you’d never eat this stuff.”

“You’ll get used to it if you need to,” Treblig said. “Nagemai says that on longer campaigns she’s had to eat your iron fruit and that it doesn’t taste so bad eventually.”

Nevets grunted. He didn’t want to be with this army long enough to find out if that was true or not.

He took another bite, grimacing. Treblig watched him, grinning, eyes turning blue.

Nagemai returned from taking reports, and she seemed to be in a good mood for some reason.

“What’s going on?” Treblig asked, standing as she approached.

“Remember how I said there would be reinforcements in the morning?” Nagemai said, and Treblig nodded. “I just got a report from a long-range scout that they’ll be right on time.”

“What’s good about that?” Nevets asked.

“It means that I’m more prepared than they are,” Nagemai said. “Let’s move.”

They made their way further into the city, and as they did the number of soldiers around them increased. Nevets spotted soldiers looking out of windows in almost every building by the time they entered one themselves. Just ahead of the building they entered, he saw teams moving debris, barricading some of the streets, and clearing others.

The building they’d chosen was a ten-story apartment building with 30-centimeter-thick bamboo walls. It was even still living, though not growing any taller. Its only growth now was on the outside of the building, covering the entire thing in a vibrant carpet of leaves that undulated with the gentle breeze in the city.

While the outside was allowed to grow wherever it pleased the inside was quite different. Branches of bamboo only grew where allowed, intertwined to make a much flatter surface than the exposed trunks would, with bioluminescent vines woven in among them all through the structure.

The stairs ways in each corner were a wide rectangular shaft, with a wall of bamboo at the center that had branches growing outward at stair-step intervals, while other branches grew inward at the same interval. The two were woven together, then reinforced with plasters and lit by bioluminescent vines. At each floor there was a wide flat landing made the same way, the branches from the hallway growing into the stairwell, the ones from the stairwell growing out, the two woven together into a sturdy structure. Nevets read that it had taken a lot of time and work to get the bamboo branch strength correct since bamboo didn’t have strong branches when grown in the wild. It was part of why they’d used trees in the early days of living architecture. But once they figured out how to get the bamboo to grow strong enough branches they could grow a building like this in a year instead of ten.

And Nagemai made them climb 7 of the ten floors.

When they finally stopped their climb Nevets’ body was somehow burning and numb simultaneously beneath the bandages. Mada and Treblig practically carried him to a room that had been an apartment that morning. Now Nagemai had maps laid out across the table grown into the floor and she stood over them, making notes while messenger birds flew in through the window.

“You two will share one of the bedrooms with Treblig,” Nagemai said. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable.”

Treblig nodded and started leading them in the direction of the two bedrooms on one side of the apartment.

"You knew you'd get stopped partway through the city," Nevets said, pausing before they entered the room.

"Of course I did," Nagemai said. "A city this size has a large police force, and I doubted we could make it all the way here undetected. Even if we did it wouldn’t take long for a counter-attack to be organized."

“It’s more than that,” Nevets said. “You didn’t just guess they’d come, you knew. I’ve been thinking about how you’ve been burning buildings and not others. You were preparing places like this building that you could use as a base all across the city, while also creating just enough debris to make barricades. And on top of that, if my guess is right, you’ve made a corridor through this city that you can escape through. None of the streets here are straight, but downstairs, just ahead of this building, it’s starting to look straight. And you couldn’t have done that if you didn’t know the direction your enemies would be coming from, otherwise they’d be able to use the corridor you made.”

Nagemai smiled. “I guess the reports of your intelligence aren’t exaggerated. You figured all that out just by seeing a small portion of the city?”

Nevets nodded.

“Impressive,” Nagemai said. “I knew which way the army would attack because I knew the orders I was given by Selraef, and they mentioned using that direction as an escape. So I knew it wouldn’t be safe.”

“How could you know that,” Nevets repeated.

Nagemai sighed, then she spoke softly. “I’ve been betrayed by her more than once. For now, that’s all I’ll say.”

Nevets looked around uncomfortably. Had she really just said that her ruler, the Redael, had betrayed her more than once? In front of Treblig? The soldier didn’t seem affected by his general accusing his ruler of betrayal. In fact, he looked like he’d expected her to say as much.

“How are you feeling?” Nagemai asked. “Are your bandages alright?”

“As good as I could hope,” Nevets said. “I think the climb aggravated some of them, but I think I’ll be ok.”

“Treblig, could you get the machinologist again?” Nagemai asked.

“Yes sir,” Treblig said, carefully shifting Nevets so Mada was the only one supporting him.

“And grab some water from the grooms,” Nagemai said. “I’m sure Mada is thirsty.”

Treblig nodded and left the room.

A messenger bird flew through the window and landed on the table beside Nagemai, speaking its coded message. When it was done she lifted her hand and the bird flew back out the window. After briefly marking her map, she removed it from the table and walked it to one of the runners waiting just outside the room.

“You should probably eat a little more,” Nagemai noted as she reentered the room. “Here, let me help you to a chair.”

She did so, helping Mada walk Nevets to a chair near the window looking out over the city. They were just east of the city center, so it was one of the denser areas, with towering bamboo buildings arraigned around and sometimes on top of old stone ones, though those were being slowly replaced.

Mada unslung the bag of food from his shoulder and held it open for Nevets. He bent gingerly and grabbed a small copper-pod. Even the smell was terrible and tangy, but he knew his body needed the food if he was going to heal well. Besides, it would be childish to reject the food just because it tasted strange. Feeding them was another thing that Nagemai didn't have to do, but did anyway. It made Nevets uncomfortable to rely so much on her.

"You could have left me behind," Nevets said quietly. "Let me burn or just killed me. Instead, you slowed your army movements."

"True," Nagemai said, leaning over a table and comparing two maps of the city, one from before their attack and one marking the changes they’d made and troop positions.

"Why?"

"You weren't really a hindrance," Nagemai said. "I learned a long time ago that most things that slow you down really just give you time to do things right. As long as it isn't too slow that is. You were my reference for how long it would take my entire army to move to this position. Since we entered the city I’ve been adjusting the army’s speed to match yours to prepare for this eventuality."

Nevets couldn't decide if that was a load of slag or not. Nagemai seemed genuine enough, but Nevets felt like there was something she wasn’t saying.

"There's more to it than that," Mada said.

"Be sure to include perceptive in your report on Mada," Nagemai said to Nevets, still not looking at them as she worked. "I already decided not to kill you two. I'm not changing my mind unless you give me a really good reason to do so."

“And?” Mada asked.

Nagemai smiled at him. “And then there’s you. Honestly, I couldn’t care less about taking this city or this region. But you are worth having on my side, and I’m not going to jeopardize our relationship even if it would be convenient for me.”

“I guess it’s the second time I’ll have to thank you then,” Mada said. “Since I wouldn’t exist without you, Egeil.”

“True,” Nagemai said. “But I’d prefer if you didn’t use that name for me, especially not here. There are those that would kill me for it.”

“I’m sorry,” Mada said, eyes turning downward in embarrassment.

“No need to be,” Nagemai said. Then she just stared at Mada for a moment.

When he finally looked up he seemed shocked and looked down again. “What is it?”

“I was just thinking that it’s remarkable how emotive your face is, even though your eyes don’t change color,” Nagemai said. “It’s easy for us to forget that there’s more to emotional expression than the color of our eyes. And there is a color change. Like just now, your ears turned red. I’m guessing that was embarrassment from your expression and movement. Those kinds of cues are important to identifying the specifics of diordna emotion, but so often we miss the nuance of other’s emotions because we think we can see it all in their eyes.”

Nevets hadn’t noticed the red ears, but as she spoke she saw them redden again and Mada looked down, shifting his weight nervously at the scrutiny. She was right. Nevets would have to include these details in his report.

As he had that thought he stood. He needed to work on his report, and Nagemai had provided him with a parrot to keep notes on so he had no excuses. “I think I’m going to get to work.”

Nagemai nodded. “If you need anything just let me or Treblig know.”

“I will,” Nevets said, and he was a little surprised to realize that he trusted her to provide for them. A big change from when they first met the previous day.

Mada grabbed the bag of food and helped him walk across the room, but as they were entering the room Nagemai spoke.

“We’ll find Ekivia,” Nagemai said. “And I’ll get you all out of this safely.”

Nevets looked back at the general, hunched over the table. That moment reminded him just how short she was, and yet she had a greater presence, a confidence in the way she stood and spoke and acted. He’d expected a woman as tall or taller than Ekivia, height to match the reputation of the White General. But it wasn’t her physical size that got her that reputation. It was this power of her presence that had.

His eyes were drawn to her armor, white paint covered in dust and drying oil, chipped where shrapnel had struck it earlier. It looked like there might be a small piece of glistening iron bone embedded in it. That should have been disgusting, but at that moment it carried a meaning that filled Nevets with gratitude instead. To him, it was a symbol of what Nagemai had already done to protect him.

“Thank you,” Nevets said.

And as he entered the bedroom to begin his work he knew that she would continue to protect them.