Ren walked the walls of Fort Katagari, hugging his cloak tight against the morning chill of the mountains. In the distant west the stone walls of the pass softened and gave way to a plateau dominated by the walls of a city and the towering structures within. Aranbul. Gateway to the west. Access point to the spice road. Currently besieged by the barbarian hordes. Lights glimmered in windows, sparkling gems in the predawn hours.

He’d been thinking for three days as he healed. His bodily excretions were finally blessedly devoid of any trace of blood, and walking didn’t feel like scraping crushed glass along his channels.

He still saw blood on his hands in the corner of his eyes. At first, the question of whether these hands could really be used to heal plagued him—but it was foolish. He’d already saved two lives with them.

The real question was, did he accept the safety and prestige offered to him down the path of a medic? Or did he step into the unknown.

Every time he decided to pursue the path of a healer, he saw the bodies of the noncombatants of Cloud Company 7, mangled and churned in the slaughterhouse of battle.

They hadn’t saved anyone. Not even themselves.

If he’d been stronger, Gunney might still have his hand, and the company might not be rotting in an open air mass grave. All a healer could do was mitigate the damage of what had already happened. Reduce the number of dead. But they prevented nothing.

He wanted the power to truly save.

And the image of a scorpion’s tail was somehow appealing to him. He set his jaw and nodded into the light of the rising sun. His path was chosen.

He returned to the infirmary to gather what few things he had. Holding the brass butterfly pin in front of his mouth he whispered, “Ancestor, I hope I make you proud.” Then it went back in his pocket.

“Packing up, are we?” Gunney was looking a whole lot better. He’d even been talking about fashioning a prosthetic to hold a bow with. “Does that mean you’ve made a decision?”

Noor and Kareem approached as well.

“I’m joining the irregulars.”

Kareem’s face twisted for a moment before smoothing out.

“Something wrong?” asked Ren.

Kareem didn’t meet his eyes. Hadn’t met his eyes since they reached the fort. “It’s just I’ve heard some unsavory things. Didn’t you have any better offers?”

Ren didn’t answer.

“I’ve heard—my father says—Captain Azam is a boy toucher.”

Ren rolled his eyes. “You believe everything your father tells you?”

Kareem’s face pinched with doubt. “I… don’t know anymore.”

“Fine. While I appreciate the concern, you might do well to bite your tongue the next time you feel compelled to spew another unfounded rumor. I’ve had enough.” Ren’s blood rose and he spat on the polished stone floor. “People have feared and hated and distrusted me because they think I’m an empyrean, when I don’t have a drop of blood from that land or its people. You spent months insulting and harassing me. You beat me. Called me a coward. But it was me who saved you. And it’s you who can’t even meet my eye or muster the strength to say the words ‘thank you’.”

Amira, tucked inside his tunic as she was, stirred against his stomach and he took a breath to calm himself.

Kareem’s face reddened and his fists clenched at his sides, but still he didn’t meet Ren’s gaze.

Noor put a hand on his elbow. “I’ve heard they’re serious badasses, but it’s super dangerous. Be careful.”

Gunney nodded. “A man must choose his own path.”

Ren hugged his two friends, grabbed his stuff, and left without another glance at the lieutenant.

***

“I’m happy to hear this is your choice,” said Azam, his eyes twinkling. “I had a feeling you would, so I made some preparations.”

Ren quirked an eyebrow. Then kicked himself mentally. It was so easy to relax around the man that he kept forgetting he was talking to a superior officer. “Preparations, sir?”

“Before we take you to our training facility, I want you to test at the arena in Katarn and watch the Rankings with me. What we do is dependent on information and planning. Nothing better to get the noggin buzzing than observing competitors fight.”

“That isn’t for another two months, right? What do I do till then?”

Azam took out a token and handed it to Ren. “This will get you passage on the river ferry system. Raven Company 3 is leaving today. They’ll take you as far as the ferry station at Kunigs Crossing. I’m coordinating some teams in the cleanup of the remaining bandits who’ve been sabotaging our supply chain. I’ll meet you in Katarn in a month with a lance of irregulars. You’ll travel North to Rattan with us at that time.”

“Katarn? Really?”

“You’ll be sequestered for a year while you train. I figured you might want to visit your family in the meantime?”

“How did you kno-”

“Information is our business. You don’t think I’d offer you a spot without learning all there is to know do you?” A wicked grin crossed his face, and Ren gulped.

“Well, thank you, sir.”

Azam nodded. “Yes, yes. You’d better get going, Raven Company 3 should be leaving any moment now.”

Ren saluted and ran from the room. Amira yelped angrily from inside his shirt, protesting the sudden motion, but he didn’t slow down.

***

Kunig’s Crossing was a town of bridges. The northern districts were cut up according to the four tributaries that converged to form the Upper River Ardus. The town had been revitalized by the council’s various infrastructure initiatives over the past hundred years and the variety in architectural styles were clear evidence of this. Exposed pipes provided after-the fact plumbing to empyrean pagodas, blocky earthen tiers of garden adorned housing, and multi story wood and brick shops and apartments alike.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

But the air was heavy, the smiles strained, and not just a few cheeks were hollow. A boy and girl in ratty clothes walked through the market begging, and he couldn’t help but see his siblings' faces in theirs.

Ren bade farewell to his escort and looked up to the clock tower which rose beside the steepled domes of a temple of light. With a few hours to spare, and a growing thirst that gnawed at him, he approached a tavern only to stop as Amira started whined.

He backed away and she stopped. Approached and she started again.

He decided to wait at the ferry station instead.

The heavenly aroma of spiced meats drew him to a food stall charging a month’s rent for each skewer. In an act of self pity, he reached into his belt pouch to remind himself how broke he was. Instead of nothing, his hand found an envelope that clinked when he pulled it out.

It was from Azam. Ripping it open, he found two silver coins and a letter.

Consider this a bonus. I know you have a debt to pay down, but I’d consider saving a portion of everything you earn so you aren’t broke by the time your family is free. Just a thought.

-Azam

Ren put one coin in his pouch, then looked between the meat stand and the coin. The memory of a fancy shirt shredded to tatters on the day of purchase entered his mind.

He pulled out a hard piece of ration flatbread and crunched down on it. It wasn’t great, but it eased his hunger. Suddenly, he wondered what prices for dolls were like in the current economy. Might as well head to the market and find out.

*****

The Radiance of Kunig’s Crossing strode through the halls of the Temple of Light toward the infirmary. A lost member of the Isvara’s flock had returned, and her faith was strong.

She stopped outside the door and listened as the fallen paladin gave her account.

“I woke from that blackest of nights, my dying body wrapped around the last of my followers. My soul tainted by the same darkness that had taken his life. All I wanted was to join him. But then the sun rose, and in the light I heard the voice of Isvara once again. He reached into my heart and banished the shadow that had taken root. He filled my limbs with strength to walk and guided me here.”

The Radiance stepped into the room and regarded the grey haired warrior in the bed. She’d heard tales of Hari Bright-Blade and the events that led to her downfall. The woman before her had done terrible things, had become a cautionary tale told to new initiates, and now, with the fervor burning in those molasses dark eyes, she would become the ultimate proof of Isvara’s greatness, kindness, fairness, redemption. If Isvara was powerful enough to bring a whoremongering, traitorous murderer back into the light, what couldn’t he do?

But that would come later.

The Radiance cleared her throat and said, “Tell me more about this shadow you encountered.” It seemed the inquisitors might have some work to do.

*****

Garam grabbed a knife from the kitchen as he limped toward the door. Norn should be on patrol and he couldn’t think of anyone else who would be visiting him. Unbolting the door, he shuffled back a step, hiding the blade behind his back with the hand that wasn’t busy holding him up on a crutch.

The door swung in with a flurry of autumn leaves fluttering upon the breeze. In the doorway stood a figure in the brown garb of a woodsman, complete with hatchet, quiver, bow, and plentiful belt-pouches. On his shoulder was a patch denoting rank within the Northern Brigade of Ardus.

But his face was just like- “Ren?”

The visitor smiled. “Good to see you Garam. It’s been too long.”

Sure enough, it was him, the little street kid. But he was taller, his face harder, and there was a glint of danger in his eye that Garam had seen in many men who’d seen friends’ blood spill, and spilt some themselves.

Ren charged forward and arms that had grown much stronger in the past year wrapped around Garam. He tucked his knife into his belt and enfolded the boy with a one arm hug. “Good to see you too, kid.”

They moved to a table and Garam sent Ren down to the cellar to grab a dusty bottle of whatever he could find. They talked, and a little fox cub ran about their feet till the light that filtered through the cracks in the boarded up windows faded and it was just candles that kept light.

Seven flames, it was nice to see the boy again.

He invited Ren to stay for the couple weeks he had in town and the kid accepted.

*****

Ren helped Garam into the bed that had been moved to the back so the man wouldn’t have to climb stairs. His leg was bad and he’d lost a lot of weight.

Ren was surprised to find the place spotless, aside from the cellar. Norn even seemed to be keeping up with cleaning the guest rooms often enough to prevent a buildup of dust. She was on patrol tonight, so he had his pick of the rooms. Ren picked one at the end of the hall and peaked up into the attic that had sheltered him a year before. It almost felt like nothing had changed since those days, till he settled into bed and the quiet pressed in on him.

The next morning he woke lashing out at the air with a yell, bed drenched in a cold sweat, Amira licking at his face. He breathed and peeked between the window boards to see he’d beaten the sun to rising. It seemed his body couldn’t let go of the marching schedule of Cloud Company 7. He made his way to the kitchen, pulled some herbs from a pouch and got to work.

Some hours later, Garam entered with a grunt.

“Perfect timing,” Ren said over his shoulder as he poured the contents of a pot into an empty jar he’d found.

“Ashura’s tit’s. How long have you been up, kid?” The inn keeper sniffed and scrunched his face. “What are you doing? It smells like a horse’s asshole in here.”

“I made a gift for you.”

“You can keep your gift if it’s the source of that stench.”

Ren just smiled. “Take a seat Garam, and let me see your leg.”

The big man scowled but assented, grimacing his way down into a chair and pulling up his pant leg to reveal a swollen, misshapen knee.

“Damn. I- didn’t realize how bad it was.”

Garam chuckled. “I’ve done worse to men in my day. But damn the fuckers who jumped me. If I see that big bastard with the plate in his face…” He seemed to reconsider his words, and sighed. “I’ll probably get away as fast as I can. He was a cultivator, and a strong one. Maybe in my prime, with a proper war club in my hand…”

As the words churned in his mind, a wave of conflicting emotions hit Ren all at once , along with the remembered sounds of a throat tearing free of a body. “You won’t be seeing him again.”

Garam tilted his head, and when Ren didn’t continue, he said, “What’s that supposed to mean? You know him? I think his name was Basher.”

“Ya,” suddenly Ren couldn’t meet the eyes of his friend and benefactor. “I met him when I was living on the streets. Hardly believed it when I saw him again in a cave full of bandits-” Anger warred with shame for his heart. “If I’d have known it was him that did this to you- I…” What more could he have done? His survival was a miracle already and the man was dead.

“None of that now.” Garam smiled weakly. “It’s good enough you made it back in one piece. Norn is going to be thrilled.”

“By that you mean she’s going to insult me then possibly beat me for not writing last month.”

Garam’s forced smile bloomed into a true one full of joy and affection, his eyes crinkling. “I suppose she might.”

“You headed to see your family today?”

Ren nodded. “Ya, now that the sun’s up I was hoping to catch them before they leave for whatever duties the Osirus are putting them up to today.” He looked down at Garam’s knee again. “But before that—” he pulled the cap of the jar he’d filled free “—let’s see if this helps.”

He gently slathered the smelly green salve on to Garam’s leg. If it worked, maybe he could find a way to mitigate the odor in his next batch.

Once both of them had staunched the tears drawn from their eyes by the acrid odor, the lines on Garam’s face softened. The inflammation even seemed to have lessened.

“Damn,” said the big parvethi. “That’s pretty good stuff. Might be worth the cost of having to smell it.” Their eyes met and they started laughing.

At last, it was time for Ren to see his family.