Vesper, Five Days Before the Ides of May

Town Hall, Larkins, Bahim, Drum

Kate Rinehart, now Vice-Captain of Aegis after the death of Jerome, had accomplished the extraordinary feat of holding Larkins against four attacks, each of which had consisted of least two hundred men. She herself led only fifty revolutionaries. She was not satisfied with this, however. She wanted to push south towards Gulldon. Taking Gulldon would open up a path to infiltrate Tarrin.

She was discussing with a few of her men a dawn attack to break through the enemy siege.

“By Sext,” said Kate. “Gulldon will be ours.”

“Kate,” said Jack Anselm, who had been standing behind her. “I will go with you.”

Kate turned to look at Jack. His eyes were wide with fear and yet his jaw was clenched in fierce determination. Initially Jack had spent most of his days alone in his room, distraught at the unfolding chaos. Yet when he had ventured outside and seen the indiscriminate slaughter of the helia, led by the Morrow Family, Jack had begun asking Kate whether he could fight alongside her. Kate had declined each time, saying that he was far too weak. This had led Jack to train his Connexion every day, without fail.

“Very well,” said Kate.

Jack’s eyes widened further.

It was then that the messenger bird landed at the windowsill of the main hall and tapped its beak on the glass. Kate retrieved it herself. As she read the letter, she became paler and paler, and by the time she finished her hands were shaking.

“What is it, Kate?” said Jack.

“We are to retreat from Larkins,” said Kate. “Captain’s orders.”

“Retreat now?” said one of the men. “We can defend Larkins. With you, Vice-Captain —”

“I am to go find Logan Floyd,” said Kate, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

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Silence befell the town hall. The air turned icy cold. Kate turned and walked away.

“Kate —”, said Jack.

She did not look back.

Cyrill Forest

Logan awoke to soft lights dancing on his eyelids. He sat up but was struck by a tearing pain in his abdomen. He coughed up black blood. He tried to steady himself with his hands to get up to his feet but found he had no strength in his legs.

“I would suggest that you get more rest,” said a female voice from his side.

Logan turned his aching head to face the direction of the voice but his face was so blurry that he could only just make out a vaguely human silhouette.

“Where am I,” said Logan.

“Cyrill Forest,” said the voice. “Where else? Lie down.”

A soft hand pressed him down and Logan found that he had no strength to resist. It was then that Logan remembered his encounter with the spider-monsters. He remembered their terrible faces, but remembered little else.

“So I did not die,” said Logan.

“No,” said the voice. “But you were very close.”

“Did you bring me here.”

“Yes.”

“You saved my life.”

“Yes.”

“Why,” said Logan.

“That is what we do,” said the voice. “We Deer Lops, we are the healers of this forest.”

“What do you plan to do with me,” said Logan.

“Once you have rested and you have healed,” said the Deer Lop. “You are free to go.”

“You expect nothing in return?”

“As the Forest gives to us, we give to the Forest,” said the Deer Lop.

“You did not need to save me,” said Logan. “I wished to die.”

“Do you still wish to die.”

Logan thought about this for a moment. No, of course he did not wish to die. But for him, to live meant to kill. From childhood he had been on the battlefield. He was sent out to war with Drum from the age of fourteen. The war had lasted five years, reaching a ceasefire only when Logan defected. Then had come three years of drifting from town to town, running from bounty hunters. And now here was a revolution. He was too weary for life.

“You are right to be afraid,” said the Deer Lop. “The war will spread, through Cyrill and Maple.”

“How do you know of the revolution,” said Logan.

“We know a lot more than that,” said the Deer Lop. “We are Seers.”

Logan managed a chuckle, but then bent over and coughed out more blood. “And what future do you See for me.”

There was a silence, long enough to make Logan turn to look again at the Deer Lop. His vision was slightly clearer now. He could see an olive-skinned woman in a headdress made of briars. In the centre of the headdress shined an emerald, but the woman’s deep green eyes shined even brighter than the gemstone.

“Logan Floyd,” said the woman. “You already know your future.”

“You know my name,” said Logan.

“Yes.”

“What is your name.”

“Esmeralda,” said the woman.

“Esmeralda,” said Logan. “You look nothing like a deer”.

The woman smiled, then left him. Logan fell again into his slumbers.