Though he didn’t know Talanah very well, she treated him as a trusted colleague because of their mutual connection through Aloy. After eating he offered to look at the Hunting Ground records with her and made some suggestions. Thankfully his FOCUS translated the Carja glyphs that he wouldn’t have been able to read otherwise. She made sure he had his own room and bed and the next day, when Talanah left Daytower to head towards her next Hunting Ground, Kotallo offered her his mount. The Charger had remained where he’d left it and she mounted it gingerly.

“I’m used to killing these things,” she grumbled at his wry smile, “not riding them.”

“You’ll cover a great deal more ground, trust me.” Kotallo insisted.

“Good luck in the Sacred Lands and with the Nora,” Talanah looked up and saw Captain Balahn atop his balcony, “take care of my friend, Captain!”

“My word.” Balahn promised and Talanah rode away.

Kotallo wondered if he looked as awkward atop a machine as Talanah did the first time he’d ridden one.

There was little else to do except wait, which he despised but then he heard some of the soldiers bragging about their Machine Strike wins and pulled his favoured and well travelled pieces from his swag and challenged the Carja against the tribe that actually invented the game.

Unfortunately for the Carja, Kotallo had countless hours of experience and excellent strategies. One by one they walked away, shaking their heads, muttering ‘should have seen that coming’. When one opponent groused almost angrily, Balahn, who had been watching with an amused look on his face, put his hand on the soldier’s shoulder.

“After what the Carja brutes did to the Tenakth, be grateful Marshal Kotallo only exacts his vengeance through a tactical game and not a dual to the death.”

Kotallo reset the board, admiring the new piece he’d won. It wasn’t a particularly powerful piece on the board but it was uniquely carved. His Tenakth pieces had been mocked initially for their rustic appearance but that didn’t make them less effective on the board.

“Care to play, Captain?” He asked.

“Oh no, I’ve never managed to wrap my head around it,” Balahn held up his hand, “and after watching you defeat half my soldiers, I’m worried I’m going to have to put them on leave to nurse their wounded prides. We might have to have you back for a rematch.”

“A long way to travel for a game.” Kotallo glanced at the sky, seeing the sun starting to come down in earnest, the world turning hues of red and gold and the shadows growing long and black. Balahn turned and saw what he was looking at.

“I’m afraid our scouts haven’t sighted Erend yet.” Balahn cleared his throat. “Is it possible they went via the northern gate rather than down through Daytower?”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“As far as I am aware, they were making for Daytower.” Kotallo was torn between looking for Erend and Zo and heading east. He kicked himself that he hadn’t told them of his plan to meet them at Daytower and was too far from the Spire for it to amplify his signal.

“There’s still enough light for people to travel. They might make the fortress yet today.”

Kotallo nodded. “If not, I will set out tomorrow morning. Even if I miss Erend and Zo here, I could not miss them at the Embrace.”

Night had fallen and the tavern was well lit with heavy drinkers and wary Strike players when Kotallo’s presence was requested by Captain Balahn on the balcony.

“Before the sun set completely, a lookout thought he spied two travellers starting the mountain climb.” Balahn pointed. “Only desperate travellers attempt a mountain at night. If they made it to the gates, the guards should be escorting them through any minute now.”

Only five minutes later, Kotallo heard his name bellowed in the way an Oseram was uniquely qualified to do.

“Kotallo! By the fires of all the forges of the Claim!”

Erend, barrel chested and displaying impressive facial hair, clasped Kotallo’s arm and pulled him in for an Oseram handshake…which meant whole bodies clashing together almost violently.

“Kotallo,” Zo’s warm voice reached him and he turned to the Utaru, “it is both surprising and wonderful to see you.” She was as richly coloured as the earth of Plainsong, her home, her face marked with white painted petals, her body wrapped in woven reeds and her hair pulled back from her face. “You should have told us you were coming.”

“I…thought you might talk me out of it.” Kotallo admitted.

“Why would we ever do that?” Erend chortled.

“Because only now do I think perhaps I might make it more difficult for you to enter the Embrace…” Kotallo had heard the soldiers talking about the Nora all day and the way they refused to socialise with other tribes.

“It was never going to be an easy thing,” Zo sighed, “but perhaps we can show a united front across three tribes?” Her expression pained. “I’m sorry…I need to sit.” Suddenly Kotallo recalled the Zo was with child and hastened to get her a chair. She sank into it, rubbing her feet. “Thank you.” She eyed Erend sharply. “You were aware of how much my feet were hurting…would it have killed you to do as Kotallo just did?”

“My feet are aching as much as yours,” Erend argued, “and while you’re carrying a baby, I guarantee you I’m still heavier.”

Zo rolled her eyes. “No one is forcing you to wear all that metal or carrying that ridiculous hammer.”

“Where are your mounts?” Kotallo asked before they could descend into a spat.

“Stormbird caught sight of us crossing open ground,” Erend nodded to Captain Balahn as he approached, “lightning strike took them out. We had to abandon them to get out of its range.”

“We can pick up new mounts in the Sacred Lands.”

“Captain,” Balahn greeted Erend, “welcome back to Daytower.”

“Sorry for the late arrival.” Erend clasped his hand. “Stopped over at Free Heap.”

“The Oseram scrap settlement?”

“Petra told us there might be some willing volunteers there and they convinced us to stay the night. Nearly went through the northern pass but it’s still a mess from the machines the Shadow Carja stormed it with, so the Oseram Free Heapers tell me. They got a good commission from the Carja to rebuild it.” Erend looked around. “Don’t suppose you can put us up for the night, Balahn?”

“Of course,” Balahn looked between Zo and Erend, “one room…or two?”

“Two!” Erend and Zo exclaimed at once and Kotallo tried not to chuckle. He might have let out an amused smirk.

“I’ll bunk with Kotallo if that helps.” Erend offered.

Kotallo closed his eyes. “You snore like a Bristleback rooting for salvage.”

“I made myself ear mufflers,” Zo winked, “I’ll lend them to you.”

“Then we’ll rest up, drink up and head out at first light into the Sacred Lands.”