Kotallo reached the base of the cliffs that led into the Cut, territory of the Banuk, late the second night after leaving the Embrace.

He was alone.

Before they’d left the Embrace with their two volunteers, Kotallo, Erend and Zo discussed what to do with them and whether or not to take them to meet the Banuk.

“I feel like we’d just be overwhelming them,” Erend said surprisingly sympathetically, “I mean, Nakoa sounds like she’s been outside of the Sacred Lands but Teb…he’s an Embrace boy.”

“The sooner we get them back to the base, educating them on the way…” Zo nodded. “But we still need to go to the Cut.”

“I’ll go.” Kotallo said firmly. “It makes sense for me to go.”

“You sure? From what Aloy told me it’s a dangerous climb up icy cliffs into unfriendly and bitter cold territory…” Erend snapped his fingers. “What am I saying? Sounds like home for you.”

Kotallo smiled. “Exactly. With you and Zo escorting the Nora to the west, through the Sundom, I can reach the Banuk and hopefully not be too far behind you.”

Teb and Nakoa, nervous but determined, had received the blue mark of a Death Seeker. There were two lines of blue above their right eyebrows and another that looked like a sickle while there was a single streak across their left cheeks. Once the mark was made, the Nora turned their backs and let them leave. The mood was sombre and Kotallo was grateful Teersa had warned them to be ready to go the moment the ceremony was over. It was no longer a pleasant place to be for Teb or Nakoa.

They said very little to each other until they were outside of the Embrace. Because they were still in the Sacred Lands, Erend, Zo and Kotallo were mindful of their promise not to start telling them about the FARO plague, Zeniths, Nemesis and the end of the world. But they did give them FOCUSES and their first lesson was how to override Striders. Nakoa managed to get the hang of it quickly enough while Teb struggled. As Erend had inferred, Teb had been Nora indoctrinated through and through. He was there because he wanted to help Aloy and Kotallo could see he was discouraged by his lack of intuitiveness.

But Zo and Erend both had encouragements for him. Zo saying that every seed grows at its own pace and Erend saying, if he could figure it out, so would Teb.

With all five riding Striders, they made up for lost time chasing the herd that had scattered when Teb messed up his first override and didn’t stop until they reached the point where their paths diverged. Erend, Zo, Teb and Nakoa went left, avoiding Mother’s Crown in accordance with their promise to the matriarchs. Kotallo went right and to the north, riding until he couldn’t see the path, found an old ruin to camp in as it was raining and hunkered down for the night.

His Strider picked up the presence of two Scrappers closing in on his position in the night. While it distracted them with its attack and killed one while Kotallo destroyed the other, it was irreparably damaged so he had to start out on foot the next day. Bad luck seemed to follow him with Strider herds scattering before he could get close or a random Watcher sending out a warning screech and Kotallo sprinting away before the Bellowbacks could also take offense to his presence.

Finally, a little out of the way of his northward trek, he managed to override a Charger and despite the light failing while the snow was falling as the ground hardened from earth to stone, Kotallo had ridden until he reached the base camp he’d been told about. Exhausted and warmed by a fire he was able to rekindle quickly from the coals buried beneath the ash, Kotallo fell asleep, knowing he would scale the cliffs in the morning.

When he woke, he felt a chill down his spine as he realised he’d been sleeping almost within the embrace of a metal devil. A HORUS, with its long tendrils that stabbed, strangled and pierced rock and metal, was frozen with its body locked in rock.

“I don’t think I would have slept quite so well if I’d known that was there.” Kotallo muttered. He had to force himself to turn and look at the cliff. It didn’t intimidate him but he was grateful he’d brought his artificial arm with him.

His camp was quickly packed away and he left his Charger behind as he gripped the handholds and began to climb. Hand over hand, his feet in his flexible Nora boots braced against the cliff and on ledges he climbed until he reached a short plateau and then another stretch of cliff and then another. It became so high that if he looked over his shoulder, he couldn’t see land, only clouds.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Finally, when even his arms began to ache and his breath was sharp and his chest, tight, he reached an uphill walk. Though it was steep, it was a welcome reprieve as he followed the markers that weren’t buried in the snow. As he climbed, his face down as he almost charged the slope, he heard a loud horn echo above.

“Outlander on the mountain!”

He looked up and saw, even higher still on an outcrop, a large horn and two fierce looking individuals that could only be Banuk.

“That’s quite a welcome,” Kotallo breathed heavily, “better than an arrow in the eye.”

The path led into a tunnel through the mountain where, astonishingly, it felt even colder. Kotallo wondered if the walls were not stone but ice.

“Come on through, outlander,” a voice called to him and he spied two more Banuk on a ledge with an excellent view of the tunnel, no doubt sentries to keep the Cut safe from invaders, “you’re one of few to reach Song’s Edge.”

“I’m looking for Aratak.” Kotallo called, continuing to advance on their elevated position.

“What business has a…whatever you are…”

“Tenakth.”

“A Tenakth with the Banuk’s mightiest werak Chieftain?”

“I bring a message from Aloy.” Kotallo saw that her name immediately made them take notice.

“Ask any of the Banuk around the main campfire in Song’s Edge. We know not where Aratak is but they’ll know.”

“My thanks.” Kotallo nodded. “Walk with the Ten.”

He headed right and up further still until the tunnel through the mountain opened onto a plateau where a Banuk settlement clung to the rock, snow and ice. Kotallo walked through the village and noticed that while the Banuk saw him, they weren’t running scared or even whispering about him. There was curiosity naturally but no fear or concern.

Kotallo immediately liked the Banuk. They weren’t given to hysterics.

Through the settlement he walked until he spied the main campfire. A woman was talking with a friend when she saw him and her eyes sharpened. She wore a fur lined hood around her face and her skin was burned, probably from the snow than the sun. She immediately approached him.

“Now that’s a visage I would happily paint,” she said by way of a greeting, “what a mural you and your colours would make. I don’t suppose you’d sit for me to take your etching?”

Kotallo raised an eyebrow. “Do you start all conversations in this manner?”

“The drive of an artist,” she shrugged and smiled, “so much of what the Banuk do is repetition of the old ways…and yet I crave new inspiration. It’s why I painted that…”

She waved her hand to a sheer cliff face above the settlement, reached by scaffolding, ropes and tethers. On it Kotallo saw a woman with red hair astride a Strider, bow in hand, facing off against machines.

“Aloy…”

“You know of my muse, then?” She pursed her lips. “Her story was inspiring…and that red hair…what a joy to paint.”

Kotallo’s heart sank. It seemed there was no where he could go that would separate him from Aloy and the effect her presence had, on others and on himself.

“I’m looking for Aratak,” he said to the woman, “my name is Kotallo and I come in Aloy’s name with a message.”

“I’m Sekuli,” she greeted, “and now you have my attention entirely…and not just on your handsome form.” He coughed, embarrassed as Sekuli winked then laughed. “Take a compliment, Kotallo…and sit by the fire. The climb to Song’s Edge isn’t an easy or a warm one. I know where Aratak is.”

He did as he was told, stretching his hands out to the fire then shaking his head, laughing internally at himself. He used his right hand to unlock his left arm from his body and put it in his swag. As he lifted his head, he caught sight of unguarded and very nearly hysterical looks of astonishment on the faces of the Banuk.

“Never seen a one armed man before?”

“Never seen one with metal bonded to skin like that before.” The Banuk shook his head.

“Are you a shaman?” Another asked.

Kotallo wanted to ask what a shaman was but felt like he’d look foolish. “No, I am not.”

“Don’t let any of them see that arm of yours,” the Banuk chuckled, shaking his head as he left the campfire, “they’ll go all super spiritual on you.”

Kotallo chewed on some dried meat from his swag and felt himself starting to defrost. “I’ve spent too much time away from the Sheerside Mountains.” He muttered. “I shouldn’t find this cold.”

An hour later, Sekuli returned with a man who wore a headdress made from a Scrapper’s skull over a hood of orange leather that wrapped around his neck. He was as tall as he was broad but he carried himself with a lightness of foot that said, despite his size, that he could move fast. His shoulders were covered in fur and there were bands of colour hanging across his green tunic, his feet clad in thick, warm boots.

Kotallo stood as they came close, sensing a man who was not to be taken lightly.

“Aratak, this is Kotallo.” Sekuli introduced and then, discreetly, slipped away.

Aratak’s eyes were set beneath thick eyebrows and Kotallo wondered if he was capable of any other expression other than glaring. “I do not recognise your clan, outlander.” He said in a voice that was so deep Kotallo felt it beneath his boots.

“I am Tenakth. I hail from the far west, beyond the Sundom and the land of the Utaru.” Kotallo explained.

“And you have a message from Aloy?” Aratak’s tone was sceptical to say the least.

“She bade me to bring it to you,” Kotallo recalled what Aloy had said, “and says your former Chieftain requires your aid.”

Aratak stood up straight at this. “I see…so you are not a charlatan or a fool…then come to my tent where we can speak in private.”

Kotallo followed, ducking his head beneath the flap of the tent, reaching for the ember which would leave Aratak forever altered.