Kotallo spent an uneasy night in the shadow of Barren Light. He and the other selected Tenakth delegates, Jira from the Lowland Clan, Virek of the Desert Clan and Catra of the Sky Clan declined to sleep in the Carja fortress itself. The Carja Commander, Lawan who succeeded the previous commander Nozar after he was cut down when Regalla attacked the previous Embassy, did not question or insist upon the Tenakth staying in Barren Light. He recognised that the Carja fortress was a place of bad memories and old blood.

In the morning Lawan’s delegated soldiers and a Sun Priest, the Eager Eamon, a young man who seemed excited and terrified all at once at being in the untamed west, joined the Tenakth and they journeyed to Chainscrape. They didn’t stop, skirting around the primarily Oseram settlement. Kotallo marvelled at the difference a tribe could make. The Carja fortress and even the Carja themselves smelt of florals, as if they wore perfume. The Oseram smelt of ale and grease, not unlike Erend.

He wondered what the Tenakth smelt like.

There was a short journey to the cable car, a pulley system with a platform attached that bridged the gap between the Daunt’s deep valley floor and the top of the mountains that prevented any full scale invasion of the west. The other Tenakth were suspicious and even frightened of the lift, rising higher and higher until they could see even Barren Light from their height.

Kotallo smiled ruefully at their antics and knew, had it been a scant few months earlier, he would have been the same. Not that heights bothered him, being originally of the Sky Clan and having grown up behind the Bulwark and climbed the March of the Ten before he was eighteen. But of all the things he had experienced and his knowledge of what the old world entailed, the cable car did little to dazzle him.

His quiet strength seemed to settle the other Tenakth but they were all relieved when they could step off on the plateau above and unload their swags.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The air was frigid and cold in Kotallo’s lungs, icy to breathe in and he felt a cough try to escape which he resisted. He might not be of the Sky Clan anymore, wearing a Marshal’s colours, but he was not about to act as though the cold air was unfamiliar.

Certainly not in the presence of Virek who seemed relieved to be out of the warm, lush Daunt. Jira and Catra were less at ease at the chill in the air.

“How far to Meridian?” Kotallo asked the Sun Priest who immediately began to roll out his scroll. “Do you honestly not know or you have to read it?”

The young priest faltered then put the scroll away. “Forgive me, noble Tenakth…but I was told that all necessary interactions with you was to be through the scroll…”

“It’s a solid three days to get out of the mountains,” one of the soldiers ventured, “and that’s just to reach the pass north of Sunfall. Then it’s nearly another two to reach Meridian.”

The other soldier cleared his throat. “Pity we don’t have an Oseram carriage to transport our swags…and those heavy totems.”

Kotallo would have argued against their laziness but the totems were exceptionally heavy. And on top of their weight was a chest of Carja war paraphernalia that Hekarro wanted returned to Meridian. In exchange he hoped for Tenakth tags that all soldiers wore and were taken as war trophies by the Carja.

“Are there machines this high up?” He asked.

“Glinthawks and the occasional Stormbird,” the first soldier insisted, “as long as we keep out of their line of sight…”

“I am not afraid of the machines,” Kotallo muttered and the soldier clamped his lips shut, frightened he had offended the stoic Tenakth Marshal, “but if anyone sights a Charger or Bristleback herd, let me know.” He immediately shouldered his swag. “We have at least two hours left of daylight. I will not waste them.”

The small company hastened to keep up with the one armed Marshal who walked across the plateau, taking the only path available to them that led further east. He paused at the apex and glanced back at the Daunt, the west…his home and his sorrow.

His heart ached and he closed his eyes.

He would not wallow. She had made her feelings clear.

It was over…

So Kotallo turned and put his ache and pain into his stride, one foot in front of the other, wading through snow as it began to fall in earnest, hoping the chill would numb his emotions.