Kotallo led her out of Stone Crest, down a sharp incline, beneath a stone arch and over a bridge to the valley floor, the world painted white and black and every shade of grey in between. As they moved quickly they passed by machine sites, some closer and others further away. Kotallo felt his neck grow hot with shame as the memory of the dangerous liaisons he and Olenka had experienced returned to him. Those months he’d been in her thrall, he’d clearly given up any drop of common sense his parents or Gerrah had hoped to instil in him.

The embarrassment made him walk all the faster as he burned in silence, not giving much consideration to his travelling companion. He was taller but to the outlander’s credit, she kept up with him.

And she continued to ask questions.

“How would you convince Tekotteh to send his challengers?”

“I wouldn’t.” He said darkly, keeping his eyes forward.

“Ugh…come on…”

How would this woman, barely more than a child and an outlander no less, be able to stand before Tekotteh and not be a laughing stock as she ordered him to submit. She knew nothing about the Tenakth.

“The Tenakth respect a blade,” he said sharply, “and the strength of the one who wields it.” He glared at where his arm used to be. “What good is anyone who lacks that?”

He could hear her following him without letting up her pace, her boots crunching in the snow.

“Well, lucky for us we’re both good fighters…but let’s hope it won’t come to that.”

He grunted in reply, knowing that she was hoping in ignorance.

They crossed over a stream that gushed strongly. Even though the Sheerside Mountains were always covered in snow, sometimes, in the valley, other seasons peeked through. Often this stream was frozen over but summer was upon them. It was never warm enough to rid the valley completely of snow but it did melt enough that the streams challenged their banks as they flowed towards the ocean.

“So this whole valley is the Sky Clan’s territory?”

“Yes,” he replied, “the clan has defended it for generations.”

“Against who?”

“The other Tenakth clans…even the Carja.” He was a poor storyteller and in no mood to enlighten the outlander of things she ought to already know when this deep in Tenakth territory. “If you want a history lesson, talk to the chaplains.”

If he thought he could dissuade her questions, he was mistaken.

“When you left the Grove, how did you know I’d agree to help Hekarro?”

It was strange. Kotallo had never even considered the possibility that Hekarro would not convince her. After observing the Chief for years, Kotallo knew there was little point in refusing him.

“When the Chief wants to persuade someone, he succeeds.” Before she could say something else he stopped in his forward haste and hunkered down, his eyes catching sight of rebels hacking at a machine. “Gut them or sneak around. I will follow.”

Kotallo was not afraid of a scrap and if he was honest, he would have cut down any rebels he came across without hesitation. However, he wanted to see how the outlander would deal with them. She hunkered down in the grass and fiddled with something on the side of her head. Perhaps all outlanders were adorned with strange triangular machine parts above their right ears or it might be peculiar to her. Either way, once she had taken stock of the three rebel party, she proceeded to dispatch them silently and with admirable swiftness.

By this stage the snow and stone had given up its stranglehold on the valley and the warmest autumn hues spread out around them. Burnt reds, husky oranges, leaves that were yellow and crisp and the breeze was fragranced with the light scent of blooms, accentuated by the warmer air. Her questions seemed to have run dry and Kotallo was grateful for the quiet as they waded across the river where he and Olenka had engaged the Stalkers and then each other. He even knew the exact spot and cursed his foolishness.

“Those rebels were gathering machines parts, maybe to make more overrides,” Kotallo said nothing as there seemed to be nothing that could be said, “and Tekotteh won’t do anything?”

“Why would he,” Kotallo responded, “when he has the Bulwark?” They continued to jog through the forest. “I grew up behind the wall. It is easy to have a false sense of safety there.” He heard the harsh words of soldiers ahead and ducked his head down, peering through the grasses. “More rebels. I’ll follow your lead.”

Though there were twice as many, the outlander dispatched the rebels with practiced ease, even able to cut down the ones who bore shields like Regalla’s champion, Grudda, had. She struck them from behind, driving their bodies into the long grass, hiding their corpses until they could both stand up and stretch their legs, no longer in danger as the camp had been cleared.

Kotallo wondered at their brazen campsite. The other three rebels had chanced upon or cut down a machine on the side of the path and took advantage of it. These rebels had camped in full sight of the road without a drop of fear of discovery.

Tekotteh had done nothing to warrant fear or respect.

He was allowing the rebels to completely control the valley.

It seemed the outlander seemed to share Kotallo’s concern.

“Back at Stone Crest, you said the rebels had been moving through here for days. By the time Tekotteh realises he’s outmatched, this whole valley might be overrun.”

He didn’t even care about the rest of the Sky Clan, just his precious Bulwark.

“If not for the sake of the clan, I would welcome that day.” He admitted, leading her around the curve of the mountain, along the path that would take them directly to the Bulwark. Had he not been honour bound to take the outlander there himself, he could have pointed the way and kept on walking, hopefully losing himself somewhere obscure. “To see his pride ruined…” He heard himself confess and wondered if she had heard him.

“Okay,” from the tone of her voice, she had and she was a little perturbed by it, “well…maybe we can change his mind.”

Had she heard nothing of what he had said?

“You would sooner move mountains.” He muttered, leading her out of the forest onto the frosty valley floor and the Bulwark came into view. He had seen it as a child and been frightened of the enormity of it. As an adult, it was equally intimidating. It had lost none of its presence and hadn’t become smaller just because he was older.

It was blazoned with Sky Clan colours and fan shaped arcs of wood and atop the front edge of the Bulwark were wide paths so that the Sky Clan could mock those who hammered uselessly at the giant boulders.

“Here it is, the Bulwark,” he said unnecessarily, “let me know when you are ready and I will announce us.”

“Let’s not waste any time.” She said.

He reached into his pack and drew out a longleg throat horn and put it to his lips, his lungs filling with air then ripping out of the instrument, causing a tenor tone to bounce off the boulders, the sound unable to be ignored.

For a moment, no one appeared at the lift’s edge but finally a sentry looked out yet said nothing.

“You there!” Kotallo cried. “A Marshal requests an audience with your clan Commander!”

“I didn’t know there were any Marshals left!” The sentry challenged. “We defend the path to the mountain!”

“Where the Wings of the Ten shall find us!” Kotallo responded, giving the correct answer.

“Alright Marshal, I’ll send the lift for you.”

The wooden cage descended from the lip of the Bulwark’s edge. By the time Kotallo and the outlander had walked up to the base of the Bulwark, it was resting on the ground and they stepped onto its base.

As it was drawn upwards, Kotallo’s heart sank.

He compensated by giving instructions to the outlander who seemed inordinately preoccupied with the Bulwark and not giving him her full attention.

“When we meet with Tekotteh, I’ll do the talking.”

“We’ll see how it goes.” She responded, showing that she was listening.

When the lift reached the top, Kotallo strode out, feeling rather than seeing the sentries recoil from him. His jaw tightened and he had to force his feet to keep moving, hardening himself to their stares and whispers. The walkway split into two to go around the Pit on either side, ascending upwards. Kotallo paused, feeling like a child once more.

“Back again…”

“So this was home.” She said in her textured tone.

Home…it should have engendered memories of comfort, of triumph and warmth.

Instead, all he felt was sorrow.

“A long time ago,” he said, his voice depending with grief which he covered by becoming gruff, “come on.”

He led her to the right, heading steadily upwards, moving from the walkway made of wood lashed together and smoothed over many years of soldiers walking up and down its length to steps of stone, some laid and others carved which continued their ascent.

As Kotallo walked, he heard the whispers began to mount.

“Is that…Kotallo?”

“By the Ten…a cruel fate.”

“I thought he was dead.”

“Might as well be…”

He offered no explanation or conversation. He just wanted to get the inevitable over with. He didn’t even know if she was still with him, he was so focussed on putting one foot in front of the other. As they passed the stitcher’s alcove where two memories of Olenka tried to grind his already fragile pride into the dirt, the outlander remarked,

“Well, this is a warm welcome.”

What did she expect?”

“An outlander and a maimed Marshal?” Bile rose in his throat. “A spectacle.”

“Reminds me of where I grew up,” she said, offering something of herself, “I never decided which was worse…when they shunned me or when they stopped and stared.”

“Right now, I’d prefer shunned.” Kotallo muttered. Even the adoration and celebration of the Sky Clan as he returned a hero from Barren Light was better than the pity and mockery he could feel being directed at him.

They reached the entrance to the Commander’s Lodge and a guard barred the way.

“We’re here for Tekotteh,” Kotallo said with a warning note in his tone, “let us in.”

The guard nodded and immediately drew back the leather curtain which kept the breeze out of the lodge and they ducked their heads and went inside.

Dread washed over Kotallo. He knew it shouldn’t but it did. He pushed against the damning tide of memories, of hours lost playing Machine Strike, eating with Tekotteh and his bodyguards and, the worst of them all, when Tekotteh had accused him of having designs on the command of the Sky Clan, seeing not friend but foe and exiled him in the guise of honour. He had never wanted to return and now he was here in the worst possible capacity, in the worst state and in the worst company.

The lodge was warm and the best of Tekotteh’s warriors lounged inside, drinking and talking. Kotallo knew where Tekotteh would be, perched upon his throne. But while Chief Hekarro did so, almost poised for battle, Tekotteh’s recline was lordly as he leaned over the Machine Strike board, studying it as if there was nothing more threatening occurring in the valley than losing to his opponent. He didn’t rise or even look up, affording no honour at all.

Kotallo couldn’t give a damn about honour.

But he could see that Tekotteh’s girth was wider than it had been and his face was flushed with decadent eating and not enough healthy living.

Where was the man who had inspired so much in Kotallo?

Where was the warrior?

“The Sky Clan’s mighty son returns,” Tekotteh said flatly without looking at either of them, “bless the Ten.”

Kotallo ignored the coldness of his dismissive greeting.

“Your Chief has demanded an immediate dispatch of all challengers to the Kulrut.” He looked around, noting that the decadence was not limited to Tekotteh. The whole lodge stunk of overindulgence and laziness. It was like tree rot, the Sky Clan spoiling from the inside out. “We’re here to make sure yours haven’t gotten lost on their way to the Grove.”

“I see,” Tekotteh sniffed, barely looking at them, “Regalla must have dealt our Chief a mighty blow if he’s sending you two as messengers.”

Kotallo couldn’t refute a slight against himself for he didn’t think himself worthy to be Tenakth, let alone a Marshal. However, the outlander was not deserving of Tekotteh’s slander.

“This one defeated Regalla’s champion, Grudda, at the embassy.” He looked at her, seeing that she was not puffing out her chest or revelling in the proclamation of her triumph. She was as uncomfortable with it as he was. And Kotallo realised there was something he hadn’t told her. “She fought honourably.” She looked at him, surprise in her green eyes at his praise. He had hardly been pleasant towards her but at least, in this, he could be sincere.

“I had the sense to bar our soldiers from that embassy,” Tekotteh met their gaze, “just as I have the sense now to keep our challengers here. If they must fight, then they will fight here, defending our walls…our clan.”

“That wall,” the outlander spoke urgently, “won’t protect you, not from the machines Regalla controls. They’re already at your doorstep.”

Tekotteh gulped noisily from a jug of ale and wiped his face with the back of his hand, mockery in his voice as he answered her.

“And what do you know of the battles the Bulwark has withstood? The blood shed upon stone?”

Kotallo wanted to grab him by the scruff and shake him until his teeth fell out. The time for double talk was over.

“I know it wasn’t meant to be used as a coward’s shield.”

Tekotteh’s eyes locked onto his as he stood up. Kotallo felt the seven year old inside of him tremble in fear but he held firm as Tekotteh stomped down the steps that led to his throne, standing on the second step to keep himself higher.

“You were a great warrior once,” Tekotteh said with the smile a snake gave before it sank its teeth in and his hand clapped the stump of Kotallo’s left arm, causing him to wince when he really wanted to cry out and shy away, “but that was then.” He gave a huff as he glanced at the outlander. “Tell Hekarro, with all due respect, that we will keep our warriors here for as long as we are safe behind the Bulwark.” He turned to them, unafraid and unmoved then pointed them to the exit.

There was little else to be said as they left the lodge.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Kotallo fumed. Not only had he been proven right all along, he’d been publicly humiliated in the process. His anger was at breaking point as he confronted the outlander as they walked down the stone steps.

“I told you, words are useless with his kind.” He huffed and looked back at the lodge. “We’re going to have to kill him. It won’t be easy with all his men about…” Suddenly he realised he no longer had the outlander’s attention, if he had even had it to begin with. He turned to see that she was standing apart from him, her eyes staring at the wall that was below them. “Are you even listening?” He demanded.

She held up her hand. “For as long as we are safe behind the Bulwark, he said.” Kotallo was confused. “Wait here,” she looked at him, “I need to get a closer look at that wall.”

“What?” Kotallo blurted even as she darted away. He glanced back at the lodge then turned to her again as she descended. “Why?”

She gave him no explanation, no reason. She simply took off. Kotallo ran his hand over his head, wanting to grind his teeth. In the end he had no recourse but to follow her down, losing sight of her as the settlement rose up around him. An outlander in Tenakth territory was bad enough. An outlander in a clan’s capital was asking for trouble. And yet, try as he might, he could not see her. He did spy Gerrah on the far side of the Pit. He went to go to her then saw the smallest of gestures, her hand pressing down and he paused. Her eyes flickered upwards and instinctively he knew she was fearful of the lodge. If Tekotteh hadn’t figured out that Gerrah had something to do with Ram Squad attending the embassy, Kotallo was not about to expose her. To do so would bring punishment on the one person who did not deserve it.

She gave him a smile, one not drenched in pity which he gratefully received then she drew a cluster of tags out from around her neck and Kotallo’s throat tightened. He nodded at her, knowing that he couldn’t have trusted a better person with the memory of his fallen squad.

Finally Kotallo had no choice but to speak with a sentry, to find out where the outlander had gone.

“She went down in the lift.”

“She left?” Kotallo couldn’t contain his exclaim.

“She’s still here…I mean, there…” The sentry shrugged. “She’s been spotted climbing about like a rodent on the Bulwark on the northern side.”

For all her skill in battle, Kotallo was beginning to wonder if the outlander was quite right in the head. Without the outlander beside him, knowing he could never get close to Tekotteh on his own, he entered the lift and allowed it to take him away from his former home. He disembarked on the ground and turned, trying to see where the foolish girl had gone. He finally spied her mane of red as she clambered over the base of the Bulwark, landing in the snow and coming towards him.

Kotallo’s appraisement of her was scathing. Goodness knows he was humiliated enough without being saddled with a halfwit outlander.

“The guards say you’ve been scurrying around the wall like a rat,” he turned to her, his gaze as dark and sharp as a bloodied dagger, “what in the name of the Ten have you been up to?”

Despite his ire, her eyes were bright and her cheeks were flushed. She reminded him of the autumn hues of the forest they had walked through to get to the Bulwark.

“Tekotteh said he wouldn’t send his challengers as long as they were safe behind the Bulwark, right?”

He began to walk away from her. “Don’t remind me.”

“So…we take it down.”

He froze on the spot, wondering if he’d heard her right. He turned and looked at her.

“Did you hit your head on the way down?” He said, looking for the signs of insanity in her eyes and yet all he could see was excitement, like a child discovering something new.

“I’m serious!” She urged. “There’s something from the old world stuck in there,” of course she was referring to the shafts of metal jutting out from it but they were locked into the wall by immovable and unbreakable rock on all sides, “and it has a power cell.” Kotallo didn’t know what to say to this rant of madness. “I could blow it up if I just penetrate the first layer of rock and metal…”

He had to stop her. “Even if what you were saying was true,” which he knew it couldn’t be, “it would take a cannon to do that.”

Her flushed cheeks creased into a triumphant smile. “You’re right! And you said the rebels were stripping them off machines back in the valley!” Kotallo cursed his big mouth. He tried to think of something, anything to say to dissuade her but she was already off on her impossible quest. “Come on!”

“No!” He blurted and she stopped and turned back to him. He’d had enough. “I’m not getting dragged further into this madness.”

There, it was said. Now leave him be.

Her expression didn’t lose any of its hope but Kotallo marvelled at how sharp her eyes, that were as green as tender spring shoots poking up through the snow, could become.

“Hekarro ordered you to help me,” she said, her body still and her tone, hardened with resolve that Kotallo knew he had once had, even as he went to protest it, “are you going to defy him like that arrogant shit up there?” She raised her eyebrows at him in a challenge before she turned her back and walked off.

Whatever words had been in his mouth were silenced. Kotallo looked back to where she had glanced, high atop the Bulwark. He floundered, trying to find a way to refute what she had said yet he knew in his heart that she was right. However, he couldn’t let her get away with it without a small rebuttal.

“That was an unkind comparison.” He muttered, following her.

Thankfully she didn’t seem the kind to rub it in.

“The rebels might have made camp northeast of here.”

“And then what?” Kotallo demanded. “The two of us go up against all of them?”

“Pretty much…yeah.”

He snorted. “Well, you may lack sense…but you don’t lack courage.”

They continued on for a ways, Kotallo following her lead. If anything, he was just relieved to be out of sight of the Bulwark where people were probably gossiping about the terrible fate to have befallen the once great Kotallo. Goodness knows he never sought their worship and their pity was just as bitter to swallow.

“So, um…back there, with Tekotteh…it seemed like there’s bad blood between you two.”

Kotallo might have been impressed that she had picked up on it if Tekotteh had even been remotely subtle about it.

“There is. If we make it through this…plan of yours, perhaps I’ll tell you.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

She had a lovely form to behold as she ran. Kotallo noticed the way she moved, not ungainly or heavily. She seemed to have a fluidic grace about her, the folds of her tribal garb and the way it was designed swaying in rhythm with her hair. He had never seen its like. It started as blood red at her crown where it was twisted and braided, pouring over the back of her head and down the sides, ending in a copper hue like that of a golden sky just before the sun set fully beyond the horizon.

As mad as she might be, she was quite beautiful in a way that was not Tenakth in appearance yet her strength of resolve and bravery was in deed.

“We are getting close to where we saw the rebels before.”

The forest had thickened around them, the ground no longer blanketed with snow and the autumn hues had returned. There was a stream gushing before them, separating the rest of the valley from a clearing where an old world ruin stood. Kotallo flinched, recalling that he and Olenka…

When would he be free of the shame of his foolishness?

Or the way the memory of their unrestrained intimacy always made him recall the Stalker mine, the damage done to him, unseen and un-mocked.

He closed his eyes and pressed on as they waded through the stream, emerging on the other side, hunkered down in the long grass. The outlander had been right. The rebels had set up a camp where they could exert control over machines. The old ruin had been repurposed for their vile cause and they’d even built watchtowers around it.

And standing in the midst of the ruins, barely tethered and angry, was a Tremortusk.

“Well, it looks like the rebels just got a lot more firepower.” She muttered.

The rebels had painted the Tremortusk in their colours and saddled it with a riding post on its back, sharpened posts sticking out from it, turning the already deadly machine into a fearsome sight. They could have only done so while it was docile, possibly during its temporary control for as they watched, the rebel atop the Tremortusk flicked the reins and the Tremortusk’s colours turned orange and red and it resisted, reared and strained, its huge feet crushing the ground, sending the rebels scurrying out of its path. Its tusks and trunk ripped through part of the old ruins, tearing stone apart that had stood for hundreds of years. It was getting ready to charge. Then the colour of the machine changed to blue and it shook its head…and simply backed into the ruins and stood still, completely under their control.

Well…the outlander had been right about the camp and right about the machines…

Kotallo pointed at it. “You wanted your cannon, and that thing has them.” He looked at the stump of his arm and grasped it, the coldness of the air helping numb some of the pain. “It won’t be easy to take down, especially with this…”

Did she understand now, truly, how he had been reduced? An entire regiment of Tenakth would have trouble bringing down a Tremortusk without casualties, even fatalities. Now the two of them would attempt to do so with rebel Tenakth just waiting for the chance to finish what the Bristleback and Grudda at the embassy could not.

“I’ll handle the big guy,” she said and he looked at her and noted there wasn’t a shred of madness in her eyes, “you focus on the others.”

She truly believed they could win. Well, Kotallo didn’t think his life amounted to much anymore. If he slew some rebels before a Tremortusk crushed him as he followed an outlander into battle, then so be it.

“I’ll follow you in.”

Rather than charge as her brazenness suggested, the outlander tested the perimeter, touching the triangle at her ear frequently, her pale green eyes studying everything. Kotallo took note of where the watchtower was and counted the rebels. There weren’t many but he knew from terrible experience that a stray arrow making a lucky strike could bring about an unexpected end.

He drew Silent Kill out of its sheath and felt his fingers settle into the grooves.

“Okay, see those barrels?”

He peered at what she was pointing at. There were wrapped barrels that looked as though they were smoking.

“What about them?”

“They’re filled with chillwater. The rebels use it to freeze machines as they perform override maintenance,” some of her words he understood and others were completely foreign to him, “I think they’re leeching it from the salvaged Bellowback sacs they’ve dragged here.” She unsheathed an arrow. “I’m going to get that thing’s attention and draw it out into the open then hit it with all the chillwater barrels and even what remains in that sac.”

Kotallo went to reply when a rebel wandered close to their position. He looked around, saw the rebel was no in anyone’s line of sight and killed him from behind, pulling his body into the grass.

“Nicely done.”

“For what purpose?” Kotallo pointed at the chillwater. “The frost never lasts and it will be all the angrier when it shakes it off.”

“It’ll be more susceptible to damage when it happens. If you see it frozen, make sure you take advantage of it.”

He only had her word for it and only some of her words he understood. Still, Kotallo had always been good at following orders. He held her bravery in tangent with her apparent lack of common sense as she stood up and simply walked out in front of the Tremortusk. Its blue hue immediately changed to orange.

Two rebels caught sight of her and began to run in her direction. Kotallo, still hidden, slipped around a rock and caught one before they even got near her then flung Silent Kill, catching the second in the chest. The rebel crumpled to the ground before he could throw the spear in his hand. Kotallo retrieved his blade, sheathed it and picked up the spear as the Tremortusk’s colour changed to red. It stepped out of the ruins and bellowed at the outlander who unleashed arrows at it, enraging the machine.

Kotallo turned his attention to the watchtower, the sharpshooter lining up his bow. It was far, not as far as the Carja had been at Barren Light when he’d hurled spears at them as Jayko had retrieved Alaika’s body but then, he wasn’t quite the man he used to be.

Still, his aim hadn’t diminished.

He risked being seen as he stood yet chanced that all eyes would be on the outlander. He heaved the spear up, took aim and threw it, catching the sharpshooter in the chest, his body tumbling from his perch.

Abruptly there was an eruption behind him and Kotallo felt his back attempt to freeze. He spun around and saw that the Bellowback sac had exploded, igniting the chillwater barrels which had also burst and the Tremortusk was coated and stiff. The outlander was striking blows at the Tremortusk and though Kotallo had no way of knowing for sure, from its enraged bellows, once it had regained some movement after being frozen, it seemed that the outlander might actually know what she was doing.

Kotallo caught two more rebels who tried to take her down which only left the furious machine.

“Keep its attention!” The outlander ordered, sprinting away.

“On my own?” He demanded but his words were lost. The Tremortusk went to follow her but he yelled at it and threw another spear from a fallen rebel. It looked back at him and began to advance. Kotallo started to wonder if the outlander had realised the futility of her actions and left him to be crushed when the air filled with the sound of a cannon and the Tremortusk staggered and shuddered, its side slammed by machine fire.

Kotallo turned and to his amazement, the outlander had hoisted a cannon she’d taken from a weapon’s rack onto her hip and had her hand on the trigger, angry fire laying into the Tremortusk. He was so stunned he almost forgot to fight and even as he went to join her, the machine suddenly roared, slipped sideways and crashed into the ground. The only sounds left were the aches of metal as they went from hot to cold, creaking into silence.

The outlander dropped the cannon and ran up to the Tremortusk without fear.

Kotallo stared at it and her, astonished.

Not only had they killed the rebels and taken down a Tremortusk with just two warriors, one of them maimed…they were both still alive.

The outlander used her spear to sever the attachments of the Tremortusk’s cannon from its machine. She grabbed the weapon, far larger than a Ravager or even a Sawtooth cannon and yanked and pulled until it came free.

Kotallo stood nearby as she looked up, her face flushed with joy, her eyes sparkling.

She was beyond his comprehension.

Kotallo couldn’t tell if he should be impressed or afraid.

“Not looking forward to hauling this all the way to the Bulwark.” She admitted and went to pick it up.

Kotallo had no doubt that she would do it, carrying it for part of the way and dragging it the rest. There seemed to be no stopping the outlander…so he stopped trying to do so.

He fell to one knee in the grass before her, his head bowed.

“Here,” he said, feeling her gaze on him, “I may be maimed,” he offered and looked up at her, not shyly but with a slightly shamed expression, “but I’ve still got a strong back.”

He didn’t let her argue in case her words were mixed with pity or doubt. He simply put his arm on the cannon and pulled it towards himself, the metal striking his shoulder and hauberk. He let the weight shift until he could grasp it tightly and stood up. He glanced at her briefly, her eyes staring at him with an unreadable expression.

Did she admire him?

Did she pity him?

Did he want to know either way?

“After you…” He said, his head down and followed her heels. She led him to the stream, needing to find a shallower place to wade through before rejoining the path that would take them to the Bulwark.

“Hey…you fought well back there.”

“I did not think we would survive,” he admitted and wondered what she would think if she knew that he had almost hoped he had not, “but killing the rebels and the machines…it was good to take the fight to them for once.” When Regalla’s scouts returned to the camp, they would read a clear message in the corpses of both man and machine, that the Sky Clan was not full of toothless cowards. Perhaps it would give them reason to reconsider attempting to control a Tremortusk, or set up camp there, again.

The weight of the cannon was considerable and he still didn’t think it would have any effect on the Bulwark, no matter the outlander’s claims.

“Do you really think this thing will do the job?”

“We’ll know soon enough.”

So…she wasn’t sure.

Ah well…Kotallo couldn’t criticise her for it.

Ever since the embassy he had lived in a spiralling state of despair and hopeless helplessness. He had felt useless and believed there was nothing more he could do. But the fight at the camp had put some of the burn back in his veins. He mightn’t be the warrior he had been but he wasn’t done just yet.

They walked along the river, both of them lost in their thoughts before turning with the path to face the mountain, the Bulwark coming into view, a backdrop of angry, grey clouds swirling behind it. The glow of the fires within were warm and bright against the darkness.

Not far from the base was the remains of an old world machine. The outlander pointed to it.

“Mount it there. I’ll do the rest.”

Kotallo had no breath left to speak. He concentrated on carrying the cannon and heaving it from his back to his shoulder and then set it upon the old world machine.

“Here it is,” he said breathlessly, “but you don’t just need a cannon…you need a miracle.”

She smiled at him. “Coming right up.” She said with a voice that defied the reality of the situation. She went to the cannon and grasped it, dropping down low so that the muzzle was pointed at the metal that stuck out of the Bulwark on its left side. “Okay,” she said in a strained voice, “gotta blast away some rocks and expose the power cell.”

The cannon released a series of pulses, shattering the rock in a very small area around the metal.

“It’s working!” She cried.

Kotallo shook his head. “It’s not exploding.” He argued. She stepped back as though her work was done. Kotallo shook his head. “This isn’t going to work.” He muttered as Tekotteh appeared at the top of the Bulwark with a contingent of guards.

“Well isn’t this impressive? Two children playing siege.” He mocked. “I hope they haven’t hurt the Bulwark’s feelings.” He tilted his head. “Come now, stop embarrassing yourselves and leave this poor mountain alone.”

“This is your last chance, Tekotteh,” the outlander called out without a shred of intimidation or doubt and Kotallo stood with her as he had been ordered to do, “you can still answer Hekarro’s call.”

“This is your last chance! You have it backwards!” Tekotteh’s anger was sparked. “Leave this place now, savage.”

Whatever else she might be, Kotallo took affront to Tekotteh’s calling the outlander a savage.

Unusual, yes.

Unfathomable, absolutely.

Mad, very possibly…

…but not a savage.

And in testament to that, she didn’t allow him to rile her with his name calling.

“And take this cripple with you.”

Kotallo heard her grasp the machine and looked at her, seeing her mouth turn down. She met his eyes, the question of now or never in them. He nodded and she returned it before firing the cannon at the same place…

…but this time there was an explosion, stones erupting out of the place where the metal had been. Yet only a small cascade of rocks fell, tumbling down in an impressive but hardly revolutionary avalanche.

There was just enough time for Tekotteh, who had been surprised and slightly worried for a moment to regain his composure and flex his muscles…

…before the entire left hand side of the Bulwark simply collapsed, dragging the walkway down with it and scattering the giant boulders across the ground. Kotallo remained firm where he was standing, watching Tekotteh scramble madly to escape the disappearing structure he stood upon, his guards having to pull him out of harm’s way.

Kotallo wanted his jaw to fall open and to stare in shock as those behind the shattered Bulwark were doing but he stood with the outlander with the same expression, that it was exactly as they intended it to be.

“What have you done?” Tekotteh accused, his eyes taking in the damage.

“Can’t hide behind the wall anymore Tekotteh,” the outlander called out in the silence that followed, “now you have to join Hekarro.”

“Never,” his voice wavered then he put some more fire into it, “never! We…we will rebuild it! Immediately!”

“You are not safe!” Kotallo challenged, the time for him to speak had come. “The Bulwark couldn’t protect you from a single cannon,” not to mention an outrageous outlander, “let alone an army of machines. The only path to safety is to unite against Regalla with your Chief!” He stepped forward, still locked on Tekotteh’s face. “You decreed that no challengers would be sent while the clan remained safe behind the Bulwark. So send them now…unless your word means nothing.”

He didn’t shout or threaten. He simply stood in the authority that had been given to him by Chief Hekarro as a Marshal of the Tenakth…and challenged a coward on his word.

Tekotteh looked around, wrestling against his pride before he muttered.

“Send them…”

Though Kotallo had heard him and those close to Tekotteh had done so, it was not enough. Tekotteh would not get away with a passive declaration. The entire clan needed to hear his words.

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Send the challengers!” Tekotteh barked angrily.

Kotallo’s chest filled with pride. “I look forward to seeing the Sky Clan’s colours in the Arena!”

Tekotteh stormed from the Bulwark’s edge. Kotallo saw several of his guards salute him and he nodded to them, knowing that Tekotteh’s schemes were not held fast by everyone.

“Nicely done, Marshal.” He turned to the outlander. She had been the one who had made it possible. Kotallo was surprised that she was sincere in her praise. Her eyes turned to the ruined Bulwark. “What’s going to happen to this place?”

Though she had been the one to bring it down, there was an element of concern in her voice. She was not unaware of the enormity of what she had done, of how it would change the course of the Sky Clan’s existence.

“They’ll have to learn to live without their wall,” they both gazed at it, “but that’s better than living apart from the tribe, as pawns in Tekotteh’s foolish schemes.” He paused and turned to her. “If you want to check up on them, talk to Gerrah, Chaplain of the clan. If anyone needs help up there, she’ll know.”

“Yeah, maybe I will.” She smiled.

“I’ll take my leave then,” he said, “I need to report to Hekarro.” Goodness knows what he would tell him…Kotallo hoped he would find the words on the journey back to the Grove.

“I’ll see you at the Kulrut.” She promised.

“Good.” Kotallo bowed his head and turned to leave. He then paused and looked back at her. “We may need another miracle there as well.” He gave her the smallest smile as she nodded before he continued on his way.