Jayko didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t even bring it up again. He just walked by Kotallo’s side as the wounded young man attempted to collect the pieces of his heart and try to make something out of them again. Alaika and Arakko recognised that their squad member was grieving and rallied by his side, giving him a buffer between himself and the rest of the world.

Any attempt Kotallo made to pull himself back together was undone every time he heard her laugh, saw her in the Bulwark or sat at the same feasting table as she when Tekotteh asked him to join them. She was by the Sky Clan Commander’s side where she had probably always wanted to be. After all, he could give her what she craved, command of her own squad and with Inala confirmed as being with child, Olenka had a clear path to Tekotteh.

Seeing them together, even if their union wasn’t official, was like swallowing shards of metal. Kotallo wanted to die but suicide was seen as the worst possible form of death.

So when a Marshal, Regalla formerly of the Desert Clan no less, arrived with the call for volunteers for the latest offensive against the Carja, Kotallo broke from his squad without thinking and offered his service in hearing of Tekotteh.

“Kotallo…of what squad?” Regalla eyed him sharply even as Tekotteh’s jaw fell open.

“I…am volunteering…for myself.”

Regalla, her hair once black now bleached white and her skin marked with grief and vengeance, glowered at Kotallo in his poor armour.

“I want competent squads…not random individuals.”

“Apologises, Marshal,” Arakko blurted as he, Alaika and Jayko sprinted towards them, “I feared you would leave before knowing that the Orphan Squad offers its blade to Chief Hekarro.”

Regalla’s mouth firmed. “Very well…gather your kit, we leave within the hour.” She turned and glared at Tekotteh. “It seems at least some of your people are prepared to leave the safety of the Bulwark to fight.”

She strode from their side as Kotallo turned to his fellow squad. He opened his mouth to speak, to apologise…to say anything but Arakko put his hand on his shoulder.

“I was worried about volunteering without the Orphan Squad’s full support…your impulsive offer made me realise that I had it.”

“I should have spoken to you…” Kotallo blundered.

“You’re not that good with the talkie talkie,” Jayko laughed, slapping him on the back, “good thing you’re great at the fighting…although we’re going to let you be the one to explain this to Tekotteh. I’ll grab your kit.”

Kotallo nodded and squared his shoulders as Tekotteh walked up to him. “What are you thinking, Kotallo?” He demanded. “Volunteering for a dangerous Carja offensive?”

“Someone has to represent the Sky Clan in the fight against the Carja.” Kotallo insisted.

“You’re hardly qualified. You were too young to fight Tenakth and you’ve never fought the Carja.”

“Then at least the first person I kill will be a true enemy of the Tenakth.” Kotallo saw concern in Tekotteh’s eyes. “I am not a child anymore, Tekotteh…I can’t stay here for the rest of my life. That’s what I saw at the top of the March of the Ten, a whole world to defend.”

“Sky Clan territory and Sky Clan brethren.” Tekotteh insisted.

“And I will do so…on the front lines.” Kotallo’s shoulders were firm even though his heart was sinking as Olenka appeared in his line of sight behind Tekotteh. “I…need to do this.”

Tekotteh looked set to continue arguing but he clamped his lips shut then sighed.

“Ah the freedom of being a single soldier of a squad that dreams of glory and seeks new horizons…I envy you, Kotallo.” Kotallo huffed. “Truly. If not for the burden of command, I would be by your side at the front lines.” Tekotteh nodded. “Kill a few Carja in my name, won’t you?”

“Yes sir.” Kotallo saluted, turned, saw Olenka’s icy glare, put his back to the pain of the past and joined his squad at the lift. Jayko handed him his kit in a roll which he slung onto his back. Regalla surveyed their squad with scathing scepticism.

“I asked for warriors and what did I get? Children with sticks for blades and imaginary armour who know nothing about war…but I have soldiers from the Sky Clan. That will allow the offensive to push ahead.” She led them onto the lift. “Come and should you fall behind, I’ll kill you myself.”

Kotallo had left the Bulwark many times so he wasn’t going to spare a look for his home but Jayko nudged him.

“Look.” He nodded. “Gerrah.”

Kotallo glanced back at the wall and saw his Chaplain and mother figure watching him go. He raised his hand and farewelled her. She nodded and smiled.

He would probably never see her again.

Following Regalla was like trying to keep up with a Grazer on the run. She was fast and very focussed. They made Stone Crest by early afternoon however she insisted that they push on and make camp between the edge of Sky Clan territory and the start of Memorial Grove’s bounds.

At the Sheerside Climb, the Southern most outpost of the Sky Clan’s territory, Kotallo paused at the cusp of the path that would take them to the Grove and looked at his feet.

“Shard for your thoughts?” Jayko asked.

“If I take another step…it will be the furthest I have ever been from the Bulwark…beyond the domain of the Sky Clan.” Kotallo breathed deeply and put his foot deliberately over the invisible line. He felt his breath shudder and looked at Jayko.

“They say the first step is the hardest.”

“Perhaps,” Kotallo shrugged, “but I hope with every step, the burden of foolish thoughts and actions will grow lighter. I would hate to stumble with the weight of them on my shoulders.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Jayko chuckled, “I told you, I won’t let you fall.”

Regalla marched them relentlessly to a campsite by the side of a lake where she announced that they would spend the night.

“Rest now for I leave the moment dawn breaks.” She warned.

Orphan Squad slumped onto the ground. Alaika looked behind them.

“Uh, Marshal Regalla…aren’t we a little exposed out here?”

Regalla huffed. “You’ve grown used to your wall, thinking it can protect you. Out here,” she gestured to the wide open world where, astonishingly, there was no snow blanketing the ground, “the feeling of an ally’s back pressed against yours is the best protection you can have.”

With her warning ringing in their heads, Orphan Squad decided to for three of them to sleep back to back against the fourth’s bed roll for their heads to rest on while the one not sleeping kept a lookout. Regalla did not volunteer to keep watch during the night but the next day as she marched them to the Grove, each of them remarked how, during their turn to be lookout, Regalla had been awake and her keen eyes, bright with alertness.

“I wonder if she slept at all.” Jayko whispered.

“Ask her if you dare.” Arakko chuckled then breathed out. “The air here…it’s so different to the air in the mountains.”

“It’s thicker.” Jayko chortled.

“Thicker?” Kotallo’s mood had been sombre but even he couldn’t keep from commenting on Jayko’s strange observation.

“Can’t you taste it? It’s like you could bite chunks out of the air.”

Kotallo thought about this. Jayko was right. The air did seem denser so much lower down. Not even in the valleys of the Sky Clan’s domain was the air ever so rich…and warm. While Regalla muttered that she longed for the heat of her former home, Orphan Squad were struggling with the change in temperature.

“I have to admit,” Alaika said brightly, “it is nice not to be so cold all the time.”

Arakko rolled his eyes as the other two men ogled Alaika’s fine body as she removed her heavier outer layer and revealed her midriff and some very nice shoulders.

“I had my doubts about your volunteering us at first but now…” Jayko whistled and Alaika snorted at him and strode ahead.

Kotallo didn’t say anything, turning his gaze aside. Though momentarily distracted by Alaika’s curves, they only reminded him of Olenka’s soft skin and how she felt beneath his fingers…and the pain of her cold hearted dismissal of him was renewed.

He turned his attention instead to the lake, marvelling that it was not frozen. Geese swam on top and fish darted around beneath the surface.

“Regalla,” he called, “other than Snapmaws and Widemaws, do machines avoid the water?”

“What is that Chaplain teaching you behind your wall?” Regalla’s tone was scathing and Kotallo felt the burn on his cheeks as though she’d slapped him.

“We have no lakes and only streams and rivers that freeze over in the height of winter.” Arakko explained. “We’ve not seen still water like this,” he gestured to the lake, “before.”

Regalla paused and turned back to them. “Then your question is not as foolish as I thought…and I admit, having come from the Desert Clan, great bodies of water such as this also amazed me. Who knew that the Sky and Desert Clans could have something in common?” She shook her head and continued to walk. “While some machines are not meant for the water, unless they suffer a malfunction within it, most can survive in it. Others, like Burrowers, thrive. They are easy prey on land but in the water, you have no defence apart from smoke bombs. Mind this well.”

The Orphan Squad listened to everything she had to say. She had survived the Kulrut and she was a fearsome, knowledgeable warrior.

But when the landscape began to change, trees springing up, larger and darker than anything the youths had seen before and the air thickened until all of them agreed it was like swallowing it rather than breathing, their attention was distracted. They skirted a herd of Widemaws around a metal tower that hummed with a strange sort of energy then followed a river that was flowing so fast the water clearly had somewhere else to be. At the apex of a hill, the water tumbled over its lip, crashing into several waterfalls until turning into an even wider river with a stronger current.

“We will reach the Grove before midday.” Regalla announced, pointing towards the dark green heads of trees.

“Uh…it’s in there?” Arakko hesitated.

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“The density of the trees hides it but trust me, it is there. Come.”

Regalla’s sense of timing was accurate. As she led the Orphan Squad to the Grove, their stomachs began to rumble.

But their appetite was lost in awe of the legendary Grove. They approached it from the North, passing by what Regalla explained was the Maw of the Arena, the base for all soldiers belonging to the Chief’s Guard. It was built alongside the Grove which was an ancient ruin of the Old Ones whose stories were captured in the visions that had shaped and brought focus to the Tenakth Tribe.

Several rows of sharpened spike clusters defended the Grove from an all out assault, each of them bearing paint of all three clans, each one attempting to cover the predecessor who had claimed ownership of the Grove. Now, all three tribes were welcome to come and view the visions and not just the one that controlled it.

Regalla took them up the main path and through the Grove.

Pedestals that held crackling visions tempted Orphan Squad’s gaze but they dared not antagonise Regalla’s wrath and so, followed behind her dutifully as she led them to the throne room.

There Chief Hekkaro sat upon his throne…and none of the rumours about him had been exaggerated. He was a giant of a man with hair as straight and black as machine fluid and a voice so deep Kotallo felt it cause his spine to tremble.

Standing beside the Chief, having been in deep conversation with him, was a pale skinned man with the colours of a Marshal and yet the manner of his inking was strangely unfamiliar, circles and curves…not the straightness or sharpness normally seen of Tenakth marks.

“Regalla, you have returned from the Sky Clan…with volunteers,” the Marshal formerly of the Lowland Clan remarked, “or did you drag them kicking and screaming from the Bulwark?”

“Orphan Squad volunteers, ready for duty sir!” Arakko claimed boldly and they stood at attention. Hekarro studied them with dark eyes.

The Marshal snorted. “Well…what they lack in age they make up for in eagerness…is that one even old enough to shave?”

Jayko rubbed his chin and shrugged. “I like a smooth face.” He said smartly before Regalla shot him a glare and he clamped his mouth shut.

“I brought who would volunteer…but I would have done as you said in order to have the Sky Clan represented at this new offensive.” Regalla said sternly.

“I don’t doubt it.” Hekarro spoke, deep and stern. “Though the offerings of the Sky Clan are less than…excessive…they will demonstrate to the Carja that we are united as a tribe. Marshals, attend me as we speak on our strategy.”

Regalla turned to Orphan Squad. “Get to the Maw and find something to eat. Be prepared to move out at a moment’s notice.”

With that they were dismissed and hastened out of the throne room.

“I’m glad Hekarro lives up to his reputation.” Alaika whispered when they were out of earshot. “The leader of the Tenakth would be a poor sight if he was weedy and pathetic.”

“What’s wrong with weedy and pathetic?” Jayko demanded. “Jeez, first I’m not old enough to shave and now I’m weedy and pathetic.”

“Come on, let’s get to the Maw.” Arakko paused. “Actually…why don’t we view the visions? I’d like to hear them for myself.”

“Tekotteh said they’re not as clear as they once were.” Kotallo sighed. “He is concerned that it is because the Tenakth are weakened that the visions are faltering…”

“I’d like to hear it from the Lowland Chaplain.” Jayko insisted. “I think I saw her as we came in. She’ll be the one to ask.”

They sought her out, Dekka was her name and she welcomed their interest. “I will always extol the stories of the Ten to anyone eager to listen.” She said and took them on a tour of the visions. Of course, the one that interested them the most was the one that the Sky Clan had based its philosophy on. “Climbing icy mountains to repel the enemy…such is your legacy.”

“Can I ask, did the Ten really fly?” Jayko spoke up. “I…I can’t imagine how they did it.”

“In great machines they flew and brought destruction upon their enemies.” Dekka confirmed.

“Imagine that,” Jayko looked at Kotallo, “to be able to fly…”

“It’s the same as falling…until you reach the bottom.” Arakko grumbled, becoming unpleasant when he was hungry. “I’m ready to eat an entire boar.”

“An army marches on its stomach. Go to the Maw.” Dekka laughed and sent them on their way.

The cook welcomed their presence and offered them seared meat on sticks. They sat with their legs hanging over the edge of a walkway and observed their surroundings.

“Desert Clan, Lowland Clan…who would have thought that they could ever be in the same place?”

“Hekarro’s dream of peace might have been mocked in the beginning…but it’s apparent now that he knew the best way forward.”

“Anyone else notice there aren’t any of the Sky Clan here?”

Kotallo looked around at Jayko’s words. Apart from their paltry squad, the only colours represented were of the other two clans.

“We’ll just have to make sure we do our best to represent the Sky Clan well.” Arakko declared, happy now that his belly was full.

“I am very pleased to hear that.”

They turned and looked up at the speaker.

“Fareak!” They cried and stood up before pausing. “Apologies, Marshal, for our lack of…”

“Shut up and let me look at you.” Fareak chuckled and stepped back. He had been the only warrior sent to the Kulrut, not long after Tekotteh had become Commander of the Sky Clan. Since then, he had not returned to the Bulwark or even stepped foot in the Sheerside Mountains. “Arakko and Alaika…I’m glad to see it’s no longer difficult to tell you apart.” Alaika preened and Arakko puffed his chest out. Fareak had been the leader of Sharp Teeth Squad before his appointment as Marshal and his deeds even as a soldier of the Sky Clan were legendary, even on par with Tekotteh. If Tekotteh had not challenged Atikka’s command, it was rumoured that Fareak would have. “Jayko…still little.”

“Aw…” Jayko muttered. “At least I don’t have to crumple myself up in order to stay hidden in grass like Kotallo here.”

“No…this can’t be little ‘Tallo.” Fareak studied Kotallo and shook his head. “My word…of all the soldiers of the Sky Clan, I never thought you’d leave the Bulwark, let alone come here.”

“Do you think so little of me, Marshal?” Kotallo asked quietly.

“Do not mind my assumptions, Kotallo…I am more than pleased to be wrong. It’s a rare occurrence after all.” Fareak winked then eyed them all. “I have to say, Tekotteh could have done better by giving you all half decent armour before sending you out.”

“Regalla was in a hurry.”

“Ah yes, well…she would be.” Fareak sighed then paused. “Arakko, yours is actually quite well made and Alaika…I think you chose style over substance.”

“I work with my strengths,” she explained, “and make sure I fight well enough not to require armour all over my body.”

“Clever although slightly arrogant…you’ll do well.” Fareak chuckled then shook his head at Jayko and Kotallo. “As for you two…come. You need something more than the threadbare clothing and poorly fitted armour you are currently wearing.”

He took them to the stitcher and, after a few words, were shown an array of armour.

“Replace this,” Fareak tapped Kotallo’s chest plate, “Jayko, you need better cuffs…and you both need footwear.”

“Sir,” Jayko sighed, “we cannot pay for this.”

“There is no cost for this armour.”

Kotallo picked through the armour, holding up a chest plate against himself and eyeing the fit. Though not perfect, it was a great deal better than what he was currently wearing. He noticed scratches on it…and a little dried blood.

“Marshal,” he turned to the former Sky Clan warrior, “this armour…it used to belong to a Tenakth who fell in battle, didn’t it?”

Fareak nodded. “Most was given to their families but in some cases, no family existed. That armour is what you see before you.”

Kotallo swallowed and pulled his basic chest plate off, wrestling with the clasps on the new one before finally getting it on. Fareak pulled the straps tight and Kotallo’s posture straightened. With new boots that looked like they belonged to a Lowland Clan soldier, Kotallo’s appearance was greatly improved…if a little contradictory.

“Desert Clan plating, Lowland boots and Sky Clan markings…” Arakko snorted.

“Get yourselves to the inker and have him fix the ink on your armour.” Fareak ordered. “When we march, I want the other clans to know who you are and for the Carja to know who you represent.”

“Yes sir.”

Kotallo couldn’t help but walk taller in armour that fitted better and looked much more like he was an accomplished warrior. He even liked how the armour already had scratches on it. He would not have to fear marring its pristine appearance. He just hoped he was worthy of wearing it after its previous owner had fallen.

Once their armour was properly marked as Sky Clan, Fareak marched them to the weapons officer and looked over their blades. They set about sharpening the tips of their spears and the edges of their blades. Kotallo eyed the edge of his spear critically.

“You keep sharpening it, there’ll be nothing left.” Fareak remarked.

“Yes sir.” The armourer handed Fareak a curved blade that he had sharpened for the Marshal. “That blade…I’ve never seen its like.”

“That’s because it’s a Carja blade.” Fareak held it out to Kotallo who took it reverently, feeling the solid grip of the hilt and the nimbleness of the blade. “I pried it from the hand of a dead lookout after I snapped his neck and then used it to kill the rest of the raiding party. The Lancehorns on the other side of the path didn’t hear anything for my assault was without noise. After that, I named it Silent Kill and have kept it on me ever since.” Fareak accepted it back and slid it into his belt. “Perhaps you will be so fortunate to brandish a Carja weapon soon.”

“I doubt that.”

Fareak frowned. “Kotallo…have you ever killed anyone before?” Kotallo shook his head.

“None of us have.” Jayko admitted.

Fareak sighed and folded his arms. “Wet behind the ears…well…you’re going to be dropped in the deep end when it comes to battle. Regalla has planned this offensive well. The Carja always sent out a scouting party first to spy any Tenakth lying in wait before sending their main war party of raiders through the gates of Barren Light. Only her best, eagle eyed scout was permitted to watch for the Carja. When he returns with news that the war party will be passing through, we will get there first and lie in wait...and visit their atrocities tenfold."

The young squad listened and nodded. Kotallo frowned.

"The Carja…are they as bad as what all the reports say?”

Fareak nodded and they all paled. “I’d be cruel to tell you otherwise. When we march, stay close to me and heed my words. As much as Regalla screams for blood, I want to make sure yours stays on the inside of you.”

Storms were raging and the soldiers itched and fidgeted, waiting for the sign to march. Orphan Squad spent a week at the Grove. Fareak made sure they didn’t become complacent, testing their armour and skills. As they battled in the Arena, all of Orphan Squad against the Marshal with padded weapons, Kotallo felt eyes on the back of his head. He was distracted and looked up to see Hekarro walking around the upper deck, the Marshal marked with strange inking keeping in step with him.

A moment later, Kotallo was on his back and he groaned.

“And you’re dead.”

“We’re all dead.” Arakko muttered. “Damn it…”

“How the hell are we going to hold our own against the Carja?” Jayko demanded.

“The element of surprise is a formidable advantage.” Alaika said calmly. “Besides, none of us would forgive ourselves if we gave Marshal Fareak a scar…we won’t have such reserve when fighting the Carja.”

“Well said, Alaika. I see why you’re second in command,” Fareak chuckled, “and as for giving me a scar…you’re more than welcome to try and I won’t hold it against you should you succeed.”

Unfortunately for the young squad, none of them could land a convincing blow. Fareak punished them by making them walk upstream, against the current of the river. Kotallo slipped and slid and sometimes ended up face first in the water but he was better off than light and slight Jayko.

“Jayko,” Kotallo finally said after Jayko coughed up a lungful of water, “get behind me. I’ll break the water’s flow and you’ll be able to stay upright or we’ll be here until dusk tomorrow.”

Jayko did so and immediately began to sing Kotallo’s praises.

“That’s genius! This is so much easier! Arakko! Alaika…get over here!”

Instead of walking individually, they pressed on in single file together, swapping the leader every five minutes so that they could rest at the back of the pack. In doing so even Jayko could take the lead and make good progress while the others supported from behind and then took their turn breaking the current of the water.

“There’s Fareak! We’re almost there!” Alaika announced as they cut through the water and, at Fareak’s nod, collapsed on the bank.

“Bravo,” a voice with an odd lilt remarked, “that was quite an ingenious solution.”

Kotallo twisted on the bank of the river and looked at the speaker. It was the Marshal with the strange inking. He had been speaking with Fareak.

“Sky Clan, I take it?”

“They are.”

“Young.”

“They are that too…”

“Still…I’ve seen you march over a dozen squads up that river…and not one of them figured out the lesson.” The man nodded at them. “I’m impressed. Fareak.”

“Fashav.” Fareak turned to his young squad. “That lesson was twofold. One, working together is the core of every good squad and two, being smelly is a real turn off.”

“Thank you!” Alaika declared and the three young men groaned.

“Fareak,” Jayko dragged himself to his feet, “who was that other Marshal? I couldn’t place him.”

“That was Marshal Fashav.”

“Of what tribe?”

Fareak just gazed at them. Arakko’s eyes narrowed.

“He’s that Carja prince or something that was captured at Cinnabar Sands, isn’t he?”

“Yes he is.”

Suddenly the compliment he paid them was a bitter tonic to swallow.

“Carja…” Arakko spat to the side.

“I wouldn’t do that in Fashav’s presence.”

“Why not?” Alaika demanded.

“Because the last three Tenakth who did so, ended up with their faces ground into their own spit.” Fareak ordered them to the cook for their rations then met with them around the campfire that seemed to be dedicated to Sky Clan alone. All the other camp fires were abundant with soldiers, ale and stories. Their little group was quieter but they could hear Fareak speak so much more clearly. “Fashav was something called a ‘nobleman’. He told me that he was the nephew of the Sun-King, Jiran, who ordered the raids of our tribes.”

They all stared at Fareak in horror.

“He is related to the man who has condoned the slaughter of so many?” Fareak nodded. “How Hekarro could allow him to become a Marshal?”

“Because when he was brought to the Grove and thrown at the feet of Hekarro, he demanded the trial of the Kulrut. It seems he had been paying attention to the soldiers as he was marched and dragged from Cinnabar Sands to the Grove.”

“He wanted to become a Marshal?”

Fareak shrugged. “If you earn his respect, you may ask him of his true intentions yourself.”

“Why should any of us earn his respect?” Alaika demanded.

“Because…he is a Marshal and even amidst prejudice, death threats, disgrace and dishonour, Fashav has only acted with excellent character in accordance with Hekarro’s will.” The notion was astonishing to say the least. “He will not be joining us at Cinnabar Sands, staying behind instead to continue to act as Hekarro’s Marshal to the settlements of the tribes. However, I have seen him cut down his own countrymen who had trapped a Tenakth family inside their home and set it on fire, before charging into the blaze and pulling everyone to safety, enduring terrible burns to save their lives.” Fareak stood up. “Think on that before you judge him…for is one man truly accountable for the crimes of all his ilk?”

“What about the Sun-King?” Kotallo asked.

“We can only hope that his own kind turn on him…for he is beyond our reach.”