What makes a monster? For once, both scholarship and common sense are entirely in agreement. An excess of Godsblood, and a deficiency of governing will – the better judgement that elevates humanity above the meaningless flailing of beasts. Proof of mankind’s higher faculties can be found no further than in Godkin themselves. Animals, when becoming Blooded, are far more susceptible to the corresponding urges than humans. Wolves can become fearful; bulls docile and easily tamed; rabbits ravening in their rage.
Supposedly, humans took more to reach that point because of a ‘governing will’. I had mentioned that to Kit, a few days back. She’d called me delusional.
I sat in the morning sun staring at Commander Andros – tied to a speartree for a night and the better part of a day – and thought about that point. I wondered what conquering one’s instinct looked like. I’d only ever supplanted one desire with another.
It was unsurprising to find I had no answers.
The Commander shifted under my gaze, then released a low groan. His back had been burnt to a raw red by the Heltian weapon, leaving its flesh bubbling as its heat slowly seeped into the surrounding area. From experience, I understood that the pain was excruciating. But unlike myself, his veins were absent of Dure’s essence. There was nothing in him that could curb the agony. The cold air around us would offer a little relief, yet even that was a small consolation. He had choice but to bear the pain – it was carved into his body, after all. Yet far worse was the knowledge that it would persist for weeks upon weeks, threatening to tip into months.
I’d made sure to tell him as much, when replacing his bandages. He was in agony, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. But he knew I could.
Between my fingers I rolled a vial of pitch-black liquid. Though Andros tried to keep his eyes from following it, he could not. I’d given him a heavily-diluted drop the night before. The oblivion it brought was exquisite.
Birds sung quietly in the middle of the cleared field. A constant breeze carried the smell of pyres and burning bodies. I cracked my neck and shifted atop the fallen branch I sat upon.
“I’m here to ask you some questions,” I told the Commander.
He scowled defiantly. “I won’t say- “
“Your man Seoras has already answered most of them,” I continued. “I’m just here to double-check.”
He blinked. Stripped of everything but a layer of blankets and a pair of pants, Andros seemed even more pathetic than usual. “Seoras told you? Where is he?”
“Dead,” I assured myself. “We couldn’t hold him for long. You don’t have to worry about us killing you, though.”
He eyed me, licking sweat from a thin layer of stubble. “Why?”
“You’re too valuable as a hostage,” I answered simply. “We can’t afford to lose you.”
The Commander kept himself perfectly still. “You’re asking me to commit treason.”
I furrowed my brows. “Treason?” I asked, striving for a smooth, reasonable tone. “Seoras has already spilled his guts to us. Whatever you do is nothing compared to that. It’s certainly not ideal for Baylar, but who’s going to tell them? Not us; if we’re caught, we’ll be dead before we answer questions. If it is a betrayal, it’s one of the most insubstantial kind.”
The captive barked a strained laugh, then winced at it contorted his blistered back. “Forgive me, but I don’t believe you.”
I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “Torture’s not off the table. But before the boss sends in the knives and the Dolphinbloods, she’s letting me try the easy way.”
“How do I know you’re not one?”
“A Dolphinblood?” I squinted at him. “Brave of you to make demands. But here: I’ll play along.”
With a flourish, I slid my belt-knife from its sheath. “I’m a Lizardblood,” I said in a conversational tone, holding the blade in the palm of my hand. “A weak one, being honest. But watch: by the end of our conversation, this cut will be healed.”
The dagger flashed, and a small nick appeared on the tip of my finger, blood beading at its tip.
“I’m not talking to you until it’s proved,” Andros stated, mouth in a firm line.
“You could do that. But you should know that I’ve only been given a short time to persuade you. After that…” I shrugged.
He shifted slightly, supressing a groan.
“There’s a friend of mine who very much wants to take over this interrogation. You’ve killed someone she knows. She’s the one who cracked Seoras,” I lied, “and if a man like that surrendered his pride, then eventually you will too. I don’t want to let her. I understand you were just following orders.”
I wasn’t sure if I was being honest. I – no, Seoras – had loathed him. Andros was respectable only for his skills as a woodsman. In all other ways he was wretchedly incompetent – entirely unsuited to becoming a leader of men. A fool; a coward; a hypocrite – all were disgustingly accurate. The pieces I’d stolen became more fragmented the further back they went – fading into incomprehensible pieces before the start of the battle – but impressions remained.
They were what I needed to confirm.
“How quickly you answer our questions isn’t up to me. It’s not even up to you; not under the blade and pliers.” I leaned forward. “It’s just a matter of whether your answers come with more pain.” The vial rolled between my knuckles. “Or less.”
----------------------------------------
Andros’ head lolled against the speartree, insensible to the world. He’d answered my questions. I’d known he would – I’d had his measure the moment I’d first set eyes upon him. Something to fear and something to entice. All a man like that needed was a good excuse to surrender.
I hated him with such incredible fervour, as if he were the sky and I were the waves of some massive body of water raging against the blue of the world above…
Before I could lose myself, the bite of my fingernails against my arm brought me back. I steadied my breathing and untied him from the pale ivory tree he was tied against, tucking the rope in my pack and carefully slinging him over my shoulder.
It took several moments to reorient myself in the clearing. We were several minutes’ walk from the camp itself, with only Tully, Rita, Maddie, and myself knowing the location. Tully had determined the likelihood of Andros being murdered while in captivity reasonably high.
I had too. But no one had attempted to follow me. They were too busy building pyres.
Three trails of smoke trickled skywards: one for the abandoned farmstead; one for the derelict village; a smaller one for our own campsite, and our own dead. The former two were diversions created as concessions to Tully, who wanted to leave the corpses where they lay. To everyone else, that wasn’t an option. Nor was burying them. In the Heartlands, no one covered those they loved with earth. When the Aching came about, it would steal the bodies from their graves, sucking them deep underground as payment for its regrowth.
So we’d burned the battlefields and hauled a cart, a wagon, and a carriage full of everything we needed off the trail into a clearing far from everything else. Those who remained waited there when I arrived, still in their respective groups. The pyre – thick logs stacked atop one another – roared and spat and reached for the skies, slowly consuming the dead. The silhouettes of the grieving watched it, ash falling through their fingers.
Tully; Maddie; a bandaged Rita and Holt: all watching the pyre from near Aron’s spearwood wagon.
Aron and Daisy tended to a feverish Willow around the edge of the camp, her shoulder-wound and numerous bruises casting her fate in a murky light.
What remained of the Smiths and Growers were the closest to the flames: Old Snapper, Atifi, Wil and his adolescent kid. They had lost the most.
Yet it was young Taja who had lost everything. His eyes stared glassily at the charring corpse of his brother and sister.
Ronnie, Davian, Yowler, Gast, Kit, Tippi, Crumpet, and Jana sat around the outer edges of the clearing. I could see Kit’s bandaged hands twitching over her lute, yet she refrained from bringing music into the clearing.
Nineteen remained. Or eighteen, if I didn’t include myself. Objectively, I understood that was a good number – borderline miraculous considering the circumstances. I tried not to look at the pyre.
As a Face, I would’ve usually been asked to preside over a funeral. But my mask had broken. And when the caravaners had left the stone building at the top of the hill, their feet had stepped around dozens of dead soldiers. Even to the man who had made them, it all seemed… inhuman. No one treated Kit any differently. She’d never pretended to be a safe person.
Most didn’t extend me anything more than a considering glance. Tully gave more – ever since I’d helped plan the defence, she’d begun asking me my opinion regarding strategic matters. But Ronnie and Davian still hadn’t met my eyes. Maybe they didn’t know who lived behind them. I hadn’t sought theirs, either.
I’d done this before. Endless battlefields; endless corpses. Yesterday felt very far away.
“Stop moping, big man.” Rita stood beside me, a grin fixed on her face despite the minor wounds she bore. Upon returning and sighting her soldier’s bodies, a momentary grimness had entered her face. The expression was almost entirely gone, present only in the wary eyes perched above her smile. “You’re gonna drop our guest like that.”
“I’m not- “
“Y’are. Won’t begrudge you it, Vin, but we got work to do.” She paused. “Since you’re bringing him back, I reckon he’s given us what we need, eh?”
I nodded.
“Ha! Holt’ll be pissed he won’t get t’work his Dolphin-magic.” The short guard jerked her head. “C’mon, then.”
We walked towards the Heltians, still loitering outside the spearwood wagon. Tully saw me coming and hauled herself into its confines with an extended grunt, her newly-equipped steel armour made climbing difficult. For whatever reason, Aron’s wagon was meticulously warded with runes that ensured no sounds escaped, and its inner curtains could cover any gaps in its bonnet. Something seemed eerie about that, but I hadn’t yet cleared enough mental fog to consider it.
For a one-on-one meeting, Heltia’s carriage would be more private, however unlike the scarred chunk of wood, the wagon could fit three or four people within it.
Following Tully came Maddie. The chitin armour she’d taken to wearing was far less of an obstruction than her guard’s – it must have been designed to be lightweight and mobile – but her height posed much greater difficulty. After a few inelegant attempts to clamber over its lip she begrudgingly accepted the hand of her… guard? Carer? Knight? Even after all that had been revealed, it still didn’t seem absurd that the two were mother and daughter.
I dumped Andros at Holt’s feet and knit my hands together, giving Rita a foothold to haul her injured body inside. She offered a hand to me but I waved it away, instead leaping almost half my height upwards and landing inside, landing steadily on both feet.
The wagon’s bed sunk under my weight, its axels squeaking. “What’ve they been feeding you?” Rita quipped.
Awkwardly, a higher voice responded. “…Rocks, maybe?” I turned to look at Maddie, cross-legged around a small table, and she wilted.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
I looked at her green eyes, cringing away from my own, and tried to conjure a joke out of a mood unsuited to the task. “Alright, your… Headliness?”
Rita winced.
I raised my hands. “I tried.” Stooping against the wagon’s confines, I lowered myself down to the table. A vague map of the Heartlands sat atop it. “What’s your name, anyway?”
The young woman startled, orange hair bobbing. “Maleen- ”
“Head Maleen,” interrupted Tully, beady eyes flashing.
“Maleen, Tully. Or Maddie.”
“Head, that’s beneath your- “
Maddie-Maleen growled in frustration. “Beneath my station? I rule over precisely three people: you, Rita, and Holt. Everyone else is dead.”
“You’re no longer simply you, Head Maleen,” snapped the scarred woman. “You represent the dignity of a House. For all intents and purposes, you are Heltia.”
Both Rita and I kept our eyes trailing around the innards of the wagon, studiously pointed away from the argument.
“What dignity do I have?” the young Head leaned over the table. “Tell me, Captain. The dignity to allow ten people – half of them civilians – to die for me? Me? Of all of Heltia – me?”
Tully leaned backwards, her expression level. “You are all of Heltia.”
“But why- “
Rita cleared her throat. “Now might not be the time for this. Eh, Miss Ma?”
“Hm?” I grunted, then paused. “Oh, you meant Maddie.” Tully shot me a sharp look. “Maleen.” The orange-haired Head glared at me. “Uh, Maddie.”
“Vin,” began the scarred woman, “that’s- “
“Captain Graves,” commanded the young woman, “he will call me whatever he wants to.”
Tully nodded slowly, a small smile on her face.
“Sorry, Captain Graves?”
The tilt of the grey-haired woman’s lips reversed.
Rita snorted. “It’s her moniker.”
“Do I call her- “
“Captain Tully, Vin,” the woman in question stated firmly.
“You’re a…”
“I coordinate Head Maleen’s guards. And advise her.”
“And you are Blooded?”
She paused. “Yes. A Spiderblood. What gave it away?”
“Your eyes.”
Her beady eyes regarded me, entirely still. “I see.”
I clicked my tongue in thought. After a moment, I turned to Rita.
The short guard raised her hands. “Just Rita.”
My eyes slid shut, while simultaneously my fingers found my temples and began rubbing small circles around them.
“And you?” Maddie’s gentle voice prodded at me.
I opened my eyes. The three Heltian women stared at me. “What?”
“What’s your name?”
“Vin,” I answered, managing a lopsided smile. “You know it.”
“And ‘Vin’,” Tully carefully took the reins of conversation, “is the name of the man who killed over thirty Baylarian regulars, almost single-handedly?”
My eyes flickered across their faces: each wearing different expressions of deliberate disinterest. “Yeah.”
“It takes a lot of talent and training to acquire such skill.”
I shrugged noncommittally. “I’m older than I look.” That was both simultaneously true and false. I had entire lifetimes of experience, stolen from the twitching fingers of the dying, yet something about the cast of my face made my body seem older than its eighteen years.
“How old- “
“I’m not a danger to you or your Head,” I interrupted, “so long as you keep your end of the bargain. If I knew anything relevant – about any of this – I would have told you.” My fingers drummed against the table as I cast my gaze around the other seated. “Do you want to know what Andros told me or not?”
Maddie swallowed. “You didn’t torture him- “
“I didn’t bloody torture him,” I snapped. “But considering your Captain was the one pushing for knives, you wouldn’t have the right even if- “
“Big man.” Rita’s low tone smothered my own. “Careful with the boss, uh?”
A breath of air fled from my mouth. “Right. Okay. Are we ready to discuss some kind of plan?”
After several long moments, the three others slowly nodded.
----------------------------------------
Four pieces of information had been coaxed from Andros, carefully prompted by a strategic deployment of the few facts I’d stolen from Seoras.
The first and most important to the Heltians was that the city they took their name had been occupied. That hadn’t surprised anyone present; what did shock them was that the Ox had been vital in clearing the way. As a Face, I understood that Enn was ofttimes enraged specifically to take its attention away from a city and towards a sacrifice, but there was a tacit agreement between every single human in existence not to use it as a weapon. Gods could not be tamed, saddled, or brought under the yoke.
Bhan had told me that the last time humanity had attempted to weaponize a god was over a century ago, where the Ox had been led to attack the Spider. While Enn obliterated a trail of sacrificial pawns to Siik’s home, the other god had simply retreated further into its mountain. It had been made a common tale for Divinities, usually spun out with a single, holy moment wherein both gods sighted one another, gazing at one of the only creatures in existence that could claim to be their equal. Each had turned away to wreak disproportionate devastation.
I wasn’t sure whether that had actually happened or not, but the entire narrative remained a lesson in hubris. All of us were certain that House Baylar hadn’t heeded that lesson. Though Andros specifically dubbed it a ‘fortunate tragedy’, out of all the nomad gods – the Lizard; the Ox; the Owl; the Fox (on the rare occasions it left its forests) – only Enn could have devastated the city so completely. And of all the gods, Enn was the most hateful.
Rita – eyes cold behind a litany of quips – had theorised that if the Ox didn’t turn around and stomp Baylar, the Albrights certainly would. The merchant House had set a dangerous precedent, and leaving it unpunished was a fool’s move. Neither Tully nor Maddie had said anything at all. The only movement from either came from Maddie placing her head in her hands.
The second piece of information was that Baylar knew our rough location. Andros had crushed a pair of beads which served to communicate with his House’s General. Everyone present was familiar with the process: Tully, Rita, and I had used them in the employ of our respective Houses, and Maddie had seen them used by the scribes and accountants of her noble family. Gast had given me a short, unembellished explanation of how she thought they worked; a bead could be carved with runes that lent them a sympathetic link with another, identical bead – so long as they were made from the same relatively weak material. When one bead cracked, its alternate would also do so as well. It wasn’t a robust enough system for specific messages, but in a pinch it would quickly communicate some preset phrase.
The two Andros broke signalled two things: ‘objective found’ and ‘heavy losses’. His lack of a follow-up formed a silent third message: his squad was so heavily damaged they could not check back in. Tully and I briefly played with the idea of uncovering the beads from the burning farmstead, but it was more than likely they had already turned to ash.
When I’d prompted the Commander about the bead Seoras had broken, he’d thought I was testing him with false information. The man had no idea what I was talking about. Seoras’ bead was broken according to a private agenda.
I kept that piece of information to myself.
Given that their General knew the route Andros had taken, he would also have a vague understanding of where we were, and the direction we were heading. The three others in the wagon were still recovering from the news about Spires, however this was more immediately catastrophic news. It was hardly surprising, though.
The third piece of information was. Every single Baylarian tracking detachment had been given orders to stay away from a specific area. On the western edge of the Fox’s forest was a strip of land forbidden from them under threat of death.
The map we had on the table showed little more than the shape of the Heartlands and the river systems – no topographical information, a vague understanding of settlement locations, and no terrain description – yet as incomplete as the strip of paper was, it was the best information Heltia had on their steadings. No one bothered making anything more complete; the next Aching – if there was a next one – would reassemble the region’s geography so thoroughly the effort was borderline pointless.
So how was Baylar able to point to a specific location? They’d either planned their invasion so far in advance they’d been able to chart the area better than the House that owned it, or someone had given them the information. Both Andros and I- and Seoras had believed the same thing: the Albrights were keeping something there.
But more specifically, Seoras had somehow been certain it was Ichor – the alternative bloodtech power-source Heltia had been searching for.
“So our man snoozing out there reckons it’s pseudo-Godsblood?” Rita scoffed. “Dunno how hard you pushed him, Vin, but it was obviously too much for him.”
I squinted at her. “You think it’s not real? Why’d Heltia offer the bounty, then?”
She shrugged. “Desperation’s what I figured.”
My eyes flicked towards Tully.
“I wasn’t privy to the inner workings of Neelam’s mind. Owlbloods are rarely easy to understand.” The scarred woman looked downwards, seemingly in thought. “But I never though him to be the kind of leader who would do something he didn’t believe in.”
“Maddie?” I coughed awkwardly. “Uh, Head… Maddie?”
“Maddie,” the young woman instructed sternly. “And I don’t know either. I wasn’t… They didn’t…”
“You were too young,” Tully offered. “Not yet enshrined in the Nest proper.”
She smiled thinly. “Maybe. Either way, I don’t know.”
“Whatever the reason…” As I stretched my arms, a groan erupted from my chest. Being cramped in the wagon was doing nothing good for my back. “…Baylar’s got a dead spot near or in their blockade.”
Maddie’s brows furrowed. “Blockade?”
I clicked my tongue angrily. “I forgot to tell you, did I?”
The fourth piece of information was so obvious I’d neglected to mention it. The General had sneezed out a proliferation of search parties. Around forty of equal size, with nearly half of them being concentrated in our general vicinity.
“What does that have to do with a blockade?” asked the young Head.
Tully hummed. “It’s the best and most obvious response to the information they’ve received. They’ll gather the already mobilised forces to block our front, and send a detachment from Spires to crush our back.”
I nodded. “That’s only if they trust Commander Andros, however.”
The woman levelled her gaze towards me. “Is there any reason why they wouldn’t?”
I blinked. “He seems incompetent.”
“Baylar wouldn’t allow a truly incompetent individual anything more than a ceremonial position.”
All I could offer to that was a shrug.
Rita glanced at me. “I assume you’re for using the ‘dead spot’ t’get through the blockade?”
“…Yes,” I tentatively posited. “Or hide for a while. Might give us a chance to use the… Ichor to resupply some of your contraptions, if it’s real. But it’s in a bad spot. We’ll have to skirt the edges of the Fox’s forest. If we err in our navigation the slightest amount…”
“Aye. We’ll wander into a god’s den.”
My fingers drummed atop my crossed knees. “There’s no way we won’t.”
The short guard eyed me. “Bit pessimistic.”
“Something will happen. Too many variables, and when the food starts burning our only way out will be through the forest.”
“If you got a better plan, we’re all ears.”
“Fleeing into the forest isn’t a bad outcome,” mused Tully.
All three of our heads snapped towards her. Before I could properly school my face, it contorted itself into a scathing glare. “Did you get hit in the head?”
I felt a rush of air, and quickly ducked Rita’s open palm. “Watch it. But Captain, what in Yoot’s saggy teats are you thinking?”
“They will pursue,” the veteran slowly began, almost entirely still but for her mouth, “on horseback. We will not outrun them. To escape the blockade, either we send Head Maleen ahead on the draught horse- “
Maddie whirled, emerald eyes flashing. “No. That’s not happening.”
Tully opened her mouth.
“I’m not leaving anyone.”
The greying woman finally got a word in. “Which,” she continued, “would be a poor plan. Travelling without any wilderness or combat skills is an easy way to get eaten by Godkin.”
The small scion deflated.
“However, they will not pursue through the Fox’s forest.”
I couldn’t help but interrupt. “That’s a better alternative?”
Her beady eyes flicked towards me. “There is a good chance of survival; many who enter Kani’s home simply don’t encounter it. If the Fox is in another of its forests- “
Disbelief shrouded my response. “One of the most common stories about Kani is about it being able to hear rain fall on the other side of the continent.”
“It may be otherwise occupied.”
“You really believe that?”
“Kani had been known to spare those that entertain it – it’s one of the more merciful gods.”
A scoff tore from my throat. “I wouldn’t call what it does to people merciful.”
“Again; we may simply not encounter it. Many journey through and remain unscathed.”
“There’s no logic to it. If generations of scholars couldn’t figure it out, neither will we.” I leaned forward. “This is a very poor plan.”
“We are in a bad position, Vin. It’s either dying by Baylar, or gambling with the Fox.”
“And- “
“Vin. They will not pursue through the forest. If the Fox finds us, some will survive, provided we humour it.”
A sigh escaped me. “I’ve no luck with dice.”
Rita leaned backwards. “Glad you’re not the one playing, Vin, because to be frank a legless, armless, mouthless, eyeless, and arseless man’s a better bet than you.”
Maddie sucked air through her teeth, cringing away from the table.
Before I could decide whether the indignation welling up within me was justified or not, Tully spoke.
“A small group is ideal.”
“Who’re you thinking?” asked Rita.
“Us Heltians. Vin and Kit are undoubtedly our best warriors; they cannot be spared. The…” Her lips curled slightly, and I bristled. “…Strain woodsman.”
When no continuation was forthcoming, I spoke. “…That’s it?”
“The children and elderly cannot sustain the pace we need. The rest are dead weight.”
I shook my head. “I won’t- “
Maddie’s voice rattled around the wagon like a loose arrow. “That’s not acceptable, Tully. There must be another way. We can… find somewhere to hide; wait for them to pass us. Or go around, or sneak through. There’s has to be something else, something that doesn’t involve…”
As her charge’s voice trailed off, Tully let loose a long breath. “If we had a more complete map, perhaps we could find a hole to curl ourselves into. We don’t, and in the time it would take to discover a place in which to conceal ourselves, we would have already been caught. Going around isn’t an option – none of us excepting perhaps Vin has a chance of escaping the blockade’s closing walls. And sneaking a group of nineteen through is far from viable.”
The young woman’s face twisted. “We would split into smaller groupings, obviously.”
“They’ll pick a line that has excellent sight-lines and illuminate it as well as they can. If you are caught, Maddie, they will find the Clutch, and they will know- “
“…I- I could throw it away- “
“No.” Tully’s interjection was immediate. Buried in its contours was a kind of disbelief, as if she’d killed a thousand warriors only for her comrades to drown her in spears.
“No,” she continued, quieter. “The Clutch is all that proves you are Heltia. Without it, there is no hope of revival.”
“Maybe we don’t…” The young Head’s eyes brushed over Tully’s, and her words fell away. She swallowed. “We still need another way.”
I allowed their moment to pass before responding. “Yes. If you don’t find a way to keep my group safe, Kit won’t come, Davian won’t come, and I won’t come.”
“And the others, too,” Maddie added. “They’re in this because of us.”
Tully leaned backwards, eyes narrowed in thought. “You are right. They are your people.” She straightened. “We will engineer the groups to give them the best chance – but the Head must go through the forest. If she’s caught and searched, they will find the Clutch and all involved will be killed.”
“Isn’t that still better odds than the damn Fox?” I protested.
“Baylar has too many sets of eyes. That will kill us as surely as any god. In the end, there’s only one Fox.”
Between a choice of humans and gods, Tully chose the god.
I wouldn’t have.