Halari trotted up to Callan and nodded sharply. It looked clear for now, and if they had anything up their sleeves, it was well-hidden from her keen eyes. She knew the people of Scrag Fort to be headstrong and blunt, so they most likely wouldn’t have a trap to spring, but she also understood why Callan wanted to be careful.

“Nothing at all?” he asked, staring past her as if he was looking for threats in the far distance.

“I had a great viewing spot from my little hole in hillside,” Halari said, looping her rifle back over her shoulder. “They look a bit tense, but then again, they always do.”

“And they didn’t see you?” Callan asked.

“Not a chance,” Halari said with a small, proud grin. “We should probably get moving, though. They don’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Then let’s move,” Callan said. He turned to the militia behind him. All looked serious and organized, but they were somewhat less threatening brandishing their picks and hammers. Halari was happy to see that still they held themselves with confidence; most actually looked ready to fight if the need arose. “Remember, just stand and look like the impressive soldiers you are,” he continued. “We’ll get this trade completed and you’ll be home by dinner.”

Some of the soldier whooped softly, and Halari chuckled. Callan was very good at getting the men encouraged, something she found herself also wanting to be good at. She paid attention to how he spoke to them, how he stood when he addressed them, and how he met their eyes one by one.

“Recruit Dalvo, do you have our Cells?” he asked. The shorter man stepped forward and raised the two cases up for all to see. “Good, don’t lose those. Otherwise, we’re trading you for our end of the bargain.”

That got a good chuckle from the militia, even Dalvo himself, but Halari saw him tuck the two cases back into his rucksack and double-check the lock once it was closed.

Then he checked it again.

“After you,” Callan said, gesturing for her to lead.

They set off towards the shallow valley that Norio and others of his kind had deemed Fortune’s Crossing, a place where Scrag Fort traders and other wasteland caravans did a lot of their deals. Halari remembered the last time she came to this spot; it was where she’d gotten her latest crate of rifle ammo, which had cost her almost a whole year’s worth of scrap and saved up food.

“Hey,” she whispered to Callan, slowing her pace to match his. “Why do you do that? Just earlier you were telling to prepare for a fight, so why make jokes with them?”

“Stress stiffens the body,” Callan said. “A soldier who’s mind is only fixed on a battle to come is more likely to falter in the face of a fear realized. Sometimes, though, it doesn’t help at all, especially in a real, large-scale battle.”

“How big was your army back in the day?” she asked.

Callan went distant again, but not unpleasantly, more of a nostalgia added to his bearing than mourning. “I had a force of around six hundred thousand troops at my command. All loyal men.”

Six-hundred thousand! Halari was staggered at the thought of such a scale. Callan’s old army alone dwarfed the population of Stargazer’s Quarry by a landslide. “And you had somebody to fight?”

“There was one battle,” Callan said, face turning hard. “Only one, then they left us alone.”

“Your people must’ve been strong,” Halari said softly.

“I’ll get your people to that point,” Callan said. “They have what it takes.”

“I sure hope so,” she said. Did they? Their ancestors were the stuff of steel by all accounts, but decades of bad leadership and worse trades had left them at a point of borderline uselessness. Hell, her grandfather had used the rifle she held to watch over his comrades as they took the Quarry from its old owners, sniping who he could see to protect his own.

Pada’s always been proud of that story, Halari thought. Could she do the same thing? If for some forsaken reason the Fort wasn’t happy to see them, or at the very least cooperative, would she kill another person? It was a hard question to ask herself.

Beasts of the wasteland were one thing, but another human being…

“Looks like we’re here,” Callan said. He raised a hand and pointed his index finger to the sky, then traced a couple circles in the air. It was apparently some old hand signal that meant to form up. The militia responded quickly, having practiced their response for the last day, and moved into a good, but rough-edged formation behind them. Dalvo came to stand right behind them while the rest stacked up in loose triangle.

“They’re better at that today,” Halari said. “Maybe we really can learn fast.”

“Told you,” Callan chuckled, then he became serious. It was a subtle, yet distinct change that she saw seep into his posture, the focus in his eyes, and the gait of his walk. He moved rhythmically like this, a steady as an approaching thunderhead in which nothing could stand in his away. She resisted the instinct to step away for distance; the air around him was lightly weighted with some kind of charge.

Fortune’s Crossing was really nothing more than a pair of intersecting paths in the black stone. Rocky hills rose up around it, cutting off the view to the north and east. At each corner of the intersection, the remains of some old structures sat like headstones in a graveyard. Halari wasn’t able to what they had been in the past, so fallen and destroyed as they were. All of them barely had walls rising more than a foot or two off the ground.

“Greetings to the Scrag Fort,” Callan called, stopping the caravan before the other party. Halari eyed them warily, recalling her conversation with Callan and Norio a couple nights before. The trade master was loathe to admit that, perhaps, he hadn’t left their last exchange on good terms. “We thank you for agreeing to meet with us.”

The trade master of the Scrag Fort was a stocky man with a full, charcoal beard and braided mohawk to match. Jagged tattoos marked his face around his eyes.

He looks kinda mad, Halari thought, attempting to keep her hands off the loop of her rifle.

“Where’s that little dungweasel?” he asked without returning the greeting. His voice was like Old Bear’s, gravelly and tonal. But this man had a far less amicable aura that big ol’ softie.

“If you’re speaking of my trade master,” Callan said, clasping his hands behind his back, “he’s on assignment elsewhere. You’re dealing with me today.”

“And you are?” the trader grumbled, crossing his arms. He looked unhappy that Norio wasn’t attending; she figured he was looking to make him pay for whatever slight had been done.

“I am Callan.”

Halari waited for the rest of him to announce the rest of his titles, but they never came. She looked at him confused, but he kept his attention on the men before him.

What’s he doing? she wondered. She knew he decided to downplay his status, but to ignore it entirely… Part of her wanted him to throw lightning at them until they cowered. But that wouldn’t help anybody in the long run.

“And who do I have the pleasure of working with?” Callan asked.

“Kurt,” the trade master said simply.

“An honor, trade master Kurt,” Callan said with a respectful nod to the man. “Now, would you like to see our wares?” He held out his hand, palm up, and Dalvo dutifully placed one case of Flame Cells into his hand. Halari smiled at the short man as a ‘good job,’ hoping to put the man at ease since he looked a bit nervous.

“The message said you have fresh Cells,” Kurt said. “How’s that possible?”

Callan approached the Scrag Fort and opened the case before Kurt. “We’ve developed a method to recharge them. See for yourself.”

Halari watched closely as Kurt took a Cell between his fingers. If he was going to try something, it was this moment when he had the prize in his hands. She saw the hunger materialize the moment Kurt realized the validity of their claim. The Flame Cell cast its light on his tattoos, emphasizing their contrast to his ghastly complexion.

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“I’ll take it,” Kurt said.

“Wonderful,” Callan said. “What will you trade for this case?”

“Nah, not the case,” Kurt said, closing his fist around the Cell. “I want your recharge tool.”

And there it is. Halari stiffened and allowed her hand to drift back to the barrel of her rifle. She failed to stop it from trembling.

“The recharge method is not for sale,” Callan said, calmly folding his hands behind his back again and taking the case out of Kurt’s view.

How’s he so calm? Halari placed one finger on the metal of her gun, ready to swing it around and fire at a moment’s notice.

“Then I don’t think we have a deal,” Kurt said. “Why would I take some Cells when I could have the real deal?”

“And if I asked for the method you used to make firearms?” Callan asked, arching a brow at the man. Kurt started, just seeming to notice his inhuman eyes, and took a warding step backwards. “Would you be willing to give me that? Something like that would be worth the whole Quarry, I assume.”

Kurt stared at him for a long moment. “Fine,” he huffed. “What do you want?”

Halari relaxed, but only a little. They still weren’t out of the danger zone yet.

“For this case and the other, I want those two trawlers,” Callan said, looking pointedly to the array of vehicles in the Fort’s caravan. Halari sized them up, comparing them to her own vehicle. They looked to be in better shape, but she doubted they weren’t anywhere near as reliable as hers. No bias, of course. “While we both know that this is a vastly unfair trade, I’m willing to make it in good faith to establish better relations going forward.”

“It’s as good a deal as people using underhanded tactics are gonna get,” Kurt grumbled. “Spying on us like that before you showed up.”

“Excuse me?” Callan said. He shot her a questioning look. She knew his next response depended on her reaction here.

There’s no way… Halari scrunched her face. They weren’t even looking in my direction. She gave him a very small shake of the head.

“We sent no spies,” Callan said. “Differences aside, my trade master vouched for your trustworthiness.”

“Really?” Kurt glared at him, tattoos shifting as he did so. “Big guy in yellow, you didn’t think he’d stand out?”

His words slammed into her like a freezing gust of wind. “Oh no…” Cold washed over Halari, inside and out. Her stomach turned to lead, and her fingers went numb. “Callan, we need to go now.”

“How long ago was this?” Callan asked Kurt quickly, grabbing the man by the shoulder. “How much time passed after you saw the spy and before we sho—?” He cut off suddenly and his head snapped towards the east.

“What is it?” Halari asked, propping her rifle on her shoulder and chambering a bullet.

“You said their breathing sounds like fluttering, right?” Callan turned fully to face the eastern hill. “They’re here.”

Halari stood frozen, watching as the even ridgeline of the terrain above broke. A single figure, covered in yellow rags, staggered into view and stared at them from above. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just watched them.

“Get your men to arms,” Callan said without looking to Kurt. “They are here to kill us.”

Another figure broke the horizon, then another. The gildgrown conquered the horizon one by one until some twenty or so of them stood in a silent line, staring at them with eyes unseeable behind their masks.

“First company!” Callan shouted, balling his fists at his sides, “to arms now!”

Halari heard the men shuffle behind her with sounds of plastic scraping thick cloth as they drew their picks and hammers. The gildgrown looked similarly armed with harsh-edged cleavers held in their too-long arms, but some held strange devices in their free hands that resembled wide bore firearms.

The lead gildgrown, she assumed, raised one arm and pointed down at them with his jagged cleaver.

Then he screamed.

It was a horrible sound like a dying beast drowning in heavy slog. Halari cringed under the noise, but she kept her rifle trained on him, as did the two Scrag Fort enforcers with their own firearms. Her finger trembled on the trigger, waiting for the moment.

In a fluttering, golden rush, the gildgrown charged down the hill weapons high.

Halari fired first. Her shot hit home on one of their shoulders, but the freak didn’t slow even as their blood sprayed out behind them. Two other shots rang out to similar effect, with one catching a gildgrown in the eye and the other slamming into a third’s gut. The first went down, but like the one Halari tagged, the other didn’t stop moving.

They didn’t have time to shoot again.

Within an instant, the gildgrown were on them and all she saw was yellow. Something slammed into her, knocking her away from Callan and to the ground, where she rolled and recovered quickly.

People shouted, metal clanged against metal and the odd shot rang out.

And everywhere, permeating all was that horrible fluttering wheeze.

Halari saw one gildgrown face down a member of the Scrag Fort’s caravanners, who swung a thick axe-like weapon at the freak’s head. The gildgrown ducked under the blow with suprising agility, then raised its odd gun and fired.

A burst of yellow smoke exploded from the muzzle and shrouded the man’s face. He dropped his weapon immediately and raised both hands to his neck. Thin, yellow tendrils sprouted from the trader’s face, eyes, and throat as he collapsed to the stone and writhed.

Halari forced herself to move; otherwise she knew she’d be totally frozen in shock. She pushed through a throng of bodies to try and reach Callan, but the chaos was too thick. She ducked a wild swing from a Quarry militiaman who was trying cave in his enemy’s golden head, but quickly found a cleaver slammed between his neck and shoulder.

Halari froze then, paralyzed by the sudden, metallic scent of blood that permeated the air as one of her people died in front of her, cleaved almost in two from neck to opposite armpit.

The gildgrown turned to her, wicked blade dripping with fresh blood. He took a step towards and raised his weapon, then brought it down in a merciless strike.

She barely blocked the blow with the stock of her rifle, holding it horizontally in both hands above her head. She wasn’t fast enough to evade the kick though. The gildgrown rammed its foot into her gut, sending her sprawling back to the black stone, winded.

I’m gonna…die here. Halari rolled to the side desperately and pushed herself up, swinging her rifle as she did so. It was a panicked attack, but a lucky one at that. The polymer butt of her rifle smacked into the gildgrown’s chin, just under its mask’s tank. Her enemy reeled backward from the force of the blow but didn’t so much as lose its balance and recovered quickly, shaking its head clear before advancing on her.

It swung again; there was no form to its strike, just raw power, forcing Halari to backpedal on unsteady feet to evade the blade. Its uneven edge whizzed just centimeters from her nose and caught the toughened material of her trouser’s knee guard where it glanced off.

Halari smacked out again with the butt of her rifle, but this time her enemy was prepared. It caught her weapon in a thick, gloved hand and wrenched it away from her, sending it flying a few feet away. Without hesitating it swung to decapitate her, a blow she dove from in a clumsy heap.

No options left, she thought frantically. She drew her hunting knife and struck with it as the gildgrown moved to attack. It deflected her knife with the flat of its own cleaver, then punched her in the face.

Halari didn’t even feel the blow. One second, she was standing off balance having been thoroughly blocked, the next she was on her back looking at a slowly spinning sky.

How’d I get down here… Her vision faded in and out, but between moments of clarity she saw her golden enemy loom over and raise its weapon to cleave her head in half.

Then, a small, dark shape slammed into the freak and knocked it out of her view. She sat up and shook her head, then quickly looked for her quarry. To her surprise, she saw Dalvo latched on to the gildgrown’s leg where it couldn’t get a good angle to chop at him. Dalvo pulled and successfully yanked the gildgrown’s leg out from under it, then pushed. Caught off guard, the enemy was forced backwards and lost its balance, falling to its back in a golden heap.

Before it landed, the gildgrown swung out with its free leg and caught Dalvo’s face squarely. The shorter man was thrown off and sailed a few feet away to land on his stomach.

He didn’t rise again.

Yet, the gildgrown was wide open. Halari, filled with a frenzied, cold instinct, jumped onto its chest and pinned its weapon arm with her knee.

She slammed her knife into the freak’s face, just under the cloudy lens where its left eye might be. Then she slammed it into its throat.

Then, its chest.

Then twice into where she thought its heart was.

Halari stabbed the gildgrown over and over and over. Each strike came with an image:

Tel’s severed head.

Viria’s face cut in half.

Her wonderful father with gold tendrils growing from his eyes.

She stabbed the gildgrown again and again and again, each blow coming out with a spray of blood. It was going to kill her, it was going to kill her friends, it was going to hurt the people she loved. She didn’t realize her enemy’s fluttering, wheezing breaths went quiet or that its body went still. She just kept stabbing it so that it would die, so that it wouldn’t hurt another of her people, so that—

A strong hand grabbed her knife hand by the wrist while an arm wrapped around her midsection and pulled her off her enemy. She came away kicking and yelling.

“NO! No!” she screamed, trying to break free. “It’s still breathing, it’s gonna get up! Let me go! It’s gonna get up!”

“Halari! Halari!” Whose voice was that? “Halari, it’s dead!” The person holding her spun her around.

It was Callan. He looked bloodied; his hands were covered in fresh red liquid up to his elbows.

He held her wrist tightly and his eyes were burning. Still, she struggled against him. That thing was going to get up, it was going to kill her and everybody that mattered in her life.

“Halari, stop,” he said firmly, jerking her head to meet his gaze. “Halari, breathe. It’s dead, you got it. It’s not getting up. Breathe.”

“No, nonono,” she shook her head desperately. Her heart was pounding, her fingers were numb, and everything shook. “It’s not—"

“You got it,” Callan said. “Breathe in.”

Halari took a shaky breath in, then she dared a look at her enemy.

And went entirely numb.

Did I... do that? she thought. The gildgrown was butchered like its whole body was recently out of a meat grinder. Not an inch of yellow showed on its front and some blood even dribbled out in rivers to the black stone ground.

And it was dead. That much was obvious.

“oh gods…” Halari’s body tensed, coiling on itself until she doubled over. All of the fear and stress from the past few minutes drained out of her…

In a massive flood of vomit.