Sakrattars wouldn’t say that he regretted turning down the food they received in prison, but after three hungry days of traveling, his stomach, at least, was experiencing some remorse. It had been a narrow escape from Ironfang’s fortress, even with the chaos of the prisoner riot covering their backs. Leo, the only legionnaire left alive besides Tullius, was convinced that it was Aegis’ divine protection that saw them through. Sakrattars thought he may be right—several of the prisoners had been killed or recaptured but everyone in their group survived.
Fortunately, Barzom and the other Free Ferix who escaped allowed the companions to accompany them back to Forgeheart. The ferix navigated the land expertly, avoiding paths patrolled by brigands and known ankheg hunting grounds. Sakrattars didn’t know what landmarks or cues the ferix were looking for, but it appeared to be working. To his eyes, the steppe looked exactly the same in every direction, with the only indication that they were headed the right way being the Grayspur mountains to the northwest.
Fearing that Ironfang may send warg-riders after them, they had little time to rest or look for food. Not that there was much to be found. The steppe was lacking in edible plants and the only animals to be seen were field rats and small brown birds, both of whom were quick and not worth expending resources to catch. Following Barzom’s instruction, the companions wrung fresh water from thick, spongy grass but it did little to fill their bellies.
“Maybe we should try the ankheg trail,” Leif said sullenly after one particularly loud stomach growl. “What if they taste like ice crabs?”
“Even if we did kill one, I wouldn’t eat it,” Khez replied. “You pierce one of their venom sacs and the whole thing’s ruined.”
Leif groaned. “I’m at the point where I’d take some chances.”
“Humans can live for weeks without food,” Sakrattars said. “Your complaining is just making us all more miserable.”
“Well you both are making me miserable,” Jo grumbled.
“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ but. . .” Barzom flashed a carefree grin and shrugged. “Food is scarce out here, especially going into winter. You learn to not be picky.”
By the late afternoon, the haggard crew reached the outer limits of the Grayspurs and within striking distance of Forgeheart. A squad of ferix went scouting ahead while the rest sheltered in the shadow of a looming mountain. Kaja occupied herself with chasing little lizards through a rocky outcrop, her eyes glinting like a cat’s. At one point, Sakrattars thought he saw a skinny tail disappear into her mouth and he turned away in a bizarre mixture of disgust and renewed hunger.
When the scouts returned, they delivered a report to Barzom in muted ferish.
“The way to Forgeheart is clear of riders,” Barzom said. “We’ll loop up to the west entrance. The southern entrance is full of orcs.”
That got Dimitri’s attention. “Orcs? This far north?” he asked, his voice raspy. He lay on a stretcher cobbled together from scrap wood and weapon shafts, but being dragged over the rough, hilly ground was just as bad as walking, and he wanted nothing more than a glass of strong spirits and a warm bed.
“Yeah. . .” Barzom sighed, running a paw across the back of his neck. “Ironfang’s got a little encampment set up out there. They can’t breach the wall but their warg-riders make getting in and out of Forgeheart a pain in the ass.”
“There’s no helping it, then,” Jo said. “Let’s go.”
It was evening when the party arrived at the west gate. The orange light of the setting sun illuminated the blackened steel ramparts with an eerie flame-like glow. Spreading across the valley, Forgeheart resembled a fortified city more than an Imperial-style fortress. In the north, where the valley narrowed, multi-story buildings crawled up the mountainsides like metal vines, stretching well beyond the chilly, low-hanging mist. Dark smoke from dozens of fires billowed up over the rocky outer wall, cloaking the city in a dense smog. Sakrattars followed the smoke trail into the sky, taking in the sights with undisguised wonder, as Barzom and the others handled communications with the guards.
Passing through the west gate, the companions entered a large, open field. A narrow road snaked through the rolling hills, leading to the inner wall. Flanking either side of the road were pastures of free-grazing animals—the same animals Ironfang’s army used to pull their wagons. They were twice the size of a horse, with stout legs, long golden-brown hair, and a thick horn protruding from their noses. Some of them looked up as the party passed, but most kept their massive heads down in the grass. Amale looked at the creatures with interest.
“What are they?” Kaja asked.
Barzom cocked his head and scratched the back of his neck. “We call them”—he uttered a noise more akin to a growling rasp than a recognizable word—“I don’t know what they are in Imperial.”
“Steppeland rhinoceros,” Dimitri croaked. The climb to the west gate had damn near killed him but he wasn’t about to ruin his entrance into Forgeheart by being a useless carcass.
Barzom shrugged. “Yeah, that. I guess.”
“They look mighty formidable,” Leif said. “I wouldn’t want to face them in a cavalry charge.”
“You’d think that just looking at ‘em,” Barzom replied. “But as war beasts, they’re worse than useless. Any loud sound scares them to death and they’ll trample anyone in their way. They’re not very bright.”
“So why keep them?”
“Food, mostly. Though their hide and hair is useful too.” Barzom’s blase expression took on an uncharacteristic gravity. “There’s not enough grass here to feed the herd through the winter, though. If you ask me, I think they plan on starving us out. Not even Ironfang would be insane enough to lay siege outright. Forgeheart’s been here for centuries, and no one’s ever breached the walls.”
The companions traveled the rest of the way to the inner wall in silence. A sentry peered down at them, then signaled for the heavy gate to be opened. Leaving the tranquil calm of the pastures behind, the companions stepped into a chaotic urban landscape of crude metal, bustling bodies, and a cacophony of noise. A forge complex just within the gate echoed with the rhythmic impacts of dozens of smithy hammers, while steam vents whistled and whined. Sakrattars used a hand to fan away the hot, sulphuric haze belching from the smelters into the street.
A group of ferix miners ambled by, every step resounding with a clanking thud on the metal walkway. They had pickaxes slung over their shoulders and chest harnesses set with a glowing orb at the breast that functioned like a lantern. Sparing the companions a quizzical look, they soon lost interest and turned down the northern road leading to a yawning tunnel carved into the sheer mountainside. Huge machines built into the cave mouth whirred and thrummed, exhaust hissing from their valves as chain belts hauled carriage-sized buckets of rock and ore up from the depths. The amount of ore they were pulling out was staggering—not only a testament to the richness of the mountains, but to the ferix’s technological ingenuity.
Beyond the mines and forges were a disarray of munitions stations, warehouses, makeshift habitations, and medical tents, all marked with simple colored banners flapping in the cold wind. Barzom called out a curt word and the medics in a nearby tent looked up. Upon registering the wounded, they rushed over and began helping the ferix to the treatment area.
“Pleasure,” Khez said, looking at Jo then Leif. With a terse nod, she followed her partner into one of the medic’s tents. Sakrattars pursed his lips. He didn’t get on with Khez, but he still felt the sting of rejection.
Barzom growled after the retreating medics in heated ferish. He gestured to Dimitri, who was now barely conscious, his face pale. After an exchange of unpleasantries and bared teeth, the medics relented and carried Dimitri’s stretcher into the tent. Tullius and Leo dutifully followed.
Barzom grunted. “Red Paw Clan. Stubborn as rocks, the lot of them. Only agreed to treat him when I mentioned what he did against Ironfang. Come on, let’s find you a billet somewhere.” He waved them onward.
“Red Paw Clan?” Leif asked.
Barzom’s ear twitched and his expression soured again. “Best surgeons in Calthia, but it’s gone to their heads if you ask me. A lowly scout from the Blue Shield Clan asking them to treat a human? You’d think I asked them to wallow in rhino shit.” He chuffed. “But all clans are equal in Forgeheart and all that. Really sticks in their craw.”
Sakrattars thought back to the briefing Dimitri had given them early on in their journey. The Free Ferix weren’t formally united, rather they were a haphazard collection of different clans who, out of shared necessity, fled from their homes across the Steppes to Forgeheart. Within the sanctity of the walls, all disputes were forgotten and fights between its inhabitants were strictly forbidden. But that didn’t mean that everyone got along, just that their disagreements were expressed with dirty looks and snide remarks rather than with blood. It reminded Sakrattars of politics at home in Arvisian Bay.
Leif rubbed his chin. “So if all clans are equal here, then how was your leader chosen?”
Barzom gave him a puzzled look. “Vyrkad was the best at it,” he said. “How do you do it?”
“Not like that,” Sakrattars said dryly.
“Hm. No wonder you’ve got problems.”
Sakrattars wanted to point out that the Free Ferix had plenty of problems too but decided it was best to stay quiet. This was a diplomatic trip, after all, and he didn’t want to jeopardize Dimitri’s mission.
The roadway soon opened up into a plaza, roofed in the ubiquitous sheet metal, where a few dozen cubs were attending a lesson taught by a gray-muzzled teacher. He pointed to complex equations written on a black-stone chalkboard as the young cubs squirmed in their seats. Sakrattars recognized the equations as chemical formulas, though the elements they described were unfamiliar.
Once one cub noticed the newcomers, the entire class rushed out with a squeal, crowding around the companions, chattering excitedly in ferish, and tugging at the party’s gear while yelling questions over one another. The teacher banged a metal-coated forearm against one of the pillars holding up the plaza roof but it did little to sway the cubs’ enthusiasm. Only after Barzom growled and bared his fangs were they sufficiently cowed and reluctantly retreated back to their lessons. One lingered behind, then stuck out his tongue and scampered off.
The teacher picked up a marble of chalk to resume the lesson, and Sakrattars realized that his arm wasn’t covered in armor—it was a real, working metal limb. Imperial soldiers were sometimes fitted with wooden prosthetics, but even the finest were crude devices with pulleys and switches that had to be worked manually. The teacher’s metal prosthesis operated as naturally as flesh, save for the whirring gears and hiss of steam venting from the underside.
Was it magic? Perhaps it was like the constructs that the late Ordo Draconis agent, Feriel, and her daughter, Saara, built. But constructs were programmed to work in specific ways and required some amount of puppeteering, and Sakrattars didn’t know any spells capable of organic movement. The ferix didn’t seem to subscribe to Thosian magical theory anyway. Indeed, the ferix didn’t appear to worship any deities, magical or otherwise. If they dabbled in magic, it was a type completely foreign to Sakrattars and his wizarding peers.
A steam whistle sounded, startling Sakrattars from his thoughts, and a pack of cubs bounded out of an adjacent building. With his pupils distracted for a second time, the teacher grumbled under his breath and began banging his arm against the pillar once more.
“Tordom!” Barzom called. Hearing his name, a cream-colored cub separated from the rest with a shrill yelp. Barzom kneeled and the two collided in an affectionate embrace, rubbing their heads together and purring loudly.
“Your son?” Jo asked.
“Yeah.” Barzom planted a paw between Tordom’s ears and ruffled his fur. Tordom whispered a question in ferish, looking the motley crew up and down. Though wary, he couldn’t disguise his burning curiosity.
“They’re from the Aurean Empire,” Barzom replied in Imperial Common, “they want to talk to Vyrkad.”
Tordom’s ears perked. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer. “Wow! You came from all the way across the grassland? You’re shorter and skinnier than I thought you’d be. Well except for the tall one with the stripes.” He looked at Amale without pausing for breath. “Is this your dog? Do they walk on two legs in the south? They walk on four legs up here.” Amale’s ears flattened. He was already having a hard time in such a crowded, industrial place and being called a “dog” wasn’t helping his mood.
“Tordom. . .” Barzom warned.
Taking his father’s chastising in stride, Tordom turned to Kaja. “You’re a cub, right? I’m Tordom,” he said cheerfully.
Jo nudged Kaja. She held out a hand the way she had seen Dimitri doing when meeting new people. “Kaja,” she said meekly. Tordom swatted her hand playfully, and she withdrew it, confused.
“You should come see the others,” he said. “Don’t get to meet a human cub every day.”
Thinking it unlikely that any Irkallu-related threats could be hiding in Forgeheart’s walls, Jo nodded. “Go on with him,” she encouraged.
“But I’m not a cub,” Kaja said earnestly, “or a—”
“You’re not?” Tordom interrupted, much to the relief of the companions. “Sorry, I thought since you were the littlest. . .”
“He’s asking if you’re a kid,” Barzom laughed. “Go have fun.”
Kaja brightened, the misunderstanding clearing. “Okay,” she said and took off with Tordom towards the temporary creche.
“Don’t stay out too late!” Barzom called after them. “And bring her back to the Blue Shield barracks!”
Sakrattars watched Kaja and Tordom go, his eyes unfocused. How much did that small cub know that would shatter the limits of what Imperial scholars thought was feasible? As a child of a wealthy merchant and influential politician, Sakrattars received an elite education, yet his brain was a jumbled up mess of new information—impossibly tall buildings, mysterious chemical equations, and working limbs made of metal. He always thought of himself as a worldly, well-read elf, but being in Forgeheart made him feel small and ignorant.
“Hey! Fancy elf! You gonna join the children or are you coming with us?” Leif asked with a laugh.
Sakrattars scoffed and quickened his pace to catch up. “At least the children could provide me with intelligent conversation,” he retorted, “and stop calling me ‘fancy elf’.”
Leif looked back and held a hand over his heart. “Always so mean,” he laughed again. When he turned forward, he collided into the great, furred back of a strange ferix. She whipped around in a snarl. Her face was crisscrossed with scars and one of her eyes was missing, the lid sewn shut long ago.
“Hey! You better watch out, human,” she growled, prodding Leif’s chest with a clawed finger.
Sakrattars tried to usher Leif away. “I’m sorry,” he apologized quickly, avoiding eye contact, “this man here, he doesn’t—” The rest of his words were cut off when Leif pushed against him and poked the offended ferix back.
“Hey!” he said assertively. “I think you’d better watch out, kitty cat!”
The ferix grabbed Leif by the collar, lifting him off his feet. Sakrattars’ blood ran cold; he was certain that he was about to watch Leif get skewed on a set of ferix claws. He searched frantically for the others, but they had gone on ahead and were just now noticing that Sakrattars and Leif were missing.
“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” the ferix asked, leaning close and snorting hot breath into Leif’s face.
Leif hacked and sputtered. “Because”—he wheezed—“I’m all stringy. I’ll stick in your teeth.” He flashed a fierce grin.
After a heart-stopping moment, the ferix let out a pleased chuckle. She put Leif back down and thumped him on the chest, a friendly blow that sent him staggering. “I like this one,” she said to Barzom. When she left, all eyes turned to Leif.
He rubbed at the red mark on his neck and grinned sheepishly. “This place is exciting, isn’t it?” Neither Amale nor Sakrattars found the humor in the situation, and Jo just smiled in silent amusement. “Right,” Leif said, coughing, “so about that billet. . .”
*
*
Though he had only a head of height on her, Kaja struggled to keep up with Tordom’s long, easy strides. He loped along free and unencumbered, while she was bogged down by skirts and the awkwardness of holding her hood tight over her horns.
The last remnants of the sun disappeared below the horizon and the cloudy sky turned dark gray, blanketing Forgeheart in shadow. As if sensing the lack of light, metal lanterns lining the path flickered on. Kaja had always seen Imperial street lamps lit manually, except for the magical lights in Aurea’s Undertown. Perhaps these ferix lights were magical too.
“Hey guys!” Tordom yelled, waving a paw to catch the attention of his friends. The cubs immediately swarmed Kaja, who tried unsuccessfully to shy away from the attention. “Her name is Kaja,” Tordom continued confidently. “And she doesn’t know ferish so use your Imperial.”
“You’re a human?” one asked.
“Are the Imperials gonna fight the orcs?” another cried.
“Is it cold without fur?”
Kaja swallowed, her heart beating faster. She was grateful when Tordom commanded the attention back.
“Let’s give her a ferix welcome,” Tordom declared. “Shieldwall!” The cubs cheered and echoed “Shieldwall!”.
Even though she didn’t know what “shieldwall” was, Kaja followed Tordom and the others to a side yard. A pair of small, horned rabbits that had been enjoying the grass scampered between the buildings when the cubs approached.
“I’m captain!” one cub called.
“Okay, then I’m the other captain,” Tordom said. “Let’s pick teams. You first.” The rest of the cubs clumped together in front of the two self-proclaimed leaders, each jostling and going up on tiptoes to get the attention of the choosing captain.
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Okay ummm. . . Nauvhall, you’re on my team!”
Tordom pointed into the crowd. “Then I pick. . . Utbiel!” The chosen cub pushed the others aside to make his way to Tordom’s side.
Kaja had no idea what she should be doing. Was she supposed to be shoving and yelping like the cubs? Was that shieldwall? She didn’t really want to do that; it didn’t seem as fun as they were making it out to be. But she also knew that Dimitri was there to make friends with the ferix and she didn’t want to ruin it by not being friends with them. She looked down at her hand, the hand she used to take the Oath with Saara and Osric, and suddenly missed them terribly. They were the first friends she had made since—
“I pick the girl!”
Yanked from the haze of confusion and memories, Kaja looked up to see every eye on her. Her face flushed. “H-huh?” she stammered.
“I said I pick you, human girl!” the other captain reiterated, pointing at her. Half the cubs still hadn’t been chosen. Why had he picked her?
Seeing her hesitate, Tordom nudged her forward. “Go stand with your team. When we’re done, we’ll start the game.”
Kaja went to stand with her new team, her hands working at her cloak in worry. So shieldwall was a game. The cubs, though scruffy and lanky, looked tough and all of them were bigger than Kaja was. She wanted to ask what the rules of the game were, but ended up staying quiet.
The rest of the picking process went quickly, and before long a few of the cubs had fetched a pile of crude wooden shields. When the captains started passing them out, the others began pushing and shoving again to get the best ones. Kaja knew she should probably get one too, but she also didn’t want to get caught up in the fray.
Seeing her singled out again, Tordom walked a shield over to her. “Here, you put it on like this,” he said. He slid his arm through the loops, and pulled them tight. “See? It’s not going anywhere,” he said, shaking his arm to show it was true.
Kaja slowly reached out her arm and Tordom helped her to adjust the straps. She had seen Leif use his shield before, but he always had an axe too. She didn’t have an axe.
“Line up!”
The cubs arranged themselves into two lines, assembling into practiced rows of ordered ranks. It all happened so fast, Kaja was left in the open space between them.
“Kaja! Get in line!” Tordom whispered.
She scurried over to stand next to him.
“No, on the other side!”
She switched sides, but couldn’t find an opening. The cubs had their shields overlapping, creating a solid wall of wood and bodies.
“Let her in, you stink-heads!” Tordom said, curling his lip over his fangs. The cubs grumbled and made a space in the center of the line, but it wasn’t big enough for her to fully slot into. Standing awkwardly with the larger cubs behind her shoulders, Kaja mimicked them and raised her shield arm. “Okay, hold on tight!” Tordom said.
“Wha—why?” But Kaja’s voice was overshadowed by another cub shouting: “charge!”
With an exchange of snarls and jeers, the two lines crashed together, wood clacking and clattering as shield met shield. Kaja was carried along by the cubs on her team like a leaf caught on an ocean wave. Her shield made contact with Tordom’s. “Okay, now push!” he cried excitedly. “See if your army can beat ours!”
Kaja dug her feet into the cold grass. She scrabbled and scraped, leaning her full weight against the shield. But no matter what she did, she couldn’t make headway; nor could she retreat with the other cubs pushing her forward with all their might. Both teams were hurling rude words and laughing, but Kaja wasn’t enjoying herself at all. There were too many voices, too many kids she didn’t know, and she felt like she was trapped.
Just when she thought she’d pass out from lack of breath, her team’s line loosened. Sensing weakness, Tordom’s army pressed forward with more force and a few cubs to Kaja’s right toppled over, opening a gap. She tried to escape before the others could fill in but Tordom was pushing on her shield too hard and, the moment she relented, they both went sailing into the grass.
Tordom tried to get off of her but the cubs were packed too tightly together for him to get up. Clawed feet trampled the grass, tails swished back and forth, shields collided. Kaja wanted it to stop but she couldn’t remember the word for it in Imperial Common. Her breath quickened and Tordom’s weight made the feeling of suffocation worse. It was hot, it was confusing, it was scary. She needed it to stop.
Dragon magic surged through her veins and crackled like lightning across her skin. Tordom’s yellow eyes went wide but he didn’t have time to react. The temperature plummeted and an explosion of hoarfrost spread across the shields of the closer cubs. Terror and confusion took hold as the cubs scattered out of their ranks, some clawing the frozen shields off their arms in a panic.
A primal fear gripped Tordom like icy talons closing around his heart. He yelped and threw himself into the frosted grass. His ice-coated shield forgotten, he raised his paws to ward Kaja away. “You’re a m-monster!” he sobbed as he scuffled backwards. “Please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. . . don’t hurt me.”
At that moment, everything ceased. The threat had gone, and the only thing Kaja felt was guilt. She rose to a kneel, turning her gaze towards Tordom but he refused to look at her. A single tear dampened the fur on his cheek. The same expression of confusion and fear was on every face of every cub around her. It was then she realized that her hood had fallen around her shoulders, exposing her horns.
Her chest tight, Kaja scrambled to her feet. She jerked up her hood, glanced at Tordom one last time, then took off into the streets of Forgeheart.
*
*
“By Orvim’s axe, I’d kill for a dried herring right now,” Leif grumbled. He leaned back in his chair, boots on the table, and clutched his growling stomach.
Amale flattened his ears and shot him a dirty look.
“I know, I know,” Leif snapped. “We’re all hungry and talking about it makes it worse. Got it, yeah.” He lowered his feet and shifted his weight forward, bringing the chair legs down with a thud.
Amale rolled his eyes and returned to rifling through his med kit. He had checked the kit five times already, but there was nothing else to do except lie awake and think about his empty belly.
After they parted with Kaja, Barzom found a quartermaster who offered them an apartment that wasn’t being used. Though the furniture was bare and dusty, it had beds—beds big enough for Jo, for which she was grateful—and it was warm. In the morning, they’d be brought before Vyrkad Gleamgear, but with Kaja still out with Barzom’s son, it didn’t feel right retiring for the night until she was safely back.
Jo pressed against the barred glass window. “Maybe I should go look for her,” she said.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Sakrattars said, his gaze flicking up from his spellbook. “You let her go out with Saara in Barsicum and she came back in one piece.” Jo frowned, her eyes darkening. Ignoring the look, Sakrattars went back to his reading.
Jo returned to the window in silence. A few moments later, she sat bolt upright with a gasp. “It’s her! Wait. . . is she. . ?” Jo rushed to the door and opened it just as Kaja shoved her way through. Without offering or waiting for a greeting, Kaja darted into the nearest bedroom and slammed the door.
“Hey!” Leif started from the sudden noise. “Is she ok?”
“I’ll check,” Jo said grimly.
“Wait,” Sakrattars said, holding out a hand. Jo gave him a withering look but he swallowed and continued, “it might be good to give her time to herself.” He didn’t want to say that he instantly recognized her expression from his own childhood—back when his classmates would pick on him, calling him a liar and a show off. There were days he stormed home just like that and didn’t want to see or talk to anyone.
Kaja sniffed loudly behind the door. Jo wanted nothing more than to go to her but she also remembered what it had been like at Kaja’s age. “Fine,” she said, crossing her arms and sitting down hard. After that, no one said anything.
Eventually the noise inside the bedroom stopped. The door creaked open and Kaja peered out of the darkness. “I didn’t know where you were,” she accused curtly. “I kept asking but no one could understand me and I couldn’t understand them and I didn’t know how to get here.”
“Tordom was supposed to bring you—” Jo immediately knew that she said the wrong thing. Kaja’s lips pursed into a thin line and she looked like she was about to cry again. Not being able to find her way to the Blue Shield barracks was not the reason she was so upset. Jo softened her tone. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Kaja lowered her gaze.
Amale rose to his feet. “Fresh air,” he said.
“Now?” Leif quirked an eyebrow. Amale kicked his shin under the table. “Ohh,” he said. “Alright! Fancy elf, you too. Time for a little boy’s night.”
Once the three of them left, Kaja opened the bedroom door completely and took a seat across from Jo. She stared at her lap and picked at the hem of her skirts.
“I hurt Tordom,” she whispered. Between the surprising words and the volume she said them, Jo thought that she misheard. But then Kaja continued, “I hurt Tordom and the cubs hate me and Barzom will be mad at me. What if I make the ferix hate Dimitri? What if he can’t save everyone anymore because of me?”
Jo reached across the table and held Kaja’s hand. “That’s not going to happen,” she said reassuringly. “Did you hurt Tordom on purpose?”
Kaja shook her head vehemently.
“Then it was an accident. Whatever happened can be fixed with an apology tomorrow.”
Kaja nodded, but it was unconvincing. “I’m going to bed,” she said, standing. She paused in the doorway and turned. Jo smiled and Kaja forced a small smile back. When the door shut, Jo’s face fell into a frown. This went beyond a spat between children. Dimitri’s diplomatic mission was a matter that shouldn’t involve Kaja, much less cause her anxiety.
Jo was worried that she had just seen more of Kaja’s childhood slip away.
*
*
The next morning, there was a knock on the front door. Each of the companions had slept poorly, so it was a very sullen-eyed Leif who finally answered. He was shocked to see Dimitri, hale and hearty, standing outside.
“I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” he said with a yawn. After all, the last time Leif had seen Dimitri was just yesterday, when he was hauled half-conscious into a medical tent.
“The ferix aren’t just geniuses with metal and wheels,” Dimitri said, stepping inside. “They’re capable surgeons too.” Amale’s ears perked up as he leaned around to get a better look. Dimitri tapped on his chest, where his broken rib had been. “I’ve got a plate and a few bolts of ferix metal holding it together now. Going to be a bit of a shock for the next Irkallu agent who tries to stab me, heh?” he said with a laugh.
Leif didn’t laugh. A Volgarian now had steel in his chest, and Leif did not. The gods were so unfair.
Dimitri took the silence as an invitation to continue. “Which brings me to our business for today. Vyrkad Gleamgear is waiting for us,” he said. “I know you’ve had a difficult journey, but I need some of you to come with me. I don’t want to show up there flanked by nothing but Imperial legionnaires.” He jerked a thumb over to where Tullius and Leo were waiting in the street with their ferix escort. “I’m sure you know how that’d look.”
“We’ll go,” Jo said. She cast a hesitant glance at the one bedroom door that remained shut, and lowered her voice. “Kaja had a problem with the cubs last night. She’s not gonna want to come.”
Dimitri reasoned that Kaja probably wouldn’t contribute much to the negotiations, so he didn’t see the harm in leaving her behind. Jo peeked in to make sure she was okay, and they headed out.
After experiencing the rugged efficiency of ferix life, Sakrattars didn’t expect to be received in a lavish palace full of pomp and gold. But he did expect to meet Vyrkad in some kind of war room or office or even a personal tent—and definitely not on one of the many humble training fields between the walls.
As the escort led them across just such a field, mossy gravel crunched beneath their boots. On the farside of the field, along the outer edge of a curtain wall, dirt had been piled high to make thick embankments. They reminded Sakrattars of the earthwork fortifications in the old histories describing Imperial conquests in Balthissica and Datharia. Why these mounds would be on the inside of the wall, however, he could not say. Ferix soldiers sparred in the open, kicking up rocks and clods of frozen mud as they pushed shield-against-shield or wrestled bodily.
“Reminds me of home,” Tullius said. “No matter where you go, training fields are the same.” He took a deep breath of the chilly air, laced with the scent of sweat and weapon polish. Sakrattars was somewhat skeptical of the captain’s comment but he kept it to himself; he was busy keeping a lookout for Vyrkad. He didn’t know what he looked like, but he figured he’d be the biggest, toughest ferix in the fanciest armor.
The escort brought them to a line of wheeled contraptions covered by frosty canvas. Several workers in soot-streaked aprons were polishing the wheels or on their backs in the mud, twisting wrenches and pounding mallets. None of them looked particularly lordly.
“Vyrkad, I’ve brought the outsiders,” the escort said.
One of the workers, of average build and with a torn left ear, looked up. He stood, wiped his paws on the canvas, and shook the grime out of his black and gray fur. After looking the companions up and down, he gave a nod to dismiss the escort. The soldier seemed happy to leave.
“My scout, Barzom, tells me you wanted to talk?” Vyrkad said, looking between each of them in turn. Jo was the only one who could look him in the eye, the others had to crane their necks.
“Yes. . . uh. . . your lordship,” Dimitri said, erring on the side of cautious politeness. Vyrkad rolled his eyes but said nothing. “My name is Dimitri Vasiliyev. These are my companions,” he said with a brief introduction for each. “We’ve come on behalf of Emperor Caius Balthus Aurelia of Aurea, seeking an alliance with the Free Ferix Legions.”
“Yeah?”
Dimitri waited, expecting Vyrkad to continue, but the old ferix just looked at him dispassionately. “Yes,” Dimitri said, hoping he hadn’t lost all momentum. “I know your people are suffering out here. Mine are suffering back home. We both face formidable enemies, and I believe we can help each other.”
“Oh good,” Vyrkad said acidly. “So an Imperial legion is almost here to kill Ironfang and rebuild our villages?”
“Well, no,” Dimitri replied, “but we can have one sent here to assist you if you and I can come to terms. We’re prepared to offer your people sanctuary within our borders. There are territories in Datharia, or even Taracosia, where you could settle down. You could build farms, start communities. I can arrange it all.”
Sakrattars chewed his lip. He didn’t need divination magic to know that what Dimitri was offering would be incredibly hard to sell to the Imperial nobles lording over those provinces. He couldn’t imagine a world where Dimitri had received clearance to use their land as a bargaining chip.
Vyrkad, for his part, seemed to be thinking the same thing. “Right. I’m sure that would go very smoothly,” he said, scratching his chin idly. “Now’s the part where you tell me what you want in exchange.”
A sudden crackle of sharp reports startled the companions, but Vyrkad and the other ferix remained unmoved. Nearby, a line of gunners repositioned their smoking rifles, while another inspected the newly gouged craters in the earthen ramparts. The party had traveled with Khez and her rifle for several days across the steppeland, but the idea of guns and gunshots still alarmed them.
“Weapons,” Dimitri said, watching one gunner reload the breech of his rifle. “Your weapons technology is far ahead of ours, and the Empire is in dire straits. We need every edge we can possibly get.”
Vyrkad chuffed. “Got it. We get farms. You get weapons. You use our weapons to take back our farms.” Dimitri could smell the black powder residue clinging to Vyrkad’s fur as he leaned in close. “I’ve taken more than one orc sword to the head,” Vrykad said, “but not enough to get fooled so easily.”
Dimitri clenched his jaw, grasping for ways to salvage the situation. “Your lord—uh, Vyrkad,” he said quickly. “Your people are strong. I saw the forges running, I saw the mines working, I saw your youth learning your arts to carry them forward to the next generation. Ironfang is in for the fight of his life if he attacks you here.” He paused and smiled derisively. “But the strongest warrior can still starve. You and your people deserve better than that, and here I am, offering it. Outright refusal is foolish. I thought better of you than that.”
A tingle surged down Sakrattars’ spine. The last thing they needed was to have the leader of the Free Ferix out for their blood. He glanced at Leif who, while impressed by Dimitri’s gall, had lowered his hand to rest on the head of his axe.
Vyrkad wasn’t fazed, but nor was he angry. “You do have a point,” he admitted coolly.
“Does this mean you’ll consider the alliance?” Dimitri asked.
Vyrkad chuffed again but his expression remained grim. “The Empire is no friend of ours, but all of our other friends are dead,” he said. “I suppose we have no choice.”
“Is that a ‘yes’?”
“With conditions.” Vrykad waved his paw dismissively. “You have your wants and we have ours.”
Dimitri shifted his weight, hoping his anxiety didn’t show. “Conditions?”
Vyrkad nodded. “The Free Ferix are exhausted and our supplies dwindle. There’s a good chance that by the time your Emperor rallies his legion, those bloodfly maggots out there”—he gestured vaguely towards the southern gate—“will have worn us down, with or without Ironfang’s main army. Put simply, we need help now.”
“And what can we do now?” Dimitri asked, taking quick stock of his surviving companions. Of the fifteen who left Datharia, only eight were still alive and most of them were wounded in some capacity. He didn’t imagine there was much they could help with.
Vyrkad grumbled. “I understand you have a. . . wizard in your ranks.”
Sakrattars, not expecting to be involved in the discussion at all, was taken completely off guard. He straightened up and smoothed out his robes. “I am,” he said, feeling a nervous jitter when Vyrkad turned his feline-gaze on him.
“There’s a magic user, a human, living in the mountains near one of our remote mines. We don’t know where he came from, but if he’s one of yours we would appreciate his help while we wait for word from Aurea.”
Sakrattars’ eyes went wide. “You. . . want me to go speak with him?” Immediately all kinds of possibilities started playing out in his mind. Was this “magic user” a professor from the Academia Arcana on a research expedition? Or perhaps he was a rogue wizard—a lone wolf conducting illicit experiments out of the Empire’s reach? It could be dangerous, but Vyrkad had asked him specifically to carry out this important task and his pride would take a hit if he turned it down. “I will try,” he said.
Dimitri sighed with relief. “We’ll leave as soon as we’re able—”
Vyrkad raised a paw to stop him. “There is a second task. One of our outer garrisons was overrun days ago. They had three cannons, which are now certainly in the orcs’ filthy hands. I want a few of you to go with Barzom and disable them.” As if sensing their questions, Vyrkad pulled the canvas cover off of the object he had been working on, revealing a giant wheeled rifle. Like the handheld rifle, it utilized explosive powder but unlike the rifle, it fired balls of metal the size of Jo’s fist. A pile of them were stacked nearby—cast from the same formidable metal as Forgeheart itself. Vyrkad patted the cannon lovingly. “A shot from this could shatter a dragon’s breastbone,” he said. “We can’t risk those curs figuring out how to fire them.”
“Why not send a team of ferix?” Dimitri asked.
“Humans are smaller, harder to see,” Vyrkad said. “And you wanted to know how you could help us. Well, this is it.”
Dimitri looked to the others for input.
“If small is what you’re looking for, then I should go with the elf,” Jo said. “Kaja will too.” She did her best to ignore the shocked look Sakrattars was giving her, but her reasoning was really quite simple: some of Ironfang’s forces knew who Kaja was and Jo didn’t want her anywhere near the front lines because of it. The mountains were dangerous, but they were familiar, and Jo felt confident she could adequately protect Kaja out there. Besides, she had seen Sakrattars’ “survival skills” and knew that the pampered city elf would be helpless in the wilderness without them.
“Then I’d like to request Leif and Amale come with me and Barzom,” Dimitri said. “Their experience in Balthissica could prove useful.”
Leif looked at him strangely. “I suppose. . .” he said.
Of course, Dimitri couldn't voice his true line of thinking. He knew that Jo wouldn’t hesitate to take Kaja and leave him, the Ordo Draconis, and the Free Ferix behind. But he was less certain that she would leave Leif and Amale. He couldn’t risk losing Kaja, not when the stakes were so great.
“We'll come as well,” Tullius said. Leo nodded.
“No,” Vyrkad said. “I want the legionnaires to stay here. Call it insurance.” Dimitri couldn’t fault Vyrkad for his caution. The Empire had a history of overpromising and under-delivering, as several of its former territories could attest. And wasn’t Dimitri using Leif and Amale for the same purpose? He could hardly point fingers. He was just grateful that Vyrkad was open to the proposal at all.
“We’ll take care of it then. Do we have a deal?” Dimitri said, extending his hand.
Vyrkad looked down at the hand as if Dimitri were handing him an insect. “Yes,” he said. Then he slid back under the cannon and picked up where he left off.
Technically the negotiation had been a success, but as Dimitri left the training field it certainly didn’t feel that way. He rubbed his chest, relieving the dull ache from the recent surgery, and mulled over his new mission.
The metal rib would be tested sooner than he thought.
*
*
Kaja peeked out the window and watched the ferix below come and go on their daily tasks. There wasn’t any food in the apartment but she also didn’t want to leave. Luckily, she managed to catch a large bug before it could scurry under the floorboards so she was doing alright for now.
Before long, she spotted a group of familiar faces coming down the street and her eyes went wide. It was Tordom and a few of the cubs from the play yard. What were they doing here? Kaja dashed away from the window, not sure if she should hide, or sneak out the back, or try to scare them off again. She was still deliberating when a knock came at the door. She stared, not moving. Tordom knocked again. When there was still no answer, he called through the wood. “Kaja? Are you there?”
“No!”
“Please, I just want to talk.”
Seeing that he wasn’t going to go away, she slipped on her cloak and opened the door a tiny crack.
Tordom leaned down so they could be eye-to-eye. “Hey, Kaja. . . um, can we come in?”
Kaja shook her head.
“Oh, well. . . okay,” he said, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For calling you. . . that,” he said, clasping his paws behind his back and looking down at his feet. “It was a really bad, mean thing to say and I’m sorry. Uh, again.”
Kaja blinked, not quite sure how to respond.
“If it’s okay, can we all be friends again?” he asked. The other cubs nodded along.
Guilt and shame and fear still swirled around in her stomach but it didn’t feel right to reject Tordom when he went out of his way to come see her. “I’m sorry too,” she said, remembering Jo’s words from the night before. “I was scared and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I know,” Tordom said. “So, friends?”
Kaja nodded and the cubs brightened, purrs rumbling in their throats.
“So, um, do you wanna come out to play?” Tordom ventured. “You can pick the game—we won’t play Shieldwall this time,” he added with a toothy grin. The other cubs giggled.
The door creaked open all the way and Kaja joined them outside. “Okay,” she said with a shy smile. She still felt bad but it was better than the way she had been feeling.
“Yeah!” Tordom cheered. “Let’s go!”
As the children jogged down the street together, they zipped past the companions returning from their meeting with Vyrkad. Kaja gave Jo a little wave before vanishing around a corner.
Dimitri laughed. “Maybe I should have brought her to Vyrkad after all,” he said. “She’s better at making friends than I am.”