The thrashing machine's predatory claws spewed sounds of destruction as it effortlessly munched the wheat thrown into its open maw. Under the workstation's towering roof, the summer heat was becoming unbearable, and laborers were being forced to work in nothing but their brown pants, worn from years of abuse.

Jaris cleaned his brow for the fifth time in that many minutes, the now-drenched handkerchief feeling like a slimy snake in his hand. The first few days he had decided to stay in his formal overseer wear, but by the fourth day, when he had to be carried home by the workers in a state of semi-consciousness, he decided to dump any formality and embrace common sense.

The floor was a continuous movement of men and wheelbarrows carrying the harvested stocks. The ground was covered with crushed seeds and chaff, trodden by dozens of hurried feet. Jaris moved his eyes from the machine to the workers, then back again, all the while trying to take down notes. He had given up trying to maintain the strict magisterial discipline by his second week. Now three weeks into his new job, he realized that here, things got done naturally. At least most of the time.

"Get those bags tied up, I want them ready for shipment," shouted Jaris, trying to cover the sounds around him.

"It's the belts, Juth!" came shouts from all around the machine. "Damn things need to be changed."

"I know that! Look, just make do with what you have now!"

Their grumble vanished into the sounds of the station, severed into shards. Jaris had gotten used to hearing the word. And the fact that he had nearly gotten into a fistfight the first time he heard it still amused him. The mistoan language was as diverse as the mixture of races that made up the population, and the word had a natural sound that made him embrace it. It simply meant overseer. But it was so close to his name, he felt a little discomfort in his usage. Most of the settlers preferred to keep to themselves, but Jaris felt his barriers collapsing. The very place felt welcoming, giving a strong sensation of belonging. The home was behind, and the world ahead of him seemed to spread into a multi-layer canvas.

The sounds of the thrashing machine waxed and waned, but their screech remained constant. Jaris jotted down another hundred-pound bag and was prepared to shout a break in the work, only to be stopped by a new and frightening mixture of sounds.

First came something that resembled a mixture of a screech and the sound of a wounded animal, only to be drowned out by the shouts of men dropping their loads and rushing to the side of the machine. With a movement that was more instinctual than planned, Jaris dropped the sheet and pencil, rushing to the device. The gears and belts had all but stopped moving, the source laying spread on the floor.

The boy seemed no more than sixteen or seventeen. At least he assumed since there wasn't an age minimum for work. His chest heaved and sank with the desperation of death, eyes looking upwards into a stare that seemed to pierce the metal roof. His left arm, or what was left of it, stood jammed between the gears and belts, the flesh twisted into a red mash.

The world seemed to sink into oblivion for Jaris. The shouts and pleas of the men around him echoed in his eardrums, crashing like waves against a pier. Bile left its bitter taste in his mouth, forcing the mind to kick in to prevent him from throwing up.

"Jam those gears, damn it!"

His voice felt not his own. Men around him ran to the controls, trying to shut the machine down, while another brought him an iron bar, used to open crates. With one thrust, Jaris stuck it between the two main gears, causing the mechanism to slow, but not stop. At the controls, the men had managed to stop the power supply by tearing out the singular farik that powered the machine with energy.

The boy's body remained limp, his shredded arm raised in a hideous salute towards the skies, his breath being the only thing that still gave him a semblance of life.

"I need a length of rope and something to cut...and fire! Torch, lamp, anything will do!"

There was no way to salvage the arm, Jaris knew that. As several men ran to get what he ordered, he knelled and held the boy's head on his lap. Their eyes met, one filled with the hope of not killing someone, while the other with the terror of the unknown.

"What's your name?"

"T..Teg..ly..."

"Tegly. I need you to listen to me close. Help's on its way. Just...do what I tell you. Is your dad working here as well?"

"Y..s...not...re to...day...

His voice was slowly becoming incoherent, white saliva forming between his lips. The men he had sent out came back, dropping on the floor a short handle axe, and rope, while the other carried a lit oil lamp.

"Hold him down!"

"You mad, Juth?! You ain' no healer!"

"Neither are you! Now, unless you want him to die here, you'll do what I tell you!"

With shaky hands, Jaris tied the rope firmly above the elbow, then stood up, holding the axe. One of the men held the victim by the legs, while the other held his arms and covered his eyes. Feeling his legs wobbly, Jaris let his eyes wonder at the remains of the arm, then back at the collapsed boy. His mind raced against his emotions, trying to find any rationale to act. His vision narrowed, becoming only one thing: the arm.

The first swing left no recollection in his mind. He only saw his arm coming down, followed by the bloodied axe head. Tegly's body convulsed, but his scream didn't reach his ears. The second stroke of the axe severed the arm, spraying the gears and Jaris' shirt with blood. Dropping the axe, Jaris fell to his knees, both in exhaustion and need. He untied the rope and wanted to reach for the lamp. Only to realize his stupidity. Lighting a fire while surrounded by the remains of the harvest. Reaching for a piece of bag cloth, he wrapped it around the stump, tying it back with the same rope.

"That's...enough...get him to the healers."

Jaris felt his body give way, as he rested his back against the thrasher. He would live. That's all that mattered. He would live. Closing his eyes, he took the first satisfying breath in however time had passed. But when he looked around him, he saw that the men hadn't moved.

"What are you looking at? Get him to a healer!"

"But Juth, the closest one's near Kaum."

The man's voice sounded pitiful, but Jaris could sense something else mixed among the words. The tone of someone who had reached the final steps of the gallows and had nothing else to look forward to but a speedy end.

"What do you mean? There's a healing ward at the colony!"

"That's not for us."

The words made no sense. The ward was opened. He had been there at least once when he collapsed because of the heat. Yet the men around him did not attempt to take the boy there. The world he knew flashed before him once more, then bid a final farewell. Grim sobriety took its place, forcing Jaris to understand how things stood. He looked at the bloody cloth and felt his throat choked.

"Light above..."

"Juth, we're not allowed to take him there. We can take care of it ourselves..."

"He's going to die, damn it! I don't care about any rules right now," yelled Jaris in tears. "Get him there! If the payment's an issue, tell them I'll pay whatever they need!"

Faces shining with sweat and fear filled his vision. The shock was quickly replaced by rushed shouts and hurried footsteps, the boy being carried out in the arms of a worker. The sounds of action and movement became dimmer, as Jaris felt his knees bend, then his back mercifully felt the dry sharpness of chaff that softened the impact of his body. He remained motionless, not wanting to feel anything. Yet he did. Emptiness, both inside and out.

*** ***

"I...couldn't...do more."

Jaris could only find the courage to look at the open window. From their second-story bedroom window, the monotony of the vast harvest fields was replaced by a much-welcomed pine forest. Five miles from their homestead, a narrow stream split the fields from the trees. His lungs enjoyed the coolness of the indoor air, freshened by the occasional breeze.

Ajutine placed a glass of lethian juice on the nightstand, then sat next to her husband. With shaky fingers, Jaris picked up the glass, took a small sip, but didn't bother setting the glass back down. The woman's slim fingers touched his knee, and for a brief second, the very thought of being touched by a hand repulsed him.

"You saved his life."

"We'll know that tomorrow. When they finally took him..."

His words wandered on their own, following paths that hadn't been walked. They ran from the memories that were coming back, demanding the right to his attention. Ajutine opted to remain silent, her mind trying to piece the event from the scattered remnants her husband had shared with her. There was little that could remove the shock. Looking at the serene image beyond the window, she felt her world upended again.

"Jay, you had nothing to do with this!" she whispered.

Still keeping his eyes on the glass, Jaris sank under the weight of his shoulders. That's not for us. Simple and to the point, but with the force of a cudgel that split his thoughts from the rest of himself. He understood Magisterial policies. But here, they weren't mere abstract concepts. They had formed.

The form of a lad that lay bleeding on the floor.

"I didn't. Yes, just read my commission papers. All I need to do is to ensure the crops get harvested, that the locals know their place that he was bleeding on the floor and nobody was doing anything to take him to a healer because it's not for them and looking at him like he was already dead and..."

His voice continued until the lack of oxygen forced him to pause. The glass remained in his hand, and while he felt the urge to break it, there was no point. Why waste money getting a new one? He placed it in the safety of the nightstand, then collapsed unceremoniously on the bed. For a brief moment, his throat convulsed, the sweet taste of the syrup mixing with his saliva, threatening to choke his lungs.

He felt Ajutine's hands on his chest, and the fleeting ship that was his mind found its anchor again. She stood in the storm, and her fingers were the pillars that moored his hull to safe stability. Hands moved to touch hers, pressing gently, fingers intertwining. Eyes moved to the glass again, a desire to smash mixing with arousal. He felt his fingers dirty, and the thoughts that mixed in his mind made him feel dirtier. And on top of that, the deluge of shame seemed to drown all else.

"Jay, let it go. It's not your battle to fight."

"It would have been if we were in that position." he spat unconsciously. "But you're right, how can it be? We'll never be in that situation!"

The words struck his mind with the force of a hammer. He knew what he meant to say, and at that point, wanted to tear out his own throat. Shaken by a tremor, he looked upwards, his stare meeting his wife's green eyes. She understood, how couldn't she? And the soft smile that came back was more painful than any slap or punch that the woman could have given him. Soft fingers caressed his face, quickly being stained by the free-flowing tears that left the man's eyes.

"Jay, I know I can't give you children. Please, just...don't destroy yourself for my shame."

Words no longer had any meaning. At least, none that Jaris was interested in hearing. He remained in the same position, drifting out of pain and reality by the fingers that continued to caress his face. There he was, and there he would remain. His life remained his own. And so did his darkness.

*** ***

The sun had well gone past the middle horizon by the time Jaris found the needed energy to get out of bed. His movements felt stricken by paralysis, each clasping of a button or pulling off a sleeve requiring more energy than he had available. After five agonizing minutes, he managed to put on his formal uniform and decided to go downstairs.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"Going out?" called Ajutine from the kitchen.

"Have to. I want to make sure that the boy is still being taken care of. Don't know if I'll be home for dinner."

He opened the door and stepped out into the more tolerable afternoon sun. The heat only added to his already existing state of exhaustion, but the stroll had the desired effect of getting his body back into motion. The Distrian colony's thick walls were visible from the moment he left his yard. Built at a fairly close half a mile distance from the main settlement, it had multiple homesteads built between the two, along a cobblestone lane, wide enough to allow a dashlong to pass.

As he approached, Jaris noticed that a sizable group had assembled by the eastern gate. Mostly mistoan men, several of whom he recognized from his work team. There were also several women, wearing their colorful dresses and headscarves, their black hair tied in multiple braids. Voices were loud and many looked worried. Looking through the crowd, Jaris noticed a stubby bald man, wearing a healer's garb, talking to a towering giant that looked strong enough to split an ox in half. What truly worried Jaris, however, were a dozen militias that stood at attention only a few feet away.

"You can't do this!" shouted the man, covering all the background noises. "You throw him out now and he died!"

"Look Idi, I've done what I could. We've stopped the bleeding and sealed the wound."

"And the rest? He was burning up, the last time I saw him. You send him home now, and he won't even last the night!"

"As I said, that's all I can do. If you want more, go over by the office and they'll tell you the amount."

The eruption of sound was deafening, and Jaris felt several elbows shoving him, as the group advanced toward the officials. Words that he didn't understand flew all around, but he didn't need to be a linguist to understand their threatening nature. Fueled by the imminence of danger, he tried to work himself out of the crowd, but to no avail. He was slowly being pushed forward, not knowing if it was intentional or not. From where he stood, the fingers on the triggers of the repeating crossbows could be seen.

"Did you bring them here?"

It took him a moment to realize whom he was speaking to. With his body pressed from all sides, Jaris could do nothing but look at the healer's face. An unseen vice kept them motionless, their jaws clenched.

"No. But you can do something about that!"

Jaris slowly wiggled his way out of the crowd, nearly falling on his face on the dusty ground. He felt an iron grip on his wrist, and his feet found at last their stability. The tall man gave him a soft nod, both men looking straight at the healer.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Jaris. This man's son works on my team. I understand you're responsible for his wellbeing."

What should have been a burst of laughter was caught in time. The man's eyes narrowed, looking at Jaris with unbelief mixed with rage.

"I'm responsible for the health of people."

"All people? Or just some of them. Because I think a youth with a severed limb certainly qualifies."

"In charge of the health of our people." continued the healer, this time in a much lower voice.

Jaris' clenched fists were sufficient for the man to take a few steps back. Both men remained where they stood, their jagged breaths covered by the murmur from the group around them.

"You know how this goes, Jaris. Sophtian doesn't grow on trees. I can probably spare some, to get the fever down, but anything beyond that will have to come from his pockets."

"Where'd you think any of us can get that much, huh?" snapped Idi. "Your bankin' guild barely pays us on time, and the rest gets taken on taxes and other...stuff. Do you think I wouldn't give to save my lad? Where do you want me to get it from?"

"Get a loan. Sell something. How in the depths should I know? I've done my part. Now take your...mob and leave. There are wholesome people inside who would like to rest for the afternoon."

"You ain't done nothin' but to throw water on a log! Now get back in there and..."

"And what?! I'm not your servant. You want him so bad, you deal with it!"

"His blood's on your hands! You...ubica!"

The word was picked up by more and more people, who were now only feet away from the gate. The healer raised his hand in a pacifying gesture, his eyes desperately looking for any way to leave the semicircle of anger. The troops behind him weren't army regulars, much less Magisterial Enforcers. They did have, however the natural soldierly instinct to destroy any perceived threat.

A dozen weapons rose in unison, spread out like a fan. Time felt like melted wax, as Jaris stared at the steel tips pointed at him and the crowd. Voices died down, as the group began to slowly back down, leaving the three men who began it all in the eye of the storm. Idi retained his stance, looking every bit ready to die with his hands clenched around the healer's throat.

"Leave, or die where you stand!" hissed the healer.

"I'm not dying, and neither are they. If money's your problem, then I can pay for him. How much is a complete week again? Five separi, right? Here you go."

The coins landed unceremoniously on the cobble, there cling snapping Idi out of his anger. Hidden by his thick beard, the man's lips moved with words Jaris couldn't understand. The healer looked down at the payment, then back at the two men before him. He remained straight, eyes dripping with poison."

"I'll be back tomorrow. And if anything happens to Tegly, you better believe you'll be held responsible."

*** ***

"That was either brave or suicidal."

The noises of the tavern flooded around Jaris and the man on the other side of the table. The Fleasc was as important to the locals as was the constable’s office, or the mayor’s lounge. Most of the deals were done or arranged at the long tables, or in the more secluded areas around the windows.

"Somebody had to do it, Kalis. Light above, I've never seen such attitude."

The other man took a sip from his mug. In the aquatic light generated by the glowmoss aquariums hung around the walls, the striped suit of the Banking Guild stood out even among the colorful mistoan clothes.

"I trust that won't change your opinion of me."

"No, you're not to blame. Though that man did make a point. Salaries are a bit of a problem here."

"Only due to transport. The area hasn't been fully pacified yet. Most of our dashlongs require mercenary protection. If your people were to..."

"I'm not in the higher departments, Kalis, how do you expect me to know what power plays go on in there?"

"That would be the accurate word. The Banking Guild doesn't answer to the Magisterium, and we aim to keep it that way. That doesn't mean we don't want to work together. Is it so hard to figure that out?"

Jaris gave no reply. His department didn't deal with power grabs, but he had a vague understanding of what could be going on.

"I'm not the one you should be asking. I get that you people enjoy your freedom, but honestly, after today, I don't think I'm in any position to talk about politics."

Kalis nodded, and both men ordered another round, its sweet taste covering the terror of near death that had hovered over him only a few hours earlier.

"I take it that you didn't come here by choice?"

"Close. I received my notification only five days before being called to receive my assignment."

"And...you enjoy it here?"

"It's great. When I'm not seeing my men die on the job. Canolfan was never my home. I just lived there. Out here, this is where I belong."

"Planning to settle down permanently?"

"We'll see when my term expires. How about you? You've been here for over three years. I bet you've got some stories to tell."

Kalis felt something rub against his leg. Looking down, he saw an orange tabby rubbing against his leg. He gave him a quick stroke, then rested his elbows on the table.

"See him? I bet he's heard more stories than any of us. Taverns tend to do that. But as for me, yes, I've had my fair share of fireside tales. Mistoas have colorful imaginations. You could probably go on for days, just listening to them."

"Got any favorites?"

"Some of them, sure. Though they're too long to start telling them right now. Tell you what, come see me at the colony tomorrow. I've already finished this month's payments, so there's not much to do anyways. We can tell all the stories we want."

*** ***

The moon's crescent was hanging above them as they exited. Their steps measured the now mostly empty streets, the only people out being the night watch and some of the few stragglers who were on their way home from the inn, or wherever they still needed work.

"Want me to walk you home, Jaris? I think you've had too much."

"Only if I walk you. You don't look all that sober either."

Ten minutes later, the stone and wood houses of Pailt were behind them, with open country ahead. The colony's lights were visible in the distance. The two men strode at the same pace, the lights above them now the only source of illumination. Trees around them seemed ablaze in the unearthly Third Light's glow, and the sounds of nature made them feel at ease. Soft rustles came from around them, mixing with the sounds of insects and late-night birds.

"I can see why you like it here so much."

"It's the middle path." Explained Jaris in a raspy voice.

"The what?"

"Technology in the north, nature in the south. And us in the middle."

They passed a homestead flanked by an orchard and an enclosure where a dozen cattle were fast asleep, then Jaris felt his body tense. His eyes shifted right to left, carefully watching every shadow, trying to detect any movement that seemed out of the ordinary.

"What?"

The movement in the wheat field notified Kalis of the immediate danger. Three masked figures ran out, each armed with clubs. Their daggers were still hilted. One of them lunged at Jaris, barely missing. The man rolled to the ground, but the other two quickly shoved Kalis aside and ran to where Jaris had collapsed. Before the man had a chance to react, they kicked him in the sides. His mouth filled with dirt, and he felt his hands forced against his back. The distinct crunch of boots reached his ears, as the third man stood in front of him.

"Hold him up."

The other two lifted Jaris by the arms. His mind reeled from the shock, only to be struck by a new wave of pain, as the man's fists slammed into his abdomen, then ribcage. His ears were ringing, but he was sure he heard Kalis calling out for help. The homestead had lit its lamp, but nobody came out.

A patch of red stained the assailant's shirt, but Jaris was unaware of when he had coughed it. He tried to raise his eyes, only to be slapped on both cheeks.

"Well...juth...or whatever the half-breeds like to call you, this is a nice day for you. We can't kill you. But hey, at least you're going to get a nice tattoo."

The hooded man ripped his shirt, and through his half-closed eyes, Jaris saw him reaching for his dagger. With a fluid motion, he placed its tip on Jaris' chest, pressing ever so gently. A hiss of pain, followed by a gasp of breath. Jaris felt his legs giving way. Looking with pleading eyes, he hoped there was still enough common sense in the three men to stop what they were doing.

And stopped they did. Not out of mercy, but in reaction to the new sounds that seemed to come from all around them. The arms that held him let go, and he felt his body crash onto the road. The right side of his head felt moist, and he was pretty sure it was blood.

"Who's there!" called out one of the masked men, still holding his dagger. "This ain't any of your business!"

The other two had done the same, scouring the darkness. Jaris felt himself being raised, but the arms didn't cause him any pain. He saw Kalis, and while his whole world was spinning like a kaleidoscope, he felt relatively secure.

"Can you stand?"

"Barely. Get out of here, it's me they've got a bone to pick with!"

He got up on one knee. The attackers seemed to have lost interest, so they had a small chance to run. Problem was, his body was in no position to cover the distance. Around them, the sounds of nature had become frantic. The cattle made desperate sounds that were finally enough to get the residents to come out. The rustle of the wheat field slowly began to die down, and before Jaris realized what was happening, a dark figure leaped between him and his attackers.

A massive shape, easily ten feet tall covered their field of view. From his angle, it was impossible to make out too many details, other than its broad shoulders, and skinny arms. The three attackers' screams mixed with the creature's piercing screech, as it turned to face them. In one movement, it grabbed one of the men by the neck, smashing his skull against one of the threes that lined the road, then dispatched another by striking him with the weapon it carried, some kind of a cudgel. The lone survivor ran headlong into the men that were coming out of the homestead. He shoved them aside and ran into the open door, stumbling as he did.

The creature pivoted to face its new challengers. Crouching, it sprang like a hopper on inhuman bird-like legs, landing in front of them. One of the men, armed with a billhook, screamed in anger and terror, thrusting his weapon. It embedded itself into the shin of the creature, but before he could pull it out for another strike, the creature gave him a cudgel strike of such force that it buried him in the ground to the waist. The top part was simply no more.

Jaris willed his body to move but found no strength to even move his fingers. Unreal. Unreal, echoed his voice deep inside. But the torn bodies around him were very real. And with baby steps, reality crashed in his arms. It was real. Whatever it was he saw stood there. And he had little doubt that it would treat him differently that the other five victims.

Next to him, Kalis was in the same state of paralysis. From where they stood, running was out of the question. The creature was barely five meters ahead, and given its movements, it could overtake either of them. Looking at the ground, Jaris drew on what was left of his strength, and managed to get back up. Standing on shaky legs, with Kalis alone for support, he waited.

The creature didn't react to their movement, instead remaining focused on the homestead. It lowered the cudgel it held, then opened its mouth. In the next instance, both men were knocked down by a piercing sound that made their flesh tremble. It enveloped the homestead like a gale, tearing stone, wood, and flesh asunder in equal measure. Shaking on its foundation, the house collapsed to rubble, with the animals being skinned alive in a matter of moments, their lifeless chunks scattered across the field.

Jaris felt the ground shake and realized the creature was moving again. His ears still trembled, making the sounds around him as uncertain as the rest of his life. Rolling on his back, he tried in vain to see if Kalis was still there. Instead, all he found were the shifting shadows of a world that was determined to be rid of him.

The tremor edged ever closer, and Jaris' field of vision was filled with new darkness. Unclear as through a looking glass, but as it stepped into the double light, changed from mirage to reality. Cocking her hag's head, she looked with what appeared fascination. Jaris opened his mouth, gasping for air, and the creature bowed even lower. Her eyes, a dark pinkish color, seemed full of life, and in a moment of insane lucidity, Jaris realized that, in a different circumstance, he could have fallen in love with a woman who had such a gaze. Two massive bird feet, with talons large enough to impale a man flanked his body.

She lifted one of her chicken feet above the fallen man, talons ready to strike. Jaris looked up into the night sky. The Moon was out of sight, leaving only the Third Light, barely visible above him.

“Ajutine…” he cough. “Ajutine…”

He heard his voice in his mind, though no words were spoken. He had no strength left. The creature's foot came slowly down, and Jaris turned his face. He didn't want to see. All that he hoped is that it would be quick.

A flash of steel caught his gaze, and before either victim or executioner could react, the talon was parried aside, causing the creature to lose balance. It landed on its back with a frustrated screech, then got up, eyes searching for the source of the attack. Jaris groaned, rolled to one side, and managed to stand on his hands and knees. Through the haze, he made out a human shape, standing on the edge of one of the ruined homesteads. Ajutine… he thought, his mind at the same time laughing at the improbability. The figure made an impossible leap, landing between Jaris and the creature.

To his shock, he saw it was a girl. No older than sixteen or seventeen by her looks. Her auburn hair was tied in a single braid that reached her shoulder blades. Her body was covered in what he assumed was leather armor, dull grey. She wielded a spear of strange design, both the blade and shaft made of a metal that he couldn't identify. Without turning her head, she spoke a solitary word.

"Leave."