Revin made his way to the Healing House, Blackfire jogging with him. Blackfire’s excellent night vision helped them navigate the darkness, avoiding roads and the sparse streetlamps. The monks rarely went out at night, but he wanted to avoid any annoying questioners.

The Healing House was barely half the size of the Holy House. It was constructed from white painted cedar, smooth without a harsh edge. The facade of the building was covered with intricately carved flowering plants, gliding birds, and other scenes designed to calm those who came.

Its front entrance was still watched by two monks.

Revin had expected this, smiling and strolling past. They eyed him with suspicion. He continued walking down the road until it bent around the Healing House, concealing him from view. He bent down and released Sprik from where she’d sat in his pocket. She skittered up the wall of the Healing House and into an open window.

After checking seven rooms, Sprik finally found Ismander in the eighth. Revin commanded Sprik to head back outside as he made his way to that room’s window. Locks were rare in the Hiriv, and Revin carefully snuck up, and pulled it open, first checking behind him for any witnesses.

And turned back to face a contraption with a short metal pipe in his face.

His eyes widened. He stepped back, remembering the sound of thunder and the puff of smoke.

Ismander let out a sigh of relief. “Now why, young monk, would you be sneaking in through my window rather than knocking on my door?”

“I prefer to keep people on their toes,” Revin said.

Ismander let out a slight chuckle and motioned for him to come in.

She turned away from Revin, stuffing the contraption into her shoulder pack which was sitting on her hospital bed. Several items were laid out, each to be shuffled into the bag. “This is the peaceful Hiriv island, why would anyone here need to be on their toes?”

“We had a giant serpent attack a couple of weeks back,” Revin said, as he climbed in through the window.

“I heard about that,” Ismander said, “and of course, you were the one who tracked it down and sent it home?”

Revin smiled, “Yes.”

“The beasts of the outside world put that serpent to shame.”

“Your lizard wasn’t that big.”

“The beasts of the outside world put my cerato to shame,” she repeated with emphasis. Her countenance hardened, and she turned back to packing, a little more forcefully now.

Revin had a hard time imagining that. Surely, she was exaggerating? “I can master anything,” Revin said.

“So I’ve heard.” Ismander smiled. “Now, why are you here?”

“I want to come with you.”

Ismander chuckled. “You don’t even know where I’m going.”

“You’re going to Ateya, to stop Narazoth and Jebuthar from invading with their army of metal men.”

Ismander raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You were listening, weren’t you? Let me guess, a bird?”

“Gecko.”

“Close,” Ismander said. She frowned. “Your father wouldn’t approve. You heard him.”

“Oh, I heard him,” Revin said, “He said that he can’t send any monks, the revelation said nothing about volunteers going without being sent.”

Ismander looked at him, eyes narrowing. When Revin didn’t budge, Ismander let out a half-snort. “You sure know how to twist the words of a prophet.”

“He’s also my father,” Revin said. “We’ve been arguing doctrine for years.”

“And how does that go for you?”

“Usually? Poorly.”

“But still, he is the prophet,” Ismander said. She let out a breath and shook her head. “You don’t know what you’d be getting into.”

“I’ve mastered serpents, wolves, a badger. I think I can handle it.” Revin tried to exude as much confidence as he could.

Ismander suddenly got a very serious look on her face.

“I’ll tell you why, Revin the great Beastspeaker. You’ve only seen the aftermath of one human death, the monk killed by the serpent, yes?”

Revin nodded with a frown.

“That’s a start. And you witnessed Tungol’s death. You even felt it. I’m sorry for that. I was… out of control.”

The image of the giant lizard’s bleeding corpse filled Revin’s mind. The overwhelming wave of pain flowing over him.

“But,” Ismander said, pulling Revin out of his remembrance, her lips stretched into a thin line, “you’ve never seen the look on a man’s face when he’s gutted with a spear. You’ve never felt the horror of seeing a human corpse before you, knowing that you caused their death. You’ve never seen the pain of a sword or musket-wound, flesh torn, bones shattered, the agony before death finally comes as a sweet release.”

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Ismander’s hands tightened into trembling fists, her frown deepening. Revin had read of war before from a historical level, but not a personal one.

Ismander leaned in, her eyes narrowed in concentration. “And Jebuthar’s army? Even worse. Their guns rip through flesh, their weapons flatten their enemies to the earth. Even… even the strong fall and are trampled before him. Have you even seen the remnants of a man’s head once he’s been crushed by a great weight? Brains, blood and broken bone scattered over the earth?”

Revin felt a bit of bile rise in his throat. The worst he’d seen was the leftovers from Blackfire’s hunts. And those had mostly been small game.

“Putting aside the horrors of war, the beasts of the east are no small task to tame. Some have necks that reach twice the height of the prophet’s tower, others have scales as strong as stone, teeth sharp as fine steel, minds made to hunt and maim. Do you think those will be easy to master? That this will just be some grand vacation to satisfy your wanderlust?”

She looked at him, eyes critical, calculating, weighing his reaction.

What was his reaction? His throat burned with bile; his stomach twisted. A world of death and monsters. The stuff of nightmares. For a moment, he doubted he could make it out there. That it really was just a vacation.

But then he remembered Tungol’s lifeless corpse, the funeral of Werig, the rush of pain from Ismander’s telepathic burst. The emptiness that comes from having that which you love ripped away.

Revin slowly shook his head. “No,” he said, forcing it out, “This isn’t a vacation. Yes, I’ve been stuck on this island too long. I’ve explored everything, mastered almost every beast there is to master here. But this is about what’s right. If what you say is true, then Narazoth won’t take no for an answer, and my father will never give in. Those metal men… if they come back, then monks will die. My father wants to do nothing, and I… I can’t. I did see Werig’s body after the serpent crushed him. I did see… and feel, your lizard’s death. I’ve spent too long looking for something important to do. Some way that I can make a difference. I’m terrible at farming, I can’t stand sheep, and I suck at carpentry. There’s nothing else for me here.”

Revin took a breath, calming his nerves. “I’ve always done what’s right, even when others disagree. I don’t want those metal men coming here again. They said I’m strong enough to withstand him. I have to stop him before he gets here, and that means going with you to Ateya and stopping him there.”

Revin set his lips into a thin line of determination. Standing a little taller.

A half second later, “Good, you can come.”

Revin blinked. “What? No argument?”

She smiled, “I was going to speak to you after I packed anyway.”

“So why let me go through all that?”

“Because I needed to be sure,” she said with a nod, “And so did you.”

Realization dawned. He was leaving. Getting on a boat, heading away. He’d dreamed of this for so long. He could master so much more. He grinned in anticipation.

“Gather your things, then get your father’s sword,” Ismander said.

“Sword?” Revin said, furrowing his brow.

“The one hanging in his office,” Ismander took a breath and sat on the edge of her bed.

“Why?” Revin said.

“We’ll need it. A friend told me it may have something to do with Jebuthar’s weapons. Can you get around in the dark?”

Revin nodded, “Blackfire—my wolf—has great night vision. We hike at night all the time.”

“Good, meet me at Peril’s Reef, just before sunrise.”

“I’m always packed,” Revin said, smiling.

“Then get that sword without getting caught.”

“And what are we going to do, once we get there?”

Ismander nodded, acknowledging his question. “We need to find Beadoróf, another monk, very familiar with Narazoth and Kerdun in the north. He’ll know what to do. And likely High General Omrai Speartip. He controls the armies of Ateya, and apparently one of the greatest men in this world. The Volisnans respected him greatly.”

She looked said once again, and Revin chose not to pursue the line of inquiry further. He nodded and turned to leave.

“Oh, and,” Ismander said, causing Revin to turn back, “make sure you bring enough tea powder to last you many years.”

“Why?”

“You’re going to need it.”

✦✦✦

After stealing the sword and gathering his things, Revin hiked several hours to Peril’s Reef. He felt familiar butterflies in his stomach as he and Blackfire waited on the quiet shore. Unlike the western coast, this beach was pretty much all sand, the ebb and flow of the tides soft as the breeze.

The red light of pre-dawn broke out across the wide ocean. If Ismander didn’t arrive soon, Revin would need to perform his Day Blessing and morning meditation here. Revin patted his satchel to triple-check he had his books.

He looked at the strange boat moored in the water, a chain hanging off its side. How had the metal men arrived? Revin had mostly seen tiny fishing skiffs, but this boat was as big as at least five of those.

As Revin dropped his things and prepared to offer the Day Blessing, Ismander stepped out of the trees. Revin stood from his kneeling position. She smiled, holding a large pack over her shoulder.

Ismander laughed. “You got the sword?”

Revin pointed to the sword sitting next to his pack. Ismander nodded.

Ismander walked past him and toward the boat. She stepped into the water and tossed her bag in. “The more we delay the greater danger they will be in.” She turned back to Revin. “Are you ready?”

Revin looked away from Ismander to the trees. He felt a sudden pang of guilt. He wished he could see his parents, and they were too far now for mindspeaking. His mother probably wondered why he wasn’t at morning meal. His father would figure out what had happened soon enough. He had a way of knowing things he shouldn’t.

“Revin!” Ismander shouted.

Revin turned around, Ismander was already in the boat, working with the single-mast sail.

“Are you ready?” Ismander said.

Revin took a step to the boat, then hesitated. His heart pounded, Blackfire eyed him with concern. He glanced back to the trees.

“Revin,” she said. “Your father won’t send anyone. We’re their only chance.” Ismander looked to the trees as well. “This sleepy island doesn’t know the danger.” She looked back at Revin. “Narazoth and Jebuthar will kill any who won’t join them.”

An image flashed through his mind, Tungol, impaled on a spear, blood rushing like a waterfall. What would happen to the monks if he didn’t stop Narazoth?

Revin nodded and turned to Blackfire. “At least I’ll have you with me.” He reached down to scratch Blackfire’s ears, and the wolf nuzzled his hand affectionately. Revin took a deep breath and turned back to Ismander. “Alright,” he said, “let’s go.”

Revin stepped into the cold water and climbed onto the boat, Blackfire close behind. Ismander motioned to a seat that was several feet behind a large wheel in the center. Ismander grabbed the wheel and pulled a lever. Revin heard a loud click and jumped as the sails sprouted from the mast above. The wind filled them, and the boat slowly moved out to the ocean.

Revin’s heart jumped. He was really leaving.

Ismander wrestled the large wheel, turning it back and forth. “They say that if you look back at a place as you leave it, you leave your heart there.”

Revin furrowed his brow.

Ismander looked at Revin. “Revin, look back.”

He did. The island loomed large, its verdant hills and mountains visible through the faint morning mist. He knew those mountains, probably better than his own village. Months, years spent hiking, mastering beasts. Watching the morning sun push back the mists, leaving behind the scent of morning dew.

“Leave your heart. This might be the last time you see home.” Her words bespoke a deep regret.

They didn’t speak for a long time. The beautiful island, a place he’d explored, a place he’d lived his entire life, shrank and shrank until they were surrounded only by a vast plane of water. He scratched Blackfire behind the ear, glad to have brought at least one friend with him.