"Consider every variable!" Ismander struck Revin's blade aside then tapped his ribs. Revin regretted showing her his metal-weave mastersuit, as she'd forced him to wear it every time they sparred.

Revin still flinched at the impact. Ismander kicked him in the leg, knocking him to the ground. She swung her sword, stopping an inch from Revin’s neck.

“You’re getting better,” Ismander said with a smile.

“Better? You’ve beaten me every time! I swear I can barely hold this thing up after five minutes.”

Revin and Ismander had been travelling the frozen terrain for four days. The map, unfortunately, had been irretrievably lost. Ismander knew that Ateya lay to the south, and if they travelled straight in that direction, they would eventually find a road to a city.

They’d seen many small saurians. Feathered flying ones, ones that look like lanky chickens with teeth, even a few small four-legged ones with beaks and quills sprouting from their backs. Revin wanted to master each, but Ismander had ultimately convinced him that getting to civilization before their food ran out was far more important.

He’d hiked before, but never with books and a sword. The metal Sephitaron was the worst offender, its hard surface pressing on his back with every step. He tried rearranging it in his bag, but no matter what he did, the book’s weight dug into his shoulders, creating an ache that went up his neck. His hikes back on the Hiriv were casual, his pace slow. But here, everything was harsher, even the blade in his hands. No monks bore swords, and the woodsmen in the north used axes.

Revin stood and looked at the lines etched into his blade. “What a way to live.”

Ismander cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you take a sharp pierce of metal and try to poke your enemy to death. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

Ismander laughed. “It only feels odd because the Hiriv monks haven’t been in a war in centuries. Fighting just isn’t a part of our culture.”

“Maybe that’s why I’m no good at this,” Revin said, sitting down, “I’m not cut out for it.”

“No, you’re not good because you’ve been practicing for less than a week. It’s not like fighting is something in your blood, it’s something you learn, like any other skill. It’s something you use to protect what you hold most dear.”

Revin nodded, that’s why he was here. To protect his people when they wouldn’t protect themselves. He thought about Narazoth. “What is Narazoth fighting for?”

Ismander scowled. “Narazoth fights only for himself.”

Revin had tried to pry more information out of her about her past, but she had not been very forthcoming.

But now, she had been the one to bring it up.

“Ismander,” Revin said, “What happened, all those years ago?”

Ismander took a deep breath.

“If I’m going to fight him,” Revin said, “I have to understand him.”

Ismander frowned, then nodded. “Let’s just say Narazoth sought for more power than was his due. I, and a few others, defied him. Violently. The prophet, your father, didn’t approve. We left, partially to follow Narazoth, partially to keep our eyes open to other threats.”

“Well, that’s not a surprise,” Revin said with a frown.

Ismander gave Revin a reproachful look. “Your father is a good man. And I do believe Father God speaks to him.”

“Then why do you disobey him?” Revin said, confused.

“Because maybe I disagree with his interpretations,” Ismander said.

Branches cracked loudly. Revin jumped and looked in the direction of the noise. Blackfire ran to his side, and Revin didn’t know if he felt Blackfire’s fear or his own.

“Be ready,” Ismander said, sword pointed at the forest. Her stance straightened, grip tightening around her blade. Her eyes narrowed in concentration. Something was barreling through the trees, smashing branches in a rush. The sound grew louder.

Eight metal men jumped out of the trees. Each pointed one of those long tube things at Revin and Ismander. Gun, she called it a gun. Revin’s heart thundered harder. Ismander stared at one, unblinking. It stared back, face emotionless.

Blackfire growled.

Ismander and the metal man continued to stare. Revin gripped his sword. Ismander must have been mindspeaking with Narazoth. Ismander’s eyes widened and she turned to Revin.

“Get down!” Ismander yelled. Revin dropped just before the guns fired, giving off a low, cut-off whistle. Projectiles crashed into the trees behind him. He heard a grunt and looked up.

Ismander bled from her shoulder, her face contorted in pain. She turned to the metal men and screamed a curse.

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Revin’s body stiffened.

The metal men lowered their weapons. Ismander let out a cry and charged, her sword impaling the monster in the chest with a painful screech of metal through metal. A blue light glowed from within.

Revin almost dropped his blade in terror, but Blackfire growled, filling Revin with courage. Blackfire was a wolf, used to fighting. Used to hunting. Defiance surged within Blackfire, broiling until it burst from Revin’s lips with a primal shout.

Blackfire and Revin attacked.

Blackfire jumped onto one of their mechanical arms and knocked the gun to the ground. Revin ran forward with a guttural scream, aiming for the thing’s elbow joint. He hit it in the chest, and his blade slid across the surface, not piercing. While it was distracted with Blackfire, Revin drew back his blade and struck again, cramming it into the metal man’s elbow joint. The joint cracked and its arm spun wildly upward. Blackfire tumbled and the metal man smacked Revin across the face, sending him sprawling.

He looked up from the ground, shaking off the dizziness and trying to ignore the pain in his jaw. The metal man grabbed Blackfire and tossed him aside. Blackfire tumbled, jolted and dazed.

Revin struggled to get up. He told Blackfire to do the same. The metal man lifted its gun from the ground with its one good arm.

A voice spoke in Revin’s mind with harsh enunciation. “Witness what happens to those who challenge my Lord.”

The strange guns fired again with that short, cut-off whistle.

Blackfire fell back to the snow. A typhoon of pain tore through him and into Revin. Something he’d never felt before. Weapons tearing your insides apart. Slicing the skin. Setting every nerve on fire.

Blackfire howled in agony. Revin fell to the ground, forgetting his sword, tears falling freely as he writhed in pain. He got a moment of focus to calm Blackfire, to tell him everything was going to be all right.

Blackfire looked into Revin’s eyes, ears drooping, whimpering quietly. But Revin had no comfort to give. Blackfire’s eyes drooped, his mouth dribbled blood, the black of his fur contrasting starkly with the red blood and the white snow.

Their connection severed. A part of his mind dissipated. Something that had been as much a part of him as his own thoughts. A whole field of emotion and sensation evaporated in an instant. Revin blinked back tears. His whole body trembled. Like what Ismander had felt when Tungol had died.

Ismander kicked a defeated metal man to the ground. She glared at the others blade raised, a scream of rage echoing through the clearing. She charged.

Weapons whistled loudly.

Ismander jerked as her body released rapid puffs of red mist. She sucked in a wet gasp of air and fell to her knees, her eyes wide. She gaped at the new holes in her chest.

She turned to Revin with a look of dismay. “Go now!” she shouted hoarsely with her failing breath, blood and spittle spraying with her words. Her eyes fluttered as her glance flickered to the sky.

Revin froze. He trembled. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening. He could only stare at Ismander. Her eyes gazed at the clouds, tears falling, mixing with the blood on her lips as she uttered a final whisper “Why didn’t you give me more time?”

Her eyes rolled back, and she fell face forward onto the snow.

Revin stumbled, no sword in his hands.

His eyes opened wide with fear, and he finally did what he should have done much earlier.

He ran.

Guns whistled, branches snapped, and metal feet crunched in the snow behind him. He sobbed and ran, jumping, stumbling, tripping, falling, frantically trying to get back up. The forest rushed past him in a blur. He wanted to look back. But he had to get away.

Blackfire. His wolf. His best friend… dead.

Ismander…

He tripped again, and his face hit the cold snow. He flinched covering his head and curling in a ball, gasping rapidly for breath, the cold air sharp in his lungs. His hands were numb, his skin cold and clammy. His muscles ached. The pounding in the earth stopped.

He froze. Nausea threatened to overwhelm him. The world felt as though he was spinning, and his vision pulsed bright and dark under his tight eyelids. Weapons clicked.

This was it. He wanted it to end. Wanted death to come.

But it didn’t.

He opened his eyes, nausea almost overcoming him. The metal men surrounded him. They stared blankly into the forest, only one stared down at him.

“You shouldn’t have defied me.”

Revin heard the voice in his mind; recognizing it as mindspeak.

“Narazoth?”

“Yes.” The voice was firm, but not angry. “You have a choice to make now.”

“What choice?’ Revin thought. He looked around frantically. Was Narazoth close? He had to be. Where was he?

“You can stay and die, or you can leave and live.” There was a sadness to his tone, “I know how it feels to lose a beast under your stewardship… your soul ripped in two…”

“You made me feel it! You killed Blackfire!” Revin thought angrily to Narazoth. He searched more furiously. There was no sign of the man. A chill went down Revin’s spine.

“I killed him to warn what you would experience if you stayed. Do you want to feel that again and again? Imagine a hundred beasts under your command, dying at the same time. Why deal with that, when you could avoid it? That, my young man, is insanity.”

The memory of Blackfire’s painful death echoed in Revin’s head. He remembered Ismander’s bleeding body, the snow slowly changing from white to scarlet. The blank look in her eyes.

“What do I have to do?”

“Head north until you return to the shore, head east until you reach a port. My men will send you home, where you will not interfere with this war.”

“And when you invade?”

“Then I will call on you to serve. A monk of your talents shouldn’t be slaughtered for Ismander’s cause. For now, don’t die in a war you don’t understand.”

Revin panicked. What did he do? What did he say? He could hardly grasp what was happening, his breathing was still rapid, his head spinning.

“Your silence is answer enough. Goodbye, Revin Henrir.”

The metal men raised their weapons and aimed them at Revin.

Blackfire and Ismander’s corpses filled his mind’s eye.

“Wait! Wait… I’ll go.” He mindspoke as quickly as he could, praying with all his might not to die. Tears falling as he waited for the rush of pain, for the agony of death.

It didn’t come.

“Good. Go now. We will meet again.”

The metal men walked away and Revin lay on his back, unmoving for a very, very long time.

✦✦✦

Revin hacked at the frozen ground with his dark sword. It was hard to dig a grave, even harder to dig two.

The pain Blackfire felt as he died flashed through Revin’s mind. He threw down the weapon in anger and looked up at the sky. He screamed into the air.

His anger turned to sadness and he fell to his knees, putting his head in his hands, “Why?” His tears fell to the earth. Visions of blood and violence flashed before his eyes. Ismander’s saurian, Ismander herself, and Blackfire. All dead because of him. If he hadn’t have come, Blackfire would be alive…

He looked at the grave he had already dug for Ismander, his fingers shaking from the cold earth. His hands were stained red. Ismander’s eyes were blank. The blood that remained on her clothes was frozen.

Narazoth… he expected Revin to serve him someday. But, for now, he wanted Revin gone.

He looked at Blackfire’s corpse. Blackfire’s eyes were still open, his ears drooped low.

He returned to his grisly work, trying not to worry about what he was going to do next.