A sharp pain in his chest pushed Revin unwillingly into consciousness. He pressed and felt bandages, only slightly moist. His eyes blearily blinked open. White canvas arced above him. Everything jostled and bumped. Was he in a wagon?

He sat up with a wince. He wore no shirt, but he saw it laying folded beside him. Most of the blood had been cleaned off. He put it on, his ribs smarting as he moved his arms above his head.

He lay back down and breathed, waiting for the pain to subside. He tried to remember what had happened. Did I just get shot? The answer was yes. He’d been shot, and by some miracle he’d lived.

He uttered a quick prayer of gratitude.

He lay there for a long while, hearing a rumble from more than just the wagon. Despite his curiosity, his exhaustion got the better of him, and he drifted in and out of a dreamless sleep. Something itched at the back of his head, something missing. He awoke again with a start as the wagon hit bumpy ground, rattling him. He wondered how long it had been. Light still shone through; it was probably afternoon.

Once he had mustered the strength, he crawled toward what he assumed was the front of the wagon and pulled the heavy canvas curtain aside. The bright sunshine beat his eyes, shooting pain into his skull. He blinked slowly, trying to get them to adjust.

“You’re awake.”

Kaiato sat at the front, looking behind at Revin. He sat next to a man handling the reins. Neither horse nor donkey pulled the wagon, but one of those large three-horned creatures which had chased him up a tree when he’d been lost in the north.

“The army surgeons said the damage was minor. You’re lucky the ball stopped at your ribs.”

“Yes, I’m awake, unfortunately.” His head contracted and expanded with each beat of his heart, painfully pressing on his skull from the inside. He wanted to lay back down and sleep, but he had far too many questions. He had to know where he was and what was happening. And still, a question he couldn’t place hovered over his mind like a raincloud.

The first thing he noticed were the towering beasts. Revin had seen drawings of giraffes before, but these put them to shame. Like the giraffe, these beasts walked on all fours, and their necks were long, but where the giraffe was only a few men tall, this beast was a few giraffes tall. And, to add to Revin’s surprise, he saw a person sitting in a harness just below the beast’s head.

His eyes widened as he looked up the road. A massive army marched in a long column. More wagons than he could count, the wide road filled with soldiers for what had to have been half a mile. They bore armor like Omrai, and bore swords, ridiculously long spears, and shields. Men rode on the backs of giant ostriches, more three-horned creatures, squat, and bony turtle-like beasts, and what looked like a smaller relative of the giganoto. He could feel the ground trembling with the footfalls of beasts massive enough to flatten him. His mind ached with the number of things he was seeing.

His whole life he’d been living in a tiny world, filled with tiny people and tiny beasts. Here, now, he saw how small his world was. How small and petty his rivalries with the other monks had been. The world was far, far larger than his greatest imaginings.

“What do you think, Beastspeaker?” a voice to Revin’s right said. Omrai Speartip rode one of the large, ostrich-looking beasts. He sat as high as Revin in the large wagon. His gaze was piercing, his eyes locked on Revin’s. He resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably.

Revin let out a nervous laugh. “I’ve never seen so many people in my life.”

“Not many people where you’re from?”

“Not nearly,” Revin said.

“Kaiato told me you’re from an island of Shevidarist monks?” Omrai said, “Far to the west?”

“Something like that,” Revin said, hesitant about correcting the man’s pronunciation.

The ostrich-beast gave a honk, and the question that Revin hadn’t been able to place rushed to the forefront of his mind.

“My compies!” Revin said, eyes widening. His tendrils of mastery extended outward and found nothing. No bound-beasts. He was alone in his head once again, open to the elements.

“I’m sorry, we had to abandon them.”

“How long has it been?” Revin said, knowing that he’d missed his evening and morning rituals.

“Half a day,” Omrai said, “A night and a morning. We couldn’t take them with us, Revin. We had no way. And they weren’t very responsive when you were unconscious. They bit us when we tried to take you. And when we tried to gather them, they scattered…”

Revin’s shoulders slumped in exhaustion and disappointment. He supposed it was for the best that they were gone. What use would they be in a fight with the metal men? He didn’t want them to die for him, not by an enemy they couldn’t fight. Not like Blackfire. Not like Ismander. His feathered friends were gone, and a piece of his heart went with them. They had been his only companions, for a time. A shield against the wilds and against solitude.

“You did well in that fight,” Omrai said. He glanced at Kaiato. “Both of you. I’m afraid I would have lost more than two men if it weren’t for you.”

“And does the fact that he got shot convince you that we aren’t working with Jebuthar?” Kaiato said.

Omrai gave a half-smile. “For now.”

Revin thought back to how Omrai had fought the metal men, not a moment of hesitation as he blocked the way between his men and the machines. That could have gotten him killed.

“Where did you learn to fight like that?” Revin said.

“I saw your sword,” Omrai said with a nod, “I’ve never seen its like before. I learned from my father, and then many, many battles.”

Revin shook his head incredulously, remembering the injuries he gained from every fight. “How can you be alive?”

Omrai’s lips tightened in concentration. He took a deep breath. “Grit. Practice. And luck.”

They rode in silence for a time, until finally Kaiato broke it. “Revin,” Kaiato said, “Do you… want us to go back? Get your compies?”

Revin let out a sigh and shook his head. “No, they’d only die the next time we fought.”

Omrai cocked his head, confused. “We? You want to fight again?”

Memories he didn’t want forced their way to the forefront of his mind. Violence, fear, and death. He did his best to shove them aside, flinching and shaking his head. “I don’t want to, but I don’t have a lot of options. That’s why I’m here.”

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“To fight metal men?”

“To stop Narazoth from conquering your lands and then mine,” Revin said. He tried to figure out what he wanted to say next. He had so much pent up energy, a suffocating uselessness born of his recent failures. He could do more. So much more.

“And how do you intend to do that?” Omrai said.

“By offering you my services, as a beastspeaker.”

Omrai’s gaze turned scrutinizing, eyes locked on Revin’s. Revin didn’t want to break first, but the weight of that gaze, the analysis, the discernment. Revin looked away, hiding the motion in an action of rubbing his eyes.

“Though I’ve never seen compies behave that way before, tricks and cheats won’t win me a war.”

“I can do a lot more than tricks,” Revin said, smirking. He scooted to the edge of the wagon nearest Omrai. “Bring your ostrich closer.”

“Ost-ridge?” Omrai cocked his head and furrowed his brow. He motioned to his mount, “this is a gallimai.”

“Yeah, close enough.” Revin said, “Just bring it closer.”

Omrai frowned, but pulled on the reigns, drawing his mount closer to Revin.

Revin reached out. The effort caused his chest to hurt again, but he did his best to ignore it and touched the creature’s neck.

He felt its mind, frightened and surprised at his intrusion. He wrapped his will around the creature’s, like a lasso around a beast’s neck, and after mere moments it was his. The connection was made. Through the creature’s mind, he felt Omrai’s weight on its back and its curiosity.

“Your beast is now mine to control.”

Omrai frowned. “You’re serious? You’ve tamed it, just like that?”

Revin nodded. “I don’t tame. I mastered it. Our minds are connected. I can read its thoughts, and command it to do almost anything I want it to.”

“I’ve seen it,” Kaiato said, “Those compies did things you couldn’t train a beast to do.”

Omrai looked at Kaiato and nodded slowly. He turned back to Revin. “Alright, show me.”

Revin focused on the telepathic connection, and he commanded the creature to squawk several times. Revin commanded it to hop. Omrai’s eyes widened at the unexpected movement.

“Enough!” Omrai snapped, grabbing hold of the reins to calm his beast. “I believe you.”

Revin made the beast stop, feeling uncomfortable.

Omrai gave Revin a look that hinted at both fear and respect. “Are you a witcher? Do you speak to the dead as well?”

Revin knew the stories from the Sephitaron. Tricksters and demon-worshippers said to have great power from Crotello, the dark one. Revin shook his head, “I’m a follower of Sephitaro. And he has given the Hiriv monks the ability to speak to beasts.”

Omrai nodded. “And you can just control whatever beasts you want? How many?”

“I have to master them first, but, dozens,” Revin said, “And then, when I choose a Lord, more.”

Revin looked at the army, filled with great saurians bred for war. He looked back at Omrai. Studying his gaze. He hoped Omrai got the hint.

“You want me to be your Lord?” Omrai’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “How does that even work? Is this another part of your sorcery?”

“It’s not sorcery!” Revin said, growing exasperated. “It’s a gift from Sephitaro.”

“Not one I’ve ever heard of,” Omrai said. “So far, you’ve given me very little evidence of the divine status of your abilities. At this point, you’re as alien to me as Jebuthar.”

Revin frowned. “I’m not working for Jebuthar.”

“Well then,” Omrai said, “Explain why you are so eager to swear yourself to my service. A monk with no battlefield experience, a tamer of beasts.”

“Then how can I help?” Revin said, growing exasperated. This guy just wasn’t budging.

“What I’m interested in most right now is what you know about Jebuthar’s army.”

“Well,” Revin leaned against a barrel, his chest hurt again. “I think they come from some dead country in the north once called Kerdun.”

“Never heard of it.”

“It was a long time ago…” Revin looked around, searching for the text he’d taken from Ismander. The leather was still in decent shape, but its recent coat of oil was running dry. He’d have to get more before it started to crack.

“Ov north ov old Kerdun lay in maity opulence. Bespend the coin and mynd on metal and rotunds ov technical concording. Ov death and weyt were its weapons, crushing to earth. Men stood, then beknelt neath blades befallen…

“The pathing sky their strength, their falling…

“The flesh begone, souls bound in industry. Their end born ov death-dabbling, ‘til maity lyfe-armor fails and death pierces. Lyfe ended for fleeing perishment.

“That didn’t make any sense,” Kaiato said, frowning at Revin in confusion.

Omrai touched his stubbled chin in thought. “It merits further analysis. I’ll have my scholars analyze it when we arrive.”

“It talks about metal, and death,” Revin said. “That’s the most I can get out of it.”

“And the sky,” Omrai said. “I’ve received reports that Jebuthar’s army has magic weapons and flying fortresses.”

Revin’s eyes widened “What?”

“His armies dropped on our cities in massive constructs of metal and stone.”

“Metal and stone don’t fly,” Kaiato said, “That’s impossible.”

“We’ll learn the truth soon enough,” Omrai said. “I read the reports myself. Now I need to see it with my own eyes.”

The conversation’s new direction annoyed Revin. He didn’t know what was happening next. He wondered if Omrai would lock him up or leave him in a fortress as he marched away. “I still stand by my offer, to bind my gifts to you, to use my gifts against Jebuthar.”

“What you speak of sounds like far more than just an agreement.”

“It’s a binding,” Revin said, “done through the powers of my gifts. Our minds will be connected to the point of hearing each other’s thoughts.”

Omrai’s eyes widened now. “You expect me to let you read my mind?”

“No!” Revin said, clenching his fist, “It’s just whatever you mindspeak to me. I can’t just… prance in your thoughts whenever I want.”

“And how lasting is such a bond?”

“Until one of us dies,” Revin said.

Omrai shook his head, “You do realize how mad this sounds, don’t you? How do you even know what type of leader I would be?”

Revin frowned, “You showed Kaiato mercy, and he kinda saved my life, therefore you’ve got to be a good man.”

Omrai turned to Kaiato. “You saved his life?”

Kaiato nodded. “He tried to touch a giganoto.” Kaiato shook his head. “My rifle scared it off. It’s like he wanted to become its supper.”

Omrai raised an eyebrow and looked at Revin. “So, you are mad. Those creatures are untrainable.”

“I don’t train. I master. And I’ve never failed before,” Revin said with a smile.

“Ah, there it is again,” Omrai said. “You’re reckless.”

Revin furrowed his brow. “I see what needs doing and I do it.”

Omrai said nothing, he just frowned. He gave Revin a look that was very familiar. Revin’s father had given it to him a thousand times.

The look that said Revin was still a child.

Revin’s fists tightened, and he wanted to say more, but just then they crested another hill, and what lay before Revin left him speechless yet again.

A vast field of well-trodden grass lay before him, and it was covered in what had to be thousands of tents. He felt his eyes widen. Hundreds of thousands of soldiers moved to and fro, the field covered in almost as many campfires. The din of the crowd rose up to Revin’s ears, a consistent hum of clinking metal, voices, and saurian calls. The tents were arrayed in disturbingly straight rows and columns, many ending with a handful of wagons. How could such a large group be so organized?

And the saurians. The same kinds he’d seen on the road, but so many more. Their honks and roars filled the camp, and to the western side were massive tents, where saurians walked in and out, led by their trainers. They all looked so tiny from his vantage point rolling over the road on the hill. A field of ants.

As his gaze moved north, towards the mountains, an even greater sight slammed into his eyes. There was a massive walled city, jutting up with the rise of the plains to nestle against the steep mountains. Much of the city looked carved from the mountains, its walls and towers colored of the same dark grey stone.

His jaw dropped as he realized that the mere specks moving along the walls were people and saurians. Even squinting, he could barely make them out. Those walls had to be taller than the towering sequoias in the east of the Hiriv.

Revin realized he’d been holding his breath. He let it out, his heart pounding.

“Impressed?” Omrai said, watching him with a small smile.

Revin nodded wordlessly.

“Solin is average sized.” Omrai shrugged.

“Average?”

Omrai nodded curtly. “Now, I must hurry ahead. I’ve orders to give the camp before we enter the city and perform the Holy Incense Ceremony.”

Without another word, Omrai rode off.

Revin cocked his head. “Holy Incense Ceremony...”

Kaiato tapped on Revin’s shoulder. “Just go with it.”

Revin frowned. “I have my own ceremony.”

“No,” Kaiato snapped. He looked at the wagon driver, who pretended to ignore them. Kaiato looked back at Revin. “You could get arrested.”

“Sounds close enough,” Revin said, “Why can’t I do my own?”

Kaiato frowned sympathetically. “Look, I get it. You’ve got your own faith. You can do whatever you want, I’m just telling you the rules.”

Revin let out a sigh. “Fine, fine. I guess I won’t need to do it at all if they do it right.”

Kaiato nodded. “We’re walking thin ice here, Revin. It pays to be cautious.”