Omrai slept little. They’d marched quickly, and the army of metal warriors didn’t follow. They only watched. Later, he sent scouts to survey the damage, hoping to gather the dead. They had not yet returned.

Memories of the battle—blades and musketballs piercing him, a crushing sensation over his body—threatened to overwhelm him. He flinched, pushing the feelings away. The guilt was almost crippling, threatening to take his legs out from beneath him. It was already strange that he could read others’ emotions so well, he always could. But he hated the pain that came with the death of a soldier, whether one of his own, or an enemy.

And that was why he fought. He fought to reduce the pain in the world. Every enemy soldier he slew, he slew for peace. He protected his lands from those who would abuse it. He could meet with an enemy general and after a short discussion understand enough about the man to defeat him. That was why Omrai threw himself into the front lines. To understand his enemy. It filled him with a great deal of empathy, which he then used to destroy his enemies.

That was why he slaughtered so many noblemen during the rebellion. They didn’t understand the pain they caused. That was why he cut off the old emperor’s head. The man was a cruel and manipulative bastard.

And now, a new man wanted to be emperor of the world.

He turned to his men. “Make sure we have enough sentries, I don’t want Jebuthar catching us in the night,” Omrai said to one of his captains.

Captain Nock nodded. He breathed in and held it, mouth partially open. He had something more to say.

“What is it, Captain Nock?”

“It’s just… sir… what do we do if they attack again?”

“We run.”

“And when they’ve driven us to the western ocean?”

Omrai frowned also. “What would you have me do?”

The captain bowed slightly, “I don’t know. I just wish we could fight them, but…”

“But their weapons are too powerful,” Omrai said, “If we hadn’t retreated when we did, I fear he would have slaughtered us to a man.”

“I pray Shevidaro protects us.” Captain Nock exhaled unsteadily. “After that… I barely made it sir.”

Omrai nodded, sensing the man’s anguish. He had lost many friends.

“High General Omrai Speartip!”

A scout stumbled into the tent, attempting a salute.

“At ease, what is it?”

“The battlefield…” The man breathed heavily between words. “Survivors… marching here.”

Omrai’s eyes widened. “How many?”

The man took a few more breaths, finally slowing down. “Not many. Those closest to the cannonballs are dead. Those furthest claim they were knocked unconscious, but some awoke and pulled others away from its effects. Some men, those near two or more cannonballs… Well, sir, not to disrespect the dead, but it’s as if they were trampled by a herd of brachios. The dirt and grass itself is pressed flat.”

Omrai nodded. “To march against Jebuthar in open war is death.”

The scout frowned at Omrai’s sudden morbidity. Omrai ignored him, looking at the cities marked on the map. “If we stay in our cities for refuge, his armies will drop on our heads. Our walls will do little good.”

Omrai turned to the scout again, “Do you think it’s safe to send men to the battlefield? Will Jebuthar allow that?”

“His ships and all his metal warriors are gone. And he didn’t harass the survivors.”

Omrai looked back to Captain Nock, “Organize the wagons. Send a relief team to help the survivors. Send saurians and ropes. Try to pull what men we can from the areas affected without getting stuck also.”

✦✦✦

He approached his tent’s entrance which flapped in the breeze and looked out at the camp. It was far more disorderly than he’d trained his men to be, but that was understandable. The wounded and weak were everywhere. Soldiers wandered, hoping to find lost friends. Some did, shouting for joy. Many didn’t. Tears were not uncommon. So many gone the way of the earth.

“Sir?”

Omrai let out a slow breath. It was one interruption after another today. He turned around to see Kaiato standing there, firm in a military stance.

“What is it?” Omrai said.

“If I may ask, what happened?”

Omrai frowned. “We lost. Jebuthar was too strong.”

“Was he there?”

Omrai nodded.

Now it was Kaiato’s turn to frown.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

Omrai nodded again.

“You should have brought me with you. If I had been there, I could have shot him.”

“Would you have?”

“I have no love for Jebuthar.”

“That would be the perfect time to learn that you were sent to assassinate me.”

Kaiato straightened his shoulders and his frown turned into a glare. “I am a man of my word.”

Omrai took a breath. “Continue to serve me well, and you may earn my trust.”

“I could have killed him,” Kaiato said. “War over.”

“You are dismissed,” Omrai said. “Go back to the smithy.”

Kaiato gave a deep bow and left.

Omrai watched him go. Yet another mystery to solve. Omrai felt a spike of guilt and shame. Confused, he thought on himself, then realized it wasn’t his own. He looked around.

Revin sat on a log, touching the small stego he’d mastered earlier. He slouched. His eyes were red, puffy, encircled by dark, sunken skin. His body frozen except for the one hand resting on the young stego’s nose. He still bore the copper-brown residue of blood on his skin and clothes.

Much had gone wrong today, but Omrai had been able to quickly order a retreat because of Revin’s connection with the saurians. Many lives were saved from those minutes gained. It was only Revin’s first battle, everyone struggled with that.

But Revin looked like he didn’t want to see any more.

✦✦✦

Revin touched his stego’s head. He’d named it Avey. He didn’t know why, it just sounded appropriate. He scratched the spot Avey liked, right above his ears. They were much more like turtle’s ears than any other creature Revin had seen. These beasts were strange.

They also felt so much emotion. He remembered the agony of their wounds, the intensity of their pain. He winced at the memories and took a steadying breath to fight back the tears. His connection was down to a few gallimais and Avey. Other gallimais he’d once controlled had returned, but his connection was gone.

“Revin,” Omrai’s voice said behind him. Revin looked over his shoulder.

Omrai approached. He loomed tall, even among his soldiers. He gave Revin a comforting smile. How could he look calm after what had just happened?

“How do you do it?” Revin said, incredulous.

“Do what?” Omrai said, sitting next to him.

“I thought I could handle it. Just like in the old stories, right? Heroes marching to battle, defending their homes.”

“The stories skim over a lot. They don’t talk enough about the pain a leader feels as his men die. War is no game.”

“But how do you live with it?” Revin said, his knuckles tightening, “You’ve fought hundreds of battles before, right?”

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“Yes,” Omrai said. “And there’s only one way I can deal with it.”

Omrai looked up at the broken army. “I think of them and their families. I think of mine. The joy at seeing lives preserved far outweighs the pain of seeing it lost.” Omrai rubbed his head. “The good of what I do may be greater than the cost, but there is still a cost. It will never be easy to live death as your constant companion.”

Those words brought to his mind his closest companion. The one who would never return. Whose black fur would never warm him again. Whose eyes and howls would pierce the night no more.

Omrai continued. “War breaks us all. But some of us, it shatters. Which are you?”

“I don’t know.”

They sat for a moment in silence. What else was there to say?

“I’m sorry we lost. It’s my fault.”

“Do you want to go home?”

Revin paused. Unsure for a moment how to respond.

“Are you sending me away?”

“No. I’m trying to discover what kind of man you are. Now, answer me, do you want to go home?”

A warm cup of tea, his mother and father talking in the next room. Running through the hills with Blackfire. Hearing the chirping of cicadas and the hoots of owls in the night, the crackle of a fire keeping him warm. A world where he was at the top, master of ferocious beasts, miles ahead of the other monks…

But those saurians… Ismander, Blackfire… Agony he’d never known. He did his best to shove the images aside.

“Yes.”

“Then go. Perhaps you can better protect your people from there. I cannot enlist you to protect mine. It shouldn’t be your burden.”

“I…” Revin said, “I can’t.”

Omrai grabbed Revin’s shoulder, not releasing until Revin looked him in the eyes. It was difficult.

“Why not?”

Revin took a deep breath. “Home would be just as hard. Especially once Jebuthar crushes you and comes for us.” Revin flinched at the thought, monks slaughtered and captured by automatons. “I- I just… can’t.” He didn’t want to think about staying or going, he just wanted to stare and think of nothing, drive away the feelings that threatened to strangle him.

Revin closed his eyes, uttering a silent prayer for strength. He opened his eyes to stare at Omrai. The man bore a sympathetic, furrowed look. Waiting for Revin to finish. “Protecting your people is the best way to protect mine . And...”

Omrai smiled, “You’re the only one that can do it. You can’t hand the duty of protecting your people to another.”

Revin nodded.

“Then you understand how I can face such horror and live,” Omrai said.

Revin looked at the ground again. “How can you ever sleep again? Every time I close my eyes. I see it all over again.”

“It doesn’t get any easier,” Omrai said as Revin turned to him. “You just get a little stronger.”

Revin leaned over. He couldn’t get the images out. He tensed.

“A part of me wants to send you home anyway,” Omrai said.

“I really want to help,” Revin said, “I want to stop him.”

“I don’t know if we have time to acclimatize you to the horrors of war.”

Revin pushed the bloody memories away. “I can do it! I have to.”

“But, Revin, your ambition does not reflect your ability. You said you could handle war, but you crumbled under the pressure.”

Revin looked away. “I want to make it work.” Revin’s frown deepened further.

Omrai locked gazes with him. “You froze, it’s understandable. You’ve been a monk your entire life. But I can’t have you cracking at the wrong moment.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Revin snapped, growing frustrated.

“Revin,” Omrai said, as if trying to calm a child, “Even if you hadn’t panicked, we still would have lost. In fact, we might have lost more men if the saurians weren’t so inclined to flee. We were lucky. But ambition can be a forging fire or a suffocating flame.”

“Then how can I help? I can command saurians, and if our wills align further, I can master even more!”

Omrai shook his head, “It doesn’t matter how many soldiers or saurians we have, as long as the enemy has those weapons, there is little we can do to stop them. I’ve never been weaker than my enemy by so great a .”

Revin nodded.

“I don’t want you fighting, not yet at least.”

“Then what do you want me to do?”

Omrai’s hands tightened into fists. “I must understand him. You need to teach me all that you know of your magic. Then, if mastering more saurians would help, we’ll do it. But first, I must understand Jebuthar.”

Revin nodded again. Slowly.

“We need to understand your abilities. We had very little time to experiment,” Omrai said. “You haven’t mastered any carnivores.”

“I, uh,” Revin said, feeling like he was pushing the thoughts through thick cotton. “I mastered those compies.”

“Those are simple-minded. Crushjaws are bold and direct. Yutaraptors are clever and vicious. Giganotos are smart enough to ambush you when you’re asleep.”

A different image entered the chaotic stage of Revin’s mind. That beast with the fabulous plumage, watching him from above the snow-covered forest. The giganoto.

Revin let out an exhausted breath, a dull pain throbbed behind his eyes, begging them to shut. “So, what now?”

“We regroup at Solinia. I’ll be meeting my generals there, as well as my brother. I fear that all my old strategies are useless”

Revin nodded. “And I need to know how Narazoth controls the metal monsters. We need a live one. Our “magic” is only supposed to work on animals. Those weren’t animals.”

“And we need to understand his weapons,” Omrai said. “If we can’t stop those, it doesn’t matter if we know how the metal warriors work.”

Revin paused. “Ismander mentioned Narazoth found Kerdun in the north, a country long gone. She thought the metal monsters were related to it.”

Omrai pursed his lips, “Perhaps the archives at Solinia can help.”

Revin nodded.

“Rest tonight,” Omrai said, placing a hand on Revin’s shoulder. “In the morning, let’s meet.”

Revin nodded.

“Good night Revin, do your best to sleep.”

✦✦✦

Soldiers screamed as their weight compounded. Fires burned like dancing ribbons. Balls of light flew across the sky. Echoes of pain. He doubled over. This was failing!

Jebuthar. The black robe. Only when the man removed his hood it wasn’t Jebuthar at all, it was Narazoth. He knew, somehow. The face shifted, the eyes changed, the nose’s shape unclear. Was it a smile, or a frown?

The sky turned grey. Narazoth fired a pistol. The bullet hit Revin’s shoulder with explosive pain. Narazoth fired again, and again. Revin’s eyes widened. He wasn’t wearing his mastersuit. Spikes of agony. Revin collapsed, gasping for breath. He was under a pile of invisible rocks. He was at Peril’s Reef. Ismander was calling to him, urging him to come to the boat. But he couldn’t move. The sea turned to blood.

Narazoth stood over him, sword pointed down and held in both hands.

“No!” Revin yelled. “I just want to go home!”

A smile grew on the shifting face. The blade came down.

And Revin woke up.

✦✦✦

Revin’s tent was dark. He shook his head, trying to get the memories, dreams, or whatever, out of his mind. The deaths reverberated painfully in his head. He never knew one could feel such pain .

Revin had hardly slept since the battle. How could others fight long wars? Revin had been in one fight and he wanted to give up and go home.

But he couldn’t. Going home would doom his people to servitude. Jebuthar had shown that to deny him was to accept death. Revin’s parents would fight, and they would die. Slaughtered by sorcery of an era long past.

How could he have stopped Jebuthar? He was overwhelmed by rushing thoughts of the thousand things he should have done. He could have mastered flying saurians and killed Jebuthar with their claws and beaks. He could have killed him back at the parlay. They’d still have had to deal with Narazoth, but he’d be masterless.

Should they remove Narazoth first? He was the one who really controlled the army of… clock monsters .

Revin clenched his fists. Beastspeaking was only supposed to apply to animals.

But… he’d never seen a saurian before Ismander. Maybe he didn’t have a clue what qualified as a beast.

Maybe everything he knew about the world was wrong.

He looked into the dark, vainly searching for some light to comfort him. There was none. He was nothing. A moron. He didn’t understand the world or anything in it. Was he always wrong? How had he mastered a titanoboa, what was different about a saurian?

What was different about a metal machine?

Revin’s breathing was ragged, and he squeezed his eyes shut. His mind wouldn’t stop. It spun him in circles. His heartbeat pounded in his ears.

He wished he could sleep, but it evaded him. Much like the mysteries of this wider world. A world of blood and death.

A world where friends died, and enemies abounded.