Shifra waited with several of her father’s best. Watching the mounts and the supplies. She sat on a rock, pretending to study maps. In fact, all the warriors left at the camp pretended to do something productive, when in fact they were all eagerly awaiting the general’s return.

She rubbed her eyes. She needed better sleep.

At the first sounds of gunfire and the echoing cries of saurians, Shifra and the others stopped pretending, all turning toward the source of the sound. The earth and sky rumbled.

In a moment, all had their weapons loaded and ready. Muskets and pistols ready to go. She knew what they were all thinking. If her father failed miserably, a horde of automatons could come marching right over that rise, ready to crush them all.

The sounds, along with the fear, brought Shifra back to that battle. She didn’t want to be there, even though her skills had finally been put to the test. She knew that her spearmaster hadn’t been falsely complimenting her. She was good. And if that were the only part that came to mind, she’d be fine remembering that battle.

But those memories always brought pain. A vision of blood. Of Qadi clutching at her face, falling to the earth with a bloody scream. She had failed her best friend. Failed Qadi’s father. She prayed to Father God, begging him to let Qadi live. To let her recover as much as she could.

And, as always, the weight of that loss brought that responsibility onto Shifra’s shoulders. If Qadi couldn’t continue the fight to change Ateya, then Shifra had to.

She didn’t feel qualified.

✦✦✦

Shifra watched the survivors limp back to their makeshift camp, her eyes wide. More than half of the men who had been sent hadn’t returned, and many of those who did looked injured.

Kaiato looked tired but mostly unharmed and he helped the badly limping Revin walk. She’d told Revin not to go. Not to run. Revin’s eyes were red and puffy, and his face was poorly bandaged and bleeding excessively from a wound across his cheekbone.

Omrai’s face was contorted into a scowl of rage, his every muscle tight. They were here and alive, but it seemed like luck.

She wished she had gone. How many could she have saved? How many automatons could she have broken? She rushed up to her father and embraced him. He didn’t hug her back. She backed up and looked at him.

She noticed a stranger among them. He was taller than the others but hunched over. She turned to her father, eyes questioning him.

“What happened?” Shifra said, “Is this the man Revin saw in his vision?”

“Yes,” Omrai said.

She looked at Omrai and the others. If this were the man they needed, why did they look like they’d just suffered a defeat?

“What happened?” Shifra finally said.

“Ask the boy ,” Omrai said, tilting his head back toward Revin.

“Ask me?” Revin said, shouting, “ask me ?”

Kaiato tried to calm Revin down, but he shoved him away. Revin almost fell to the ground while Omrai, face contorting in rage and pain as his bad knee was forced to support his weight. “What was I supposed to do? Wait for him to kill me?”

“When it came down to it, you’re just as bad as Narazoth,” Omrai said.

“You couldn’t even stand!”

“Stop it!” Shifra said, motioning for some of the camp members to come help, “You need help.”

Omrai looked at Shifra. “No.” Then he turned his gaze to the newcomer in the robe. “We need to speak to our new friend here, immediately.”

“But you’re hurt!”

“Omrai’s wounds aren’t that severe,” the old man said, eyes scanning over Revin and Omrai’s bodies, “And Revin’s bandage will support his face for now.”

“And who are you to give medical advice?” Shifra snapped.

The man frowned. “I was healing wounds before you were born. Don’t presume to know more than your elders.”

His firmness stung. He looked over at Omrai and Revin.

“I’m sure you have many questions, and I have many for you. So, if you can put aside your childish disputes, we can discuss them now.”

Omrai looked angry. He had just been called a child. Shifra tried not to feel smug about it.

The old man pointed at the largest tent. “I assume that’s yours?”

“Yes,” Omrai said.

“Good, we will meet in there.”

The old man headed for the tent.

Omrai looked as if he wished to say something. Some sort of protest for being treated like a subordinate. But he only followed, Revin limping close behind. Kaiato moved in to help him, but Revin waved him off. Shifra could tell Revin’s anger had dissipated, and instead, he just looked sad. He walked away, but Kaiato remained behind, standing next to Shifra.

“What happened?” she said.

He frowned. “Jebuthar almost killed us.”

She looked back at the tent, watching as Revin stepped into it.

“What did Revin do that made Omrai so upset?”

Kaiato paused. “I… I think Revin should tell you.”

They went silent again. Kaiato turned to leave.

“Wait,” she said.

He turned back to her.

“I’m sorry… For pushing away... I’m trying to figure some things out.”

He nodded, smiling patiently. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

✦✦✦

Beadoróf stood while Omrai and Revin sat. Revin felt like he could finally get a good look at the man. He was older, but still physically fit. His muted silver-grey hair was cut short. His face bore a grim look; it had ever since they’d found him.

“Who are you?” Revin shifted in his seat and immediately winced.

“A Hiriv monk, like you. But also, a historian-”

“How do I know I can trust you?” Omrai said, interrupting.

Beadoróf’s gaze turned harsh. “If you knew how much he took from me, you wouldn’t ask such an offensive question.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Revin tried not to feel smug about the reprimand.

“Yours was not the first land he invaded. But I hope it may be the last,” Beadoróf said. He looked to Revin. “Do you understand what he does with the saurians?”

“He puts their souls into automaton bodies,” Revin said, “then controls them through Mastery.”

Beadoróf nodded. “He twists their minds, removing all natural instincts. The souls of saurians in Kerdunan bodies...” Beadoróf shook his head in disbelief. “In all the years of the northern empire, no one ever attempted it.”

“The northern empire?” Omrai said.

Beadoróf nodded. “Ten thousand years ago the Kerdunan empire was the strongest empire the world has ever seen. You see, that technology wasn’t invented for automatons, it was meant to turn men into gods. To place their souls into bodies of machine. Nigh immortal and impervious to disease.”

“I’m guessing there was a cost,” Omrai said.

“There was,” Beadoróf said, “But it didn’t come until after they conquered the world, setting themselves up as gods. Their evil grew too great, their lust for power too strong. They went to war with themselves. The beastspeakers of old, who did not have some of the limitations we do now, rose up and destroyed them. I don’t know how.”

Beadoróf looked Revin long in the eyes, causing him to shift uncomfortably. “What beasts have you mastered?”

Revin cocked his head, “Um… well, some carnivores back at my home island...”

“What kinds? Wolves? Foxes? Hawks?”

“Um, yes. And a giant serpent.”

Beadoróf nodded appreciatively. “And since you’ve been here? Which saurians?”

“I don’t know, gallimais, stegos, ceratops.”

Beadoróf’s face contorted into a frown. “And what carnivorous saurians?”

Revin frowned, “some uh…uh… compies. An archaeopteryx…”

“And the larger ones?”

“None.”

Beadoróf’s frown deepened.

He looked disappointed. He turned to Omrai.

“If he hasn’t mastered any giganotos, then I’m afraid your fight is hopeless.”

“Why don’t you master them?” Revin said.

Beadoróf slumped. “Because Jebuthar is my Life-Lord.”

Revin’s eyes widened. “But Narazoth is his monk, how could he…”

“Have two monks?” Beadoróf said, he laughed bitterly. “He doesn’t. He has sixteen.”

A sudden fear rose up in Revin’s chest.

Revin rushed closer to the man, limping as he got to his feet and grabbed the man’s arms. “Wait, who? From where? How?”

“A few of us he picked up in the east,” he said, “Murdered our masters and forced us to join him. But others, he went to our homeland. A small strike force.”

“When?” Revin said, anxiety mounting.

“A few weeks ago.”

“Who was taken?”

“The boldest who stood against him, Vorshin, Tevral…” he held his lip in a firm line, though emotion threatened to break through. “Even the prophet and his wife.”

Revin couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. The room spun around him. His parents? Taken? He sat, stunned. But this was the entire reason he’d left!

“He has my parents?” Revin said,

Beadoróf nodded. “He does, but they haven’t made him their master. Only seven have given in.”

“Is that how he controls so many saurians?” Revin said.

“Somewhat,” Beadoróf said. “Narazoth truly controls them all, but… Jebuthar has figured out some way to connect them all to a mind-core, use them as an extension of his own mind.”

“Why?” Omrai said. “Why would Jebuthar need more monks if Narazoth alone could control so many?”

Beadoróf frowned, “Regardless of Narazoth’s unimaginable powers, he’s hit his limit. Jebuthar won’t be able to grow his army without more monks. And the longer we wait, the more willing he becomes to hurt his captives.”

“Why were you kept separate?” Revin said.

Beadoróf frowned, “He needed bait for his trap. And… he wanted me close to the machines. I’ve lived in the north for a long time, studied the ancient histories, analyzed the ancient ruins and tech. And… I told him many things. Almost everything I knew.” Beadoróf’s hands tightened into white-knuckled fists and his face bore a look of shame. “To avoid the pain he inflicted… I made him my Life-Lord.”

Beadoróf took a deep breath. “Even now he yells in my mind, but I do not respond.”

“What do we do?” Omrai said, “How do we beat his weapons?”

“You don’t.” Beadoróf said, “But he, ” Beadoróf pointed at Revin, “just might. Our best chance is to master the giganotos.”

“Why?” Revin said.

“I don’t know why, but Jebuthar is terrified of them. He’s tried to capture them before and has failed each time. He told me they threaten his power. I don’t think even he knows why, but his automatons, who have no problems with other saurians, cannot overpower the giganotos.”

Omrai nodded. “Then come on, let’s master them!”

“I can’t,” Beadoróf said, “and we have no time to rescue anyone else. I don’t think he expected his trap to fail…”

Beadoróf looked at Revin. “ You must master them. I cannot, and He will raid the Hiriv again soon. Sooner if the rest of the monks refuse to bind themselves to him.”

Revin slumped in his seat. Jebuthar had forced monks to make him their Life-Lord? That… Revin could hardly imagine the pain. His power tied to a wicked master. For life. His father had spoken of monks who’d gone through it.

His father… his mother… they were prisoners… who knew what torture they were experiencing?

“Is there nothing else we can do? With all the resources at my disposal?” Omrai frowned.

“Omrai,” Beadoróf said, “Even with your armies and wisdom, you are just a man. You are not a beastspeaker, nor do you have the Gifts of Old nor any other ancient magic which could be of use. Without the giganotos, your nation is doomed. You’d be better off surrendering now and saving the lives of your men.”

Revin frowned, “But… we worked so hard to find you.”

“My men died to find you,” Omrai said, angry.

“And my Lord died losing me,” Beadoróf said, a sharp bitterness to his tone. “A good man, a kind leader. Throat slashed in his bed. My only warning the panicked thrashing of a dying mind.”

Beadoróf gripped the side of his chair, “I’ve lost much in this war, suffered much.” He pulled up his sleeve. Scars lined it, as if from a whip. Revin’s heart fell. Is this how Narazoth sought to persuade them?

“This is insane,” Omrai said, “In thousands of years, we’ve never tamed or caught a single one.”

Beadoróf sunk in a chair, no longer standing. “I’m tired, Omrai, and I’ve had plenty of time to analyze every option. This is the only chance.”

Omrai massaged his brow.

“Prophet or no,” Beadoróf said wearily, “Alrin will give in eventually. Narazoth will obtain the power to ordain more monks. Then he won’t have to do any convincing. He’ll just ordain those loyal to him as beastspeakers. Every other path leads to failure, and we’re running out of time.”

“Could we rescue them?” Revin said, sitting up. “Get the monks away from him?”

Beadoróf shook his head. “They are prisoners aboard his command ship, which never touches the ground. Even if we managed to rescue them, detach them from the mind-core, we would only delay him. Force him to lose connection to some of his warriors. I’m free from imprisonment, but Jebuthar’s will still binds my ability to master beasts. The others will be the same. Freeing them gets us no more beastspeakers. And those who resist… I don’t know where they’re kept.”

Omrai’s face contorted in frustration. He turned to Revin. “Get your wounds taken care of. Then, we will discuss what to do next.”

Revin stood, his arms tensing as they did most of the work to lift him. He nodded at Omrai and Beadoróf and limped out of the tent.