Sarin did not believe in half-measures. Though the lamia could already effectively communicate with the prisoner, she refused to continue the interrogation until she had mastered the language. Thankfully, Sarin informed Zhu that she no longer required his help, assuring him she would quickly attain fluency by herself.

Zhu didn’t bother making any token protests. If he had to act as an interpreter any longer, he would have killed himself, promise to The Watcher or not. To his dismay, freedom from Sarin’s study group just meant that his other minions felt entitled to his attention.

“So what am I looking at?” Zhu asked as he stared at what appeared to be a barn.

“It is a solution to our current food crisis, sire,” Aldrin answered with a puffed chest and beckoned him inside.

“That so?” Dubious but curious Zhu entered the building. He immediately regretted his decision. “The fuck is that smell?”

“Apologies for the stench, sire! I did not think it would affect you this badly!”

“I’m fine,” Zhu lied, claws now inserted into his nostrils. He couldn’t fathom how his guards and Aldrin could endure this sensory hell. “Was just surprised.”

The barn's interior was filled with rows upon rows of racks lined with sealed wooden bins. Keeping his nostrils plugged, Zhu slithered towards the nearest container and pulled the slidable wire mesh halfway open. He was treated to the sight of hundreds of brown insects scuttling over mounds of filth.

“Well, that explains the smell. So what’s up with this setup, Al? Why not just dig up more cockroach pits?”

“An excellent inquiry, sire! While this method of breeding does admittedly require more work and maintenance than the pits, it is the most efficient way of producing more cave roaches. By my estimates, this vertical insect facility will produce thirty thousand of the insects per square foot every year.”

“That is an impressive quantity,” one of Zhu’s ophidian guards remarked. “But are you insinuating that lord Zhulong’s methods were inefficient?”

“Of course not!” Aldrin squawked. “The pits lord Zhulong dug up were an ingenious and effective method of disposing of waste but, forgive me for saying this, sire, but the lack of space inhibited cockroach growth.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Zhu said, his casual tone relieving a panicked Aldrin. “Why are you still feeding them garbage though? Won’t the troops and animals get sick if they eat them?”

“Currently we are still in the early phases of production, sire. We will have to produce two or three generations more before we can maintain a stable population and can cull some for food. Given that these early generations will not be eaten, I deemed it was in our best interest to feed the initial breeders a resource that wouldn’t further strain our food reserves, sire.”

“Makes sense,” Zhu repeated.

“Sire, it may also interest you to know that I have been conducting an experiment to assess the edibility of these waste-fed cockroaches. For the past week, I’ve incorporated these cave cockroaches into the diet of five tokai test subjects. So far, none of them have developed any health issues.”

“I am guessing they’re not a fan of the flavor.”

Aldrin sniggered. “No, they aren’t, sire. I am afraid to report that waste-fed cockroaches apparently have a very pungent taste. If they prove to be safe to ingest, I imagine only the slaves and some of the less picky animals could be coerced into eating them.”

“I am sure the zealots and mercenaries will be more willing to try them once they are starving.”

Zhu twisted in place to address the unexpected voice from behind.

“What are you doing here, Sarin?”

“Good day, creator. I have just finished interrogating the prisoner and would like to report some of the information I have extracted from her.”

“Didn’t you say you were going to wait until you mastered her language before you started doing that?”

“I have.”

Zhu's eyes widened.

“What the hell? You only started a few days ago!”

“Two and a half to be exact,” Sarin confirmed proudly.

“More like five,” Aldrin retorted acerbically. “While we are on the subject of time, sire, I have been keeping a record of this world’s rotational period. It appears to be more than twice that of Tannin’s. This world’s two suns remain in the sky for approximately twenty hours each, while its nights are roughly ten.”

“Yeah, that lines up with my observations.” Zhu’s usual grin grew wider as he was reminded of how convenient his new body was. While his minions struggled to acclimate to this world's radically different time zone, so far, he hadn’t required a wink of sleep.

“You sure you don’t need a nap?” Zhu asked, trying not to sound gleeful as he stared at the dark bags beneath Sarin’s eyes. He had been growing concerned about the synth’s hyper-competence and was glad she had at least one weakness. She might have been more intelligent, eloquent, better organized, and an overall superior leader, but as long as she needed sleep and he didn’t, he just might keep up.

“I appreciate your concern, creator, but I am fine and we are pressed for time.” She glanced at Aldrin. “If there is no pressing business between you and Aldrin, would you mind if we speak somewhere else?”

“Sounds good.”

“Lord Zhulong, may I accompany you as well? I’d like to take part in this discussion.”

“Aldrin, aren’t you preoccupied as is? I believe that there are many construction projects that require your assistance.”

“Your lack of faith in the other transmuters is disheartening, Sarin. They do not require my constant supervision and I am due a brief respite. If you’re so concerned about productivity, would it not be preferable for me to be apprised of current events while I rest?”

“I applaud your work ethic, Aldrin. If you need something to occupy your time, I can provide you with the collection of notes I wrote while learning the prisoner’s language. We need more zostian speakers.”

“Why would I waste my time trying to learn that troglodyte language?”

“I don’t see why Aldrin can’t tag along,” Zhulong remarked, putting an end to the argument.

Aldrin flashed the other synth a smug grin. “Thank you, sire.”

Once they reconvened at a less odorous setting, Sarin immediately delved in.

“The prisoner provided us with an extensive amount of information, creator. I recorded it all, of course, but as these documents are rather extensive, I can provide you with a summary of the most pertinent information,” she said, passing him a datapad.

Zhu glanced at the device’s duraglass screen. Although he could read Lunarian now, the device automatically started the slow, laborious process of translating the current file into English. He disabled that unnecessary function and frowned when he looked at the page counter at the bottom. There were hundreds of pages.

“Sounds good,” he said, handing the device back to Sarin. “So what is she exactly?”

“A zeraph, lord. A race of hominids that were bred and altered by a race of mostly extinct creatures known as longs. She claims that you closely resemble members of a high-ranked subtype and decided to come here when a giant fire cast in your likeness manifested above the area.”

“Did that happen when I passed out? I don’t remember any of that.”

“There was a flash of light when we were transported here, creator, but I did not see that phenomenon she spoke of.”

Zhu glanced at Aldrin. “Sarin’s experience was the same as my own, sire. I suspect the prisoner is lying. ”

“I doubt she was. If she had planned to feed us false information, I imagine she would have conceived a less fantastical lie.”

“Yeah, that would be a pretty ballsy thing to make up. Is she just a kook or did any of the other natives see that thing too?”

“She appears to be sane and did in fact state that the phenomenon she witnessed that caused the local sophants to migrate away from our vicinity. Their neighbors apparently persecute them for their loyalty to these longs. The prisoner was, in fact, recently separated from the rest of her people after an attack. According to our scouts, only a hundred individuals remain and have been divided into three main splinter groups. At least two other zeraph tribes exist, but in total they probably number less than six hundred.”

Zhu’s tail rattled. Of course, The Watcher would maroon him in an icy hellhole where everyone hated him. Then again, he did deliberately choose to make his avatar a monstrous snake-dragon-monster-thing, so perhaps that was mostly on him.

While he was thinking to himself, he noticed Sarin glance at the top of his head.

“What’s up?”

“Would you ‌know anything about these longs she spoke of, creator?”

Zhu was not familiar with the foreign word that Sarin uttered, but he suspected he had a good idea of what the prisoner was talking about.

“No, I haven’t,” Zhu lied. “Anyway, if what she says is true, it sounds like she did have peaceful intentions while coming here. If she thinks I look like whatever she thinks I am, maybe we’ll be able to recruit her and the rest of her posse. I know our food situation is still a bit grim, but it might be a good idea to get some locals on our side.”

“I am afraid that the prisoner has realized that you are not a shenlong, sir. Apparently, your voice and your lack of horns gave you away.”

“Well, there goes that idea. Do I really sound that weird?”

“Devourers have very distinct dialects, creator. It can take time for foreigners to get accustomed to your kind’s unique manner of speaking,” Sarin stated diplomatically whilst Aldrin bobbed his head in agreement.

Zhu snorted with amusement. “You can just tell me I sound like a freak. I’m a big boy. Honesty doesn’t bother me.”

“That isn’t the case, creator. I for one, find your voice quite soothing.” Sarin stated earnestly.

“You got shit taste,” Zhu snorted.

“No need to be so modest, sire. Your voice is a melodious lullaby.”

A chill ran up Zhu’s spine.

“Damn, Aldrin! That’s got to be the creepiest thing I’ve ever heard!” Zhu cackled as he hastily scooted away from the transmuter.

“A thousand apologies, sire! I did not mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Just don’t do it again. Guys should not compliment one another. It’s unnatural. Anyway, back on topic. What are the chances lizard chick and her people join us?”

“That is hard to say, creator. From a practical standpoint, attempting to form friendly relations with us would be their only reasonable recourse. They are surrounded by enemies and are on the brink of annihilation. However, the prisoner was disturbed by your resemblance.”

“I’d wager recruiting those savages would be more trouble than it would be worth, sire!” Aldrin spat. “Hominids tend to be physically unimpressive. Judging by their primitive lifestyle, these mutants lack the dexterity or cognitive prowess that offsets that weakness.”

“I disagree. Her kind strikes me as being cunning and resourceful. I believe they would be useful additions to your forces, creator.”

“Sarin, need I remind you of the imminent crisis we are facing? Our food reserves are being depleted at an alarming rate.”

“I am abundantly aware, Aldrin. As a matter of fact, I believe recruiting the zeraphs may provide us a way of getting out of this predicament.”

“How does recruiting hungry mouths lead to us getting more food?”

“She probably would have told us if you let her finish explaining,” Zhu cut in.

“Er, apologies, sire.”

“Man, your back must be sore from all that bowing and scraping. You kind of remind me of one of those toy birds that dunk their faces in the water. Hah! Oh stop it with the sad face, I’m just busting your chops. Finish your thought, Sarin.”

“Thank you, creator. I am afraid to report that, as you predicted, this world appears to be far less fecund than any of the moons that we have encountered.”

“How much so?” Aldrin anxiously inquired.

“By an order of magnitude. Just to articulate the difference, the prisoner estimates it takes about a decade for the local trees to reach maturity and insists that, with a few notable exceptions, this world’s rocks, metals, and minerals are completely incapable of replenishing themselves without divine intervention.”

“My word! What kind of backward lifeless rock have we been stranded on?” Aldrin gasped.

“Hmph. You should check out Mars. Or Venus. Or most other friggin planets.”

Sarin shot Zhu a probing look. “Pardon, creator?”

“Nothing. Just a dumb inside joke. Go on.”

“I see. Given the vast differences between this world and Tannin, I believe we should prioritize gathering intelligence. Our current logistical crisis is a major concern, but the resources we would need to invest to get the zeraphs on our side should be minimal, and the information they would provide may prevent us from making costly mistakes in the future.”

Zhu snapped his fingers as a thought occurred to him. “Oh yeah! Speaking of resources and whatever, I was wondering if little red and her people could send their fancy universe juice my way. If they can really feed gods with that stuff, maybe they could help deal with my constant midnight snacking.”

“I would warrant caution, creator. We do not know how your body would react to qi.”

“Yeah, that’s a fair point. For all we know, it might cause me to explode. Still, I hate the idea of looking past a potential solution because of misplaced worry. Maybe we can have her pass it onto one of the less important animals and see if they suffer any negative effects?”

“I am not entirely sure such a test would guarantee you safety, sire,” Aldrin cautioned. “The physiology of a devourer is words apart from any other creature. Even if a test subject could safely absorb the substance, your body may react differently to it.”

“This body can digest stuff that could melt a dung beetle’s stomach. If a normal animal can safely take that stuff, I should be fine.”

“Very well, creator. In that case, we should leave it to Aldrin to select a suitable test subject. But back to the original topic, the zeraph may also provide useful information on the fortification to our east.”

“Oh, we have civilized neighbors?”

“Indeed. Dirge is currently communicating with a tropeoguera scout. I am sure he’ll provide you a more detailed report later, but apparently, there are a series of several mile-long stone walls built across a nearby isthmus.”

“Infrastructure of that scope would have required a considerable amount of resources to build, especially if the force holding it did not possess any transmuters,” Aldrin remarked. “That is strong evidence that the pastures east of here are indeed greener, sire.”

“But it looks like we’ll have to do some negotiating if we wanna expand eastwards,” Zhu grumbled. “How do the other directions look?”

“Unfortunately, they appear to be less navigable, creator. There are vast mountain ranges to the north, a massive polar desert lies to the west, and the south leads to a frigid ocean. Heading east appears to be the most viable way of finding habitable climates. Assuming the forces stationed on the isthmus are not too formidable, of course.”

“Well, how tough do you think they are?”

“I cannot say, creator.”

Aldrin snorted. “Surely you have at least some idea? Is their garrison large or small? How many cannons and other artillery pieces do they have?”

“The scout's report indicates they outnumber us several times over. No doubt brother Dirge will provide us with a more precise figure soon enough. The scout spotted a dozen ballistas mounted on the section of the wall he observed, but no cannons or other gunpowder weapons.”

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

“If they lack firearms they cannot be too daunting,” Aldrin said dismissively. “They may not even be aware of what gunpowder is, given how unintuitive the recipe is. If they never encountered such weapons, it's unlikely they would have developed walls thick enough to withstand cannon fire.”

“Normally, I would be inclined to agree with you, but it’s hard to determine how formidable an army of undead soldiers would be. I would strongly caution against assuming that they are militarily inferior to us without further information.

Zhu tilted his head. “Undead? You mean like zombies?”

Aldrin was even more incredulous. “Nonsense! That scout must have been hallucinating!”

“I understand your skepticism, Aldrin, but our prisoner’s testimonies corroborate these claims. It would be careless of us to dismiss these claims now that we have two matching testimonies.”

“Well, that’s inconvenient,” Zhu grunted. He was reminded of the horde of shambling abominations he had to deal with shortly before being transported. “What else did she tell you?”

“She also claimed that these undead fighters are commanded by diseased degenerates who revere an entity called Raya. She refers to their leader as the Worm King, an incredibly old hominid of some sort that has been kept alive because of his pact with Raya.”

“This place is fucking weird,” Zhu said with a shake of his head. “Was hoping we could handle this diplomatically, but I doubt we’ll be able to negotiate with a bunch of Halloween horrors. Not sure fighting would be a good idea considering the climate. Maybe we can just build a few boats, sail around them, and plop down a portal somewhere far away from there.”

“I do not believe that would be a practical option, sire,” Aldrin grimaced. “It would take quite some time to build a harbor and a fleet of ships, especially if we have to limit our consumption of heart stones.”

“I would also caution against naval travel. There is at least one semi-aquatic titan that lives in this region and more may be lurking in these oceans.”

Zhu rattled his tail. “There’s a fucking titan here? How the hell is it able to survive in this shit hole?”

“I am not sure, creator. The prisoner claims this one has lived in this region for at least a century. It spends most of its life in the water, but every four years it hauls itself onto land for several months.”

“Huh. Sounds like there might be a decent amount of biomass in the ocean if they can support a titan. Too bad we don’t have any boats we could use to harvest those waters. Maybe if we put down this titan, we can use it as a foraging spot. So what kind of monster are we dealing with here?”

“It bears a superficial resemblance to the grootslang, though it is carnivorous and somewhat smaller.”

“A meat-eater that’s nearly as big as a friggin grootslang? That’s pretty friggin absurd. You said it looks kind of similar too? It's got a long neck and a small head?”

“That is correct, creator.”

Zhu stroked his barbels in thought. He grinned wickedly as a plan formed in his head. “Then I think I know the perfect way to kill it! Aldrin, gather a team of transmuters and get them to start crafting some giant chain shot.”

“Understood, sire!”

“Hopefully, nessie is the only titan around, but we’ll scrap the sailing idea for now. Anyway, it’s probably a good idea to wait until Dirge gives us more details on the zombies before we start brainstorming ways of dealing with them. Good talk. I’m gonna head out. ”

******

Shrike was prepared to die.

She wasn’t going out happily or without regrets, but she saw no way out of her predicament. Ever since Sarin mastered zostian, she had badgered Shrike for information and her questions were getting progressively more difficult to answer. Her father’s memories had aided her greatly, but the bulk of his vast recollections flickered beyond the edges of her consciousness. The last time Sarin interrogated her, more than a hundred empty "uh’s" and "I don’t knows" must have spilled past her lips.

So far, Sarin had not requested any information that could be weaponized against Shrike’s people, but she doubted that would last. Oh sure, Sarin may have released her from cell and was courteous to a fault, but that affability was precisely why Shrike did not trust her.

The lamia was an unnaturally talented speaker. She always seemed to know what to say and how to say it, never stuttering or stumbling over her words no matter how long she spoke. It was as if she had rehearsed every single line she uttered, and Shrike knew without a doubt that a thousand devious schemes hid behind her serene smile.

When Zhulong barged into Shrike’s temporary living quarters, she assumed he decided she had outlived her usefulness. She stood up and glared at him defiantly.

Maintaining her bravado was proving to be even more difficult than she thought. As with their previous encounters, the depraved reptile blatantly undressed her with his mismatched eyes. She shuddered beneath his attention, almost wishing that his hungry leer was of a more literal kind.

He cackled at her discomfort but, to her relief, directed his eyes away from her chest.

“Hey little red, how have you been enjoying your stay here?”

Shrike glared at him.

“Yeah, figured as much. You got the right to be miffed considering we locked your ass up, but at least you’re free now! Kind of. Sort of. Not really.”

Shrike’s glower only amused him.

“I am sure you realize that you're still basically a prisoner, but we aren’t detaining you just for shits and giggles. You wouldn’t believe the number of times somebody tried attacking this place. I am sure you didn’t have any nasty intentions when you were ogling the place, but we’ve got to do our due diligence. Sarin told me you've been very cooperative, so I think it’s only fair that we give you some r&r. I’m going to go check on some of my pets. You wanna come?”

Visions of Shrike being fed to ferocious beasts flashed through her head. She shook her head and wedged herself into the corner.

Zhulong seemed to pick up on her reservations. “Or if you’d prefer, you can give the base a look around. You’ll have to be escorted by guards to make sure you don’t wander into any restricted areas, but otherwise, you’ll have free run of the place.”

After a protracted silence, Shrike stood up with a sigh. There was nothing she could do if he was intent on killing her. But on the off chance Zhulong truly wished to befriend her people, as Sarin claimed, her behavior was leaving a poor impression on a powerful ally. She chose to go along with Zhulong, reasoning that she would have plenty of opportunities to explore the fortress if he was being sincere.

Parabellum’s main stable was surprisingly clean. Naturally, with so many creatures dwelling within a single enclosed structure, it was impossible to eliminate the odor that wafted throughout the building’s interior, but Shrike was so captivated by the vast menagerie on display she scarcely noticed their scent.

“First floor is where we keep our heaviest hitters. The smallest animals down here probably weigh around five tons.”

Shrike glanced at the creatures Zhulong pointed out, but her eyes were quickly drawn back to one of its biggest.

“That’s Captain Crunch, my personal tarrasque. Though, I suppose all of them are mine now. Might wanna keep your distance. We’ve put him on a diet recently.”

Zhulong rubbed the titanic reptile’s snout and offered it a femur that was as long as a man was tall. Shrike got a good idea how Captain Crunch got his name when he effortlessly demolished the treat. The tarrasque grumbled happily as Zhulong continued to pet him, but Shrike didn’t miss the hungry leer it sent her way.

Zhulong didn’t linger around the monstrous creature for too much longer, voicing his intent to take her to the roof. Though he was not in such a rush to get there, that he neglected to introduce her to every animal they came across. Shrike had pegged the false long as scattered-brained and oafish but revised her opinion when he easily recalled every creature’s name. What was more astounding than his memory was the preposterous names he and his fellows had come up with. Out of all the bizarre monikers she heard, FlufflePuffle stuck out the most. Partly because said eighteen-foot-tall dinosaur broke out of its enclosure and refused to return until Zhulong brushed its feathery tail.

Shrike’s excitement dropped each time they ascended another set of ramps. The higher they went, the smaller the creatures became. While many of the more modest sized creatures were fascinating in their own right, they simply couldn’t project the awe the monsters on the first floor exuded. Shrike was on autopilot by the time they moved past the second-highest floor and its diminutive occupants. She was imagining what it would be like to ride on a kasai rex, when a viper-like head lunged through a doorway leading to the building's top floor.

“Shit!” If Shrike had backed up just another step, she would have tumbled down the ramp. Zhulong affectionately tweaked the excited creature’s frills.

“What are you doing out of your pen, Pathogen? Back up, so we can get inside.”

The reptile did as it was told, but Shrike did not enter. Zhulong glanced in her direction.

“You don’t need to worry about Pathogen. She’s my favorite poison wyvern and the best behaved. Watch out for the cockatrices though. They might swallow you whole.”

“Noted,” she grunted, keeping a wary gaze on the towering stork-like pterosaurs.

“I remember the way your jaw dropped that time me and Pathogen dropped down to meet you. Figured you would want to go out for a spin.”

Shrike fervently nodded, all of her previous caution thrown to the wind.

“Heh. Thought so.” Zhulong pointed at a cluster of humanoid synth attendants. “You know the drill. You three open the roof hatch and lower the lift. The rest of you, bring me a saddle. Oh, and a belly pouch too.”

Shrike looked on in befuddlement as Zhulong wrapped himself around the strange throne that they strapped to Pathogen’s back, unsure as to where she would be sitting. Then, to her horror, Zhulong strapped what appeared to be an oversized baby carrier over his cuirass and beckoned her to climb inside it.

“It’s soft and warm!” Zhulong sang, eye ridges waggling. When she refused to take his hand, he shrugged nonchalantly. “Suit yourself, but you’re not flying unless you're snug and secure.”

Scowling, Shrike looked around the room. To her surprise, the hangar’s attendants were not snickering at her expense. If anything, they seemed to envy her. Sighing, she accepted Zhulong’s outstretched hand and allowed him to tuck her inside of the pouch.

“Hah, you're even lighter than I thought you’d be. Alright, kind of important to know that air gets thinner the higher you go. I don’t plan on flying too high, but give me an elbow if you ever feel light-headed. Alright, let's get going. Raise the lift.”

Shrike’s embarrassment was almost forgotten as the lift carried them up. Pathogen, just as eager to fly as she was, took off running. Built more like a winged tyrannosaurus than a bat or pterosaur, the poison wyvern required a running start to get into the air. She leaped off the building. For a few terrifying heartbeats, gravity’s disapproving grasp pulled them down. Then, just before Shrike unleashed an undignified scream, Pathogen’s beating wings generated enough lift to carry them upward. The wyvern continued to climb until they were a thousand feet above the ground.

“Enjoying the view?”

Shrike was too enraptured to respond. From this height, the Fringe’s harsh landscape was utterly mesmerizing.

Raucous squawks disturbed her sightseeing. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw a squad of tropeogueras desperately trying to catch up to them. Their efforts were in vain. Fleet as they were, Pathogen was on another level. She could cover two body lengths' worth of ground in a single second.

“Looks like I got my minions in a tizzy,” Zhulong grunted. “Go back to base,” he ordered. “We’ll be back soon.” Without checking to see whether his followers adhered to his command, he steered Pathogen towards one of the many gently sloping mountains that dotted the landscape. “Have to cut the joyride short, but before we go, we're going to nab some food first. Sic em, Pathogen!”

The last exclamation was the only warning Shrike received before Pathogen folded her wings against her side and dove towards the mountain top. Shrike wasn’t able to suppress her screams this time. Her panic proved contagious. Below them, a herd of foraging bighorn sheep scattered in all directions.

Pathogen hissed, displeased that her ambush was spoiled. Her master took it in stride.

“Settle down, little red,” Zhulong chortled. “You don’t wanna accidentally bite your tongue off.”

Turning her dive into a swoop, Pathogen homed in on a robust ram. Her powerful talons closed around the bleating animal’s back, crushing his spine in an instant. His carcass dangled from her left foot as she chased down another stocky male.

Pathogen dropped her two victims and continued to pick off other members of the herd. Sling in hand, Zhu lobbed fist-sized rocks at the fleeing animals. Most of the deadly projectiles went wide, but one caved in a young ewe’s temple.

The duo continued to hunt until they had brought down dozens of animals. Shrike surveyed their carnage grimly. Her clan rarely killed more than two or three large animals at a time. Seeing so many bodies piled in one place felt terribly wasteful. Her grimace deepened when Pathogen devoured three sheep in rapid succession.

Zhulong helped himself to a lamb that he had skinned and gutted. She watched him bite into it a leg and tear off a chunk of flesh with a violent swing of his neck.

“My guys can’t cook for shit,” the false long told her. “Good thing I got a taste for raw meat. Tastes better than sushi. Shame that there are only pink bloods around here. We always need heart stones.”

When Zhulong sank his tusks into the sheep’s head, Shrike decided that a distant boulder deserved her attention. It did not hold it for long. She tensed when her keen eyes caught a flash of motion. Her subtle movement alerted Pathogen.

Zhulong slithered over to the hissing wyvern’s side. “What’s up, Pathogen?”

When she continued to bare her fangs and flare her frills, Zhulong called out, “Whoever is skulking over there come on out. Pathogen doesn’t like peeping toms. I suggest you either introduce yourselves or scram unless you wanna choke on the mother of all poots.”

Three stocky figures dressed in fur robes scampered out of cover and retreated down the mountain. One mustered enough bluster to turn around and spit in Zhulong’s direction.

“Wretched dragon! You and your foul minions will soon regret the day you were spawned! Shiagaur’s roar echoes across the lands! Soon we will muster a mighty horde that will tear down your metal city and paint the snow with your blood!”

Shrike chucked a stone at the ranting luddite, just barely missing him. The man took off after his two companions.

Zhulong, who did not share her enmity for luddites and could not comprehend the speaker’s threats, casually stroked his barbels.

“Huh, those guys look like neanderthals, but last time I checked, they’re not supposed to be green.”

“They are luddites. Shiagaur is quick to form covenants with anyone that forsakes civilization and bestows the green blessing on most of her long-term followers,” Shrike explained, then clucked her tongue when she remembered Zhulong couldn’t understand her.

Zhulong shrugged. “Eh, I am sure Sarin will fill me in later. In any case, it looks like the locals are not keen on sharing, so I think it’s time to bounce.”

Shrike grimaced when Zhulong produced a bizarre pufferfish-like creature from his belt.

“Open wide, Squishy.”

She jumped back when the deformed conjuror opened a pocket dimension. Once Zhulong stuffed the sheep into its inventory, they winged their way back to Parabellum.

The return trip was considerably less pleasant than their initial flight. Zhulong had gotten a considerable amount of blood on his passenger vest, with some of it seeping inside the pouch. Still, sticky and uncomfortable as her seat had become, Shrike remained enamored with the sky’s beauty. If it were up to her, they would have never landed, except to clean the vest, or better yet, find a more dignified way of keeping her secured.

Sadly, Zhulong made it clear during his nonstop and aimless rambling that he had no intention of taking her on any more flights today. Even if he had, it was unlikely that Sarin would have let him. The lamia had been waiting for them on the roof. As usual, she was wearing a graceful smile, but Shrike swore she glimpsed a hint of steel in the synth's eyes.

“Did you enjoy your trip?”

“It was alright. Came across some green manlets while we were snagging some meat. So far, the mountains seem to be the only place with a decent amount of game, but the sheep will be wiped out in half a month at the rate we’re going through them.”

“Is that so? Forgive me for my impertinence, but may we speak in private?”

“You’re going to nag me, aren’t you?”

“Apologies, but we must address your tendency to venture outside without guards.”

Shrike, who had been trying to climb out of Zhulong’s passenger vest, let out a surprised squeak when he lifted her by her armpits.

“Nag shield!” he quipped, hiding behind Shrike as best as a hulking reptile could hide behind a scarcely five-foot-tall woman.

To Zhulong’s dismay, his subordinate lectured him anyway.

“May I ask why you felt the need to venture out into the wilderness with the zeraph?”

“Figured little red would enjoy taking Pathogen out for a spin.” He gently lowered Shrike to the ground but kept a hand placed on her shoulder. The zeraph’s presence may not have saved him from a lecture, but he figured that keeping her around might shorten it.

“That was very magnanimous of you and I am sure she appreciated the gesture, but I strongly suggest you refrain from going on these foraging trips. We could delegate those tasks to a synth, preferably one of our ambulatory conjurers. Gorath, perhaps?”

“Naw. I like spending time with Pathogen.”

“I see. Could you perhaps entertain the idea of taking guards with you during these outings?”

“No.”

“I must insist—”

Zhulong cut off her protests with a raised hand. “Look, your and everyone else's dedication is touching and all, but it's unnecessary and downright creepy sometimes. I know you're just looking out for my safety or whatever, but if this constant coddling doesn’t stop, I am going to blow my brains out.”

“Never say that again!”

Shrike stiffened. She may not have been able to understand what Sarin said, but the heat in her words had been impossible to miss.

Thankfully, Zhulong quickly defused the situation. “Just a figure of speech, sheesh. Now, is there anything else you wanna badger me about? If not, I am going to skedaddle.”

“Yes, there is something else I would like to address. It would, however, be prudent to dismiss our guest before we proceed.” Sarin suggested, refraining from glancing in Shrike’s direction or changing the volume of her voice.

“Does this topic concern her?” Zhulong asked as he pointed at Shrike.

The tip of Sarin’s tail twitched ever so slightly. “It does.”

“Then I am pretty sure I know what you want to talk about,” he turned towards Shrike, inviting her into the discussion. “Yo, little red, I got a proposition for you.”

“Zhulong,” Sarin urgently interjected. “I already have a—”

Zhulong cut Sarin off again. “Sarin, you’re a smart cookie, but sometimes that’s to your detriment. You’re always trying to map out a perfect plan for everything, but sometimes simple is best. I was planning on having this talk after lunch, but we might as well get this over with.” He cleared his throat and launched into his pitch.

“We wanna form an alliance with your people, and I want you to help me win them over. I am sure you’re still annoyed about the whole imprisoning you against your will thing, but let’s be real, you guys are screwed without our help. So, do yourself a favor and get over it. Join up with us and you won’t have to worry about starving, frostbite, or getting jumped by angry green gingers anymore. If you guys can pull your weight, like I suspect you can, we might be able to get out of this icy shithole by the end of the month. Now, don’t bother giving me an answer now, because of course, you’ll say yes. I know I am holding all the cards right now, and I’m sure you're afraid I’ll crack your head open if you tell me no. I promise I won’t, so think over what I said and give me an answer by the end of the week. If you don’t like what I am throwing down, I’ll reunite you with your posse and leave you guys alone, no strings attached.”

Zhulong, having laid out everything he wanted to say, dismissed Shrike with a wave of his hand. He cocked his head in surprise when she laughed aloud.

“Am I supposed to be grateful because you are offering me a ‘choice’?” Shrike’s stomach churned, but she pressed on. She was sick of kowtowing to her captors.

“You said it yourself, my people are doomed without your aid. I am not an idiot. I know that you’re pretending to give me a choice to trick me into thinking your offer is sweeter than it is. Do you think you have won me over just because you took me flying? I have seen your slaves. Something tells me you would have already been slapping my people in chains if you didn’t need as much as we need you. How am I to know you won’t make slaves of us once we are no longer needed?”

She turned to level an accusing stare at Sarin. “Whenever I spoke with that silver-tongued schemer, she showered me with pretty words and compliments, but I could tell that she saw me as an easily duped savage dancing in the palms of her hands. I am not a toy to be played with. If you only seek to use my people, then I would prefer that they die free instead of living under your yoke.”

Shrike's mouth was dry and her heart raced, but a feeling of exultation fluttered through her chest now that her tongue had shaped the words she had longed to utter.

To her annoyance, Sarin appeared serene as usual. Zhulong’s confounded expression was of some consolation.

“Sarin, be a dear and provide me a word-for-word translation.”

A dozen different expressions flashed across his face as the synth repeated what Shrike had said.

“You were right, Sarin. I should have let you handle this after all.” He shrugged and let out a self-deprecating laugh. “But you know what they say about spilled milk.”

He leaned down to look Shrike in the eye. “I might try to learn zostian if the rest of your people are as ballsy as you. You’re right. I was positive that I had you by the ovaries. But for what it’s worth, I meant what I said about you being able to tell me no. I am not interested in enslaving your people. As a matter of fact, I am thinking about freeing the ones that I’ve already got.”

For the second time that day, Sarin’s mask cracked. She stared at her leader with wide eyes.

“Pardon?”

“You heard me. Didn’t mean to spring this idea on you right now, but it’s been on my mind for a while. This is a new era. Big changes are going to need to be made, and this is one of them.”

Shrike studied Zhulong’s face. The false long could have been putting on an act, but—to her own surprise—she believed him. Thinking back on it, he had always been ridiculously candid with her, often to his detriment. At first, she chalked this self-sabotaging behavior to sheer stupidity, but now she suspected that he simply did not care to mask his ambitions or intentions.

Sarin was less appreciative of this behavioral quirk. She blew on a whistle, summoning a pair of ophidian soldiers that came up the lift.

“Take the zeraph back to her quarters.”

Zhulong reached out to Shrike. “Don’t leave me, nag shield!”

The ophidians halted upon hearing this countermand, but Sarin was firm and he was not.

“Apologies creator, but we must also address your habit of leaking confidential information to outsiders.”

Shrike bit her lip to stifle a laugh. She almost felt bad for the false long, who at that moment resembled a whelp being scolded by his mother.