by J. F. Lewis
“Any time.” Orhrya returned the gesture, marveling at Kazan. “You’re one of the Armored?”
“Second of One Hundred,” Kazan said.
“Vander?” Orhrya asked.
“My maker has ascended.” Eyes of Vengeance turned to Kazan. Are you ready, sir?
Ready?
Rae’en sent me to collect you and your fellow Overwatches.
When Rae’en entered Bloodmane, the warsuit opened to accept her, wrapping around her body in an effortless opening and enfolding. Eyes of Vengeance peered down at his new rightful occupant. No emotions flowed off of him as a hint. Assuming he wanted Kazan to don him, Kazan could not think of how to go about starting such a process without point-blank asking, and that was an irkanth’s trail down which Kazan was not certain he wanted to track.
I shall continue aloud for the benefit of the Vael, if you are amenable, Eyes thought.
Sure.
“I am your warsuit,” Eyes said, as if he could sense Kazan’s thoughts—and it was possible the armor had done so. “You must begin to think of me that way. When you want to don me, I should know, through our bond. But, in hope that it may aid you to see our relationship as I do—” Eyes removed one of his gauntlets, slapping it into Kazan’s hand. “If you find it acceptable, sir, I would prefer that we become one the way Vander did upon the first donning.”
“Of . . . of course, Eyes. However you like.”
“Would you be so kind as to assist me, Orhrya.” Eyes gestured with an empty arm at the warsuits reinforcing the Zaur barricade. “My brother warsuits are occupied by other tasks.”
“I’d be honored.” Orhrya bowed deeply and, rising, began to disassemble Eyes of Vengeance in accordance with the warsuit’s personal instruction. Though, to Kazan, it looked like she already knew what she was doing.
“You don’t have—” Kazan said.
“Hush.” Orhrya stopped his mouth with a light touch of the back of her hand, turning herself to the work before her without further instruction or guidance from Kazan or Eyes of Vengeance. Piece by piece, Eyes of Vengeance came apart under the Vael’s hands, each section lying still, quiet, unassuming on the scorched and turf-torn forest floor. If any component held the semblance of life, it was the helm, crystals alight, pulsing to the beat of Kazan’s heart.
She drew the last piece, the gauntlet Eyes had handed Kazan, and set it in place before turning to Kazan himself, her hands gliding across his mail, tugging it up over his head and dropping it to the ground. Taking a canteen from her belt, she poured the water over him, rubbing his skin clean with her hands, the winter bark was abrasive to most races but pleasantly textured to an Aern. Her scent, like a fir tree high on a mountain ledge, wreathed him, quickening his breath, stirring in him feelings he had not allowed himself the time to feel before, when he had been busy being Second.
He saw Orhrya as the sensuous being she was, made all the more alluring by her skills as a warrior, her strength, her confidence. Laughing wryly, Orhrya smiled, the expression catching his gaze as it spread all the way to Orhrya’s eyes. Harsh and pure, her laugh cut through the tension between them, bringing the world back in and letting his attention return to the larger world, but not all of it. He would never be able to be in her presence without noticing again.
“We can mate later,” Orhrya told him, “or we could if you were still going to be here. My guess is you are needed elsewhere, Second of One Hundred.”
Mate?! Kazan knew the stories of how shocking a Vael’s casual approach to physical intimacy, particularly with the Aern, could be. Licentious tales relating exactly that seemed to be a rite of passage among Sixteens. Joose had even managed to talk one of the Armored into sharing a memory that, even thinking about it, made Kazan blush. Vael were known to have very flirtatious humors, too, though, so did Orhrya mean that she wanted to be with him, or was she just being polite?
What if she did mean it and he spurned the offer? Would he be offending her? What if the queen found out and took—?
“Ahem.” Eyes of Vengeance’s voice and thoughts lost none of their deep reverberation outside despite the warsuit’s current state of disassembly.
“Sorry,” Orhrya and Kazan said together. She laughed again. Kazan flushed a deeper bronze in embarrassment.
Orhrya bent to her work, handling the armor with reverence similar to a God Speaker handling a shard of their deity’s crystal. Kazan started as the warsuit molded to his form, as if it had been forged for him.
“I thought all Aern were used to the ways of warsuits.” Orhrya chuckled.
“Only around five percent of us have ever been in the presence of a warsuit.” Kazan held his breath as Orhrya leaned close, arms reaching around him to fasten straps that would vanish once the warsuit was whole.
“Care to guess how many of my people have met an Aern, much less a warsuit?”
“Then how do you—?”
“This?” She smiled. “Oh, my great-to-some-degree grandmother was one of Vander’s wives. Every generation of her descendants has at least one sproutling who looks just like her. I have always known how Eyes of Vengeance likes to be taken on and off when there is time to do things properly. It is not coincidence that I’m here. I thought the memories were passed down, too, when an Aern took the place of an Armored.”
“Not this time.”
A warsuit had preferences like that? They were alive, with their own personalities, and Kazan knew that, but that they might have habits and quirks like beings with bone metal and blood was new to him. How much about the warsuits was taken for granted?
Orhrya’s scent grew stronger with each piece of Eyes fastened into place, as if it carried her smell. Another thing he’d taken for granted popped into his head and out of his mouth. “I thought all Vael smelled like Royal Hedge Roses.”
“The more floral of us smell like that all of the time.” Orhrya paused, letting her palm rest against his breastplate, the sensation no different than if her hand were bare upon his chest. Did she know that? Battlefield forgotten, Overwatches forgotten, the world had narrowed to three beings: Kazan and Eyes of Vengeance, two beings who had become truly become one gestalt entity for the first time, and Orhrya, the Vael warrior whom they (both?) desired.
Veins and synapses pulsed with an electrical jolt of spirit as Orhrya lowered the helm into place.
Whole, Eyes of Vengeance thought to him. I feared I would never feel this way again.
I have never felt this comfortable in my own skin before, Kazan thought to his armor.
You’ve never worn me before.
Before them stood the same Orhrya he had met so briefly before, but now a thousand memories washed over him, Eyes of Vengeance’s memories, of a long-withered Vael so kind and loving, the first female that Vander, and therefore, Eyes, had ever loved in a pure emotional way. A tear ran down Kazan’s cheek when the first Orhrya died in his mind, killed by an Eldrennai with whom she refused to—
Do not focus on that emotion. Eyes of Vengeance wove calming thoughts in with the words. She died long before the Sundering, and we paid that debt.
Show me, Kazan thought.
*
It was less than a candlemark after the king freed the Aern with his careless breach of promise. Vander directed the battle, sending instructions, updating maps, fighting when he had to, reaching through other Aern to assist as needed. Then he’d seen the knight who’d slain Orhrya.
Gravand, one of the few non-royals who held mastery over two branches of elemancy, Geomancy and Aeromancy, led his lance in charge after charge, never touching the ground, hurling rocks and lightning, even gusts of gale-force wind.
Vander, Kholster had thought, I can’t see Wylant. Is she—?
Flew for Fort Sunder, from what I saw, Vander thought. Okkust and Scout had a go at her, but she threw her horse at them with a blast of wind and took their arms off while they were pinned.
Their arms? Kholster laughed. Where’d she put them?
She dropped
them atop the Tower of Elementals when she flew past. Vander had hoped he sounded like he cared, but instead, he was switching through the viewpoints of soldiers nearest Gravand, looking for an opportunity to strike.
He found it three times, sending unArmored Aern to their deaths for a chance at the Eldrennai knight before taking direct control of the fourth. Fourth was Aster, one of Kholster’s daughters. He touched her mind and hesitated. She could do it, Vander had had no doubt of that, but was risking a female worth revenge?
Don’t be stupid, Second, Aster thought at him. You have a target in mind, point me at it.
He painted Gravand in orange, reaching out to take control, but Aster rebuffed him. Don’t kholster a kholster, Overwatch. Keep my battle map up to date and stay out of my way.
Warpick on her back, Aster grabbed two dead Eldrennai, pulling the heads from the corpses with a sound like a wet rag ripping.
Silently observing her orders to the rest of her kholstering, Vander tracked the assignments she gave to her Aern. Making themselves easy targets at one point, then hard ones at another, they guided Gravand near the edge of the western tower. The first head hurled at him from the tower parapet. He batted it aside with the wind, sending a lightning bolt along the route it had traveled. The second head made him angry, but right behind it came Aster’s warpick.
Gravand dropped to avoid the weapon, cursing as he flew further back, his back scraping across the Central tower.
“Kill her,” Gravand shouted, dispatching three of his lance at the tower from which the projectiles had been thrown. He noticed the shadow, eyes looking up, mouth open, as Aster fell on him, head-butting his nose, breaking both it and his concentration in one move.
Within the tower, two of Aster’s kholstering slaughtered the three elven knights. Vander knew it, tracked it, but he only had eyes for Kholster’s daughter as she rode the elf down, Gravand dead and bleeding before he came close to the ground. Aster terribly wounded, unable to move after impact.
Wylant’s destruction of the Life Forge had ended the life of Aster and every Aern she had kholstered, but Vander then and Eyes of Vengeance now, wondered how Kholster would have viewed the sequence of events if the unArmored had survived and Aster’s eventual death had been on Vander’s hands. Both felt they knew what he would have thought, but what exactly would he have whispered to himself in those quiet hours when he remembered?
*
All of that took two blinks to pass through Kazan’s mind’s eye. He felt lost, out of place, disconnected from the battle, from the Vael before him, from the present.
You were flirting with Orhrya, Eyes prompted. You had mentioned your misconception regarding the predominant scent of all Vael.
“We arboreal types,” Orhrya stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the helm, “smell like roses sometimes, too. If you’re lucky, you’ll find out when.”
The kiss brought with it the image of an Aern infant, presenting her in stages, an infant morphing into an Eleven then a full-grown female, a twin of Rae’en, undeniable Incarna.
“A girl-type person and an Incarna.” Orhrya thumped him on the forehelm. “We ought to make that one, but not today and . . .” Moving backward in series of quicksteps, the Vael retreated from the Armored and his warsuit. “ . . . and not when we both have fighting to do. You don’t need my protection any longer, so my work is done here. When the fighting is over, come visit me at the Twins.”
A shrill whistle signaled the withdrawal of the group of Root Guard.
“But . . .” Kazan scanned the layout of the battle. Fighting all but over, Zaur and Vael alike had untangled their forces. Brazz and the lead Vael stood off to one side of the battle, huddled over one of the Vael’s living maps. Tyree and Cadence stood near them, advising, Cadence about her knowledge of recent news from Castleguard and Tyree about which tunnels he knew to be impassable now or compromised. Waves of a contradictory sets of data flowed at him from Captain Tyree. All appeared to be well, but it was not.
Eyes, Kazan thought, how long were we, um . . . ?
Occupied with ourselves and a beautiful Vael warrior?
Yes.
Half a candlemark, Eyes of Vengeance told him. Scout has just brought me up to date on what we missed.
Data shot through Kazan in rapid succession, absorbed, annotated, and disseminated as needed:
1. Rae’en’s novel ascent approach: The strength of an unArmored Aern could limit the length of such uses, but it was a tactic to keep in the sheath for those patrolling Scarsguard. Note: Could strips of bone metal be embedded into the exterior surface of the newly built fortifications to allow rapid ascent and descent for those outside the wall in the case of a siege? He calculated the amount of bone metal required, dropping a request into the queue for Rae’en’s future review and the Ossuary’s approval.
2. Queen Bash: Her people had conveyed information to her rapidly and without alerting the Aern to the communication. Knowing Mazik had been the first to spot the new dragon gave him the data point to review. Triangulating the location of all Aiannai in the vicinity using the viewpoints of all relevant Overwatches showed him the sequence of flashes Mazik had sent as well as the Aiannai who had been watching for the signal. He dropped it into the minds of Rae’en’s personal Overwatches to be decoded.
3. The telescope: Design noted, he guessed its relative magnification from the detail level Queen Bhaeshal appeared to possess.
4. Amber’s view of the dragon and the god’s head: Bird squirt!
Batting his eyelashes at him from his spot near Brazz, Tyree widened his eyes and nodded as if to comment on the thoughts and agree. Kazan opened his mouth to speak to Brazz, but then it was Cadence’s turn to lock gazes with him. A subtle shake of her head warned him off. But why? What had the humans sensed that he had not?
He studied Brazz again and reversed his decision about asking the Flamefang for advice. Warleader Tsan had produced a threat display the Aern could not match. Telling the Sri’Zaur about it now . . . Kazan could not be sure they’d give advice rather than attack him and his fellow Overwatches.
Even with the eleven warsuits present, it was an avoidable risk.
He located Joose, M’jynn, and Arbokk on his map. Two of them had gone far enough away that he had to zoom out to find them. M’jynn and Joose were off to the north with Kuort and the horse, Alberta.
Guys?
Tyree says we need to go, M’jynn thought, and take Kuort with us.
Why?
They stood around, staring at the dead lizard, Joose thought, and then Cadence jumped away from him like he was on fire and made of spiders.
“Nice talking to you, flame belly,” Tyree purred, “but it looks like my current employer wants a word or two with me and the missus.”
Cadence glared at him for that, but any irregularity seemed lost on the old Flame Tongue. Kazan felt a murmuring at the base of his neck. Tyree and Cadence were talking to each other with some form of Long Speech, but it was not clear enough for Kazan to make out. With a muttered, “Fine, but hurry,” Cadence walked away in the general direction of Joose, M’jynn, Alberta, and Kuort.
“You are, of course,” Brazz said, drawing near, “welcome to stay with us as we continue to clear the dead from the forest, but this mint-breathed human claims you are needed elsewhere. A claim . . .” Brazz spat at Tyree’s feet, the ground hissing and popping where his expectorant fell, “made more believable by the presence of warsuits.”
“Duty calls, doesn’t it, boss?” Smile plastered on his face, but warning clear as day in his eyes, the human clapped Kazan on the shoulder so hard Eye of Vengeance’s bone-steel surely had to have injured the human’s hand.
Cadence saw something, Tyree’s thoughts came faint, but clear.
Kazan stopped himself from replying aloud and tipping their hand to the Sri’Zaur. What could she see? The woman had known he and the others would be in trouble and camped there ahead of time to aid them. Discounting her abilities was as stupid as the
way the Eldrennai had underestimated the Vael for so long, just because they were pretty to look at.
Round everyone up and let’s head to Fort Sunder, Kazan thought to his local Overwatches.
“Fine. Lead the way,” he said to Tyree. “I don’t like the idea of you skulking around behind me.”
Brazz chuckled, a sound like a rasping bellows, as he walked back to the Vael and her living map.
“Well?” Kazan asked.
“Don’t put on too good of an act.” Eyes positively glimmering with mischief, the human steepled his hands and bowed before leading the way.
CHAPTER 20
SOMETIMES YOU DIE
Gray and overcast with cloud cover so thick midmorning felt indistinguishable from the edge of night, the day filled itself with cold and damp as if it knew what dark work was being done and could not but comment upon the horror covering the once-peaceful land of Holsven. Air spirits dropped Yavi without warning not because of a heavy heart, but because they had become mean and spiteful, winter gusts emboldened by the many deaths and the walking corpses resulting from them. Her current escort tossed her skyward and vanished with a cruel look in its translucent eyes.
“Dol—” she began, but he was already below, waiting to catch her like a faithful steed ready to be mounted.
I don’t think I’ll share that analogy with him, she thought, her ears twitching involuntarily as she cringed in expectation of Dolvek’s ruined voice.
“Are winter’s air spirits usually this capricious?” Dolvek asked hoarsely, like air wheezing from a poorly mended bellows.
“Not the ones I know.” Yavi found it troubling. Events in the physical world affected the spirits, but it often took time and repetition, the passing of many years before they began to reflect tragedy. Beings of water and stone behaved properly, but the wind acted as if it were angry with her personally. Cold bit more deeply than it should have, too, chilling her so obviously that Dolvek insisted she accept his cloak, claiming that he could warm himself his Pyromancy, but that he could not safely keep her warm in the same way.
