The next deviation in their journey was the lowering sun, and its tendency to dip behind hills that were growing in size, developing sharper points, stretching into mountains. In this transformation the group was forced up steep slopes that slowed their pace.
Axen called for a stop again, ordering Kire to do another sweep.
The Reborn completed only a single sky wide arc before he came crashing back down, his descent a rapid spiral. He slammed into the ground as a human, words spilling out of his lips as fast as his tongue could move.
âBandits ahead, theyâre set for an ambush and flanking to pick offââ
Kire was cut off by a strangled scream turned gurgle as the first of the townspeople was shot. The rain of arrows came from three archers perched on the hillside, clad in shaggy coats of dried grass, faces coated in mud.
Theo slid back down the slope to the townspeople, ripping rock out of the ground as she moved and dragging it upwards into a makeshift barricade.
Daniel wondered for a moment the purpose of attacking the townspeople, poorly armed as they were, they were clearly the lesser threat. But as he retreated back to help Theo, he realized separating the party was exactly their goal. A rugged gray sphere was thrown over the top of the steep hillside, crashing at the feet of the Crawlers and setting off a thick plume of black smoke that choked out the head of the group.
Panic crawled in his throat, but he kept moving down the hill, partially running, partially sliding, to get to the barricade with Theo.
Fortunately, his fear had underestimated the party as much as the bandits had.
Two things happened simultaneously.
First, Kire launched himself out of the cloud of smoke, having taken the form of a massive reptile. It was no dragon, more akin to a long-limbed alligator, but its staggering size earned cries of fear and prayer from the archers it fell towards. He crashed into the hillside, taking the archers to the ground and slamming his massive paws into their chests again and again, until the grass was more red than green.
The second was a great plume of fire, shot straight up the path in the direction they were heading. Daniel could hear the screams of the first bandit caught in its blaze, but the fire served a much more important purpose. The sudden rush of heat disrupted the air flow of the narrow path, and the smoke cleared with relative ease.
Without the smoke, five charging bandits were revealed, roaring various cries at the Crawlers they stormed. Axen caught the firstâs blade with his own, momentum carrying the enemy swordsmen into a clash of metal that screeched harshly.
But the banditâs sword was poorly made, its hilt a mere wrapping of leather with no notable guard to speak of, and Axen sliced straight down, cutting deep into the manâs fingers. Pain made the bandit rear back, but Axen caught him with a forward step of his heavy metal boot, crushing the otherâs foot beneath his own.
Another bandit was caught in a leg sweep by Mayline, her skull cracking against the stone path before her head was severed in a clean swipe by Henyaâs mighty battle axe.
But Danielâs most recent glance backwards was his last, as he reached Theoâs barricade at the same time two bandits did.
Theo ripped rock out of her barricade, the stone forming makeshift gauntlets over her forearms and knuckles. She stood between the bandits and the townspeople, arms raised.
The larger bandit spat profanities neither could understand, harsh consonants and a baring of teeth making the message clear. Theo spit at him and hurled a rock at his gut. He let out a smothered grunt and she was on him, crashing a fist into the side of his head and sending him a few staggered feet back.
The other bandit spared a glance at Daniel, seeming to register him as unarmed, and lunged to take a swing at Theo. But Daniel was already in motion, starting at a run and ending in a slide that took out the bandits legs and sent them both rolling down the hill.
What ensued was less a slugfest and more a catfight, curled fingers and dirty nails reaching for eyes, mouths, nostrils, and any other soft bits they could find a grip in. The banditâs hand axe was thrown far, but Danielâs hands couldnât reach the rib around his neck either, so the two men were forced into a feral fight.
The momentum of the roll ended with the bandit on top throwing punch after punch, chest heaving and spit flying. Danielâs arms were up, his freshly healed forearm taking the beating, better at tolerating the damage than his right. He swept his field of view in a wild arc, hoping to see Kireâs reptile form charging at them, but no such savior was to be found.
Another punch crashed against him, throwing his arms against his own head and his skull against the grassy hill. The rhythm of punches continued.
Left. Right.
Left. Right.
On the next strike against his left arm, he pushed up, meeting the strike with his stronger arm, the one mended by Svel. The break in rhythm threw the bandit off balance and Daniel bucked wildly, sending the man tumbling down the hill again.
Daniel ripped the rib free from the chain necklace and pursued the bandit, limbs moving somewhere between a crawl, a run, and a slide, muscles pushing him forward on an instinct heâd never felt before.
He jammed the sharpened rib into the first piece of flesh he could reach, piercing the bandits leather armor with ease and ripping straight through to the meat then bone of his thigh. Daniel tore the rib free and slashed at the manâs scarred face, but he caught only hands instead, sending a spray of blood across them both.
He didnât waste another strike at the face and instead planted his knee against the banditâs injured thigh, pressing his body into the wound. When the bandit howled in pain, instinctively reaching down with his hands to get the weight off, Daniel lashed out again, breaking through the weakened defense and planting the rib in the center of the manâs throat.
He fell back on to his hands, kicking against the grass to put some distance between the dying bandit and himself. The bandit clawed at the rib, trying vainly to pull it free, blood pouring out around the rib and drenching his chest in a crimson sheen.
Daniel stared at the dying man. The man he was killing. The man he murdered.
He felt like he did before his part in an elementary school play. Like he did in the middle of a work week. Like he did at the start of a run. Like he did at his momâs funeral.
He felt like he didnât want to be there â that he wanted to be anywhere else in the world. A man unable to determine what he wanted, but absolutely certain of what he didnât want.
The bandit fell back onto the grass, convulsions shaking his body as the last of his life sank into the dirt.
Daniel couldnât catch his breath, the air evading his lungs no matter how fast he pulled it in.
Pain erupted in his left hand, but he just pulled it to his face, pressing both hands against his eyes as tears welled.
âI canât do this Svel.â
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His bones creaked, shattered, splinters ripping through his arm, tugging his body apart, trying to provoke a response.
âPlease let me outâ¦â
His scars burned and screamed, the skin feeling like it might peel off entirely. He wept.
Then, the pain relented. It came back in pin pricks, poking each of his fingers in a considered rhythm. The peculiarity grabbed a part of his curiosity, and he opened his eyes, parting his fingers to look at them.
The motion revealed the view beyond: Theo, still fighting, exhausted and drenched in sweat.
She was on the defensive, dancing back and away from the large bandit in circles. The inherent disadvantage of her small size was coming into play, her arms a fraction of the length of the banditâs without even considering the length of his sword.
She defended with an ease earned through practice, but couldnât close the distance with the weight of her stone gauntlets wearing down her arms. The bandit saw it, struck at her to keep her moving, playing to her blind side with a cruel efficiency, catching skin and shedding blood on every other flick.
No, not cruel, Daniel realized, hauling himself to his feet. Not cruel, necessary. Theo would kill him. He would kill her. But the bandits had struck first.
Daniel staggered up the hill, reaching down halfway to them to peel a stone off of the road. He grunted from the effort then took a step back and hurled the rock. It crashed into the banditâs back, surprising him more than hurting him, but he lurched forward a step and Theo pounced.
She tackled him, gauntlets around his face, crushing his eyes. They fell on to the stone Daniel had thrown and she pulled it from behind his head, wrapping it around the banditâs face, blocking off any means of breathing. Then she crawled away, shaking her makeshift weapons off her hands while the bandit swung his blade wildly, seeking the flesh of anyone nearby.
Moments later, he dropped the blade entirely and clawed at the rock that encompassed his face.
Seconds after, he took to digging into the dirt with his fingers, a madness of looming death.
Then finally, he was still.
Theo fell on to her back, sucking in deep breaths. When Daniel approached her, she offered a thumbs up, too tired to share words, too desensitized to see the conflict on Danielâs face.
Further up the hill, the Crawlers had successfully fended off the frontal onslaught. Kire and Tyn were both rushing towards them, Tyn splitting off to tend to the townsperson who had been hit by arrows. Kire fell to his knees next to the Reborns.
âAre you ok?â Kire asked. He didnât spare Daniel a glance.
Theo nodded the affirmative. âYeah, Daniel had my back. Put the bastards in the dirt,â she reassured with a smile.
Kire looked up at Daniel, his bruised face crossed with worry lines that softened in relief. âWhere they belong.â
Daniel couldnât find the words to say, so instead he stepped away from the pair, drawn back to the rib like a moth to a flame.
It rested where he left it, buried in a dead man, gleaming fresh from a soaking of blood that looked natural against the bone. He crouched next to the body, trying not to think of the man it had been, the name it had, the life it lived.
When he grasped the rib, Svel appeared on the other side of the body, crouched just as he was.
âThe first,â she said, simple and sweet.
He pulled the bloody rib out and looked down at it. It seemed⦠satiated. Thicker and stronger, a healthier color to its bone white, a leech that had drunk its fill.
âHow many will there be?â he whispered, unable to take his eyes off either the weapon or the body.
Svel laughed, giggled, then cackled, a delirious string of sickly-sweet noises. She kept laughing, and he thought she would never answer, but before he slotted the rib back into its sheath, she spoke again.
âGood behavior is rewarded,â she sang, and he felt sick. âYou like scribbling in that notebook of yours, give the rib a try. A godâs tool for Irelâs blessed.â
She winked at him and he slammed the rib back into its sheath, his patron disappearing once he no longer held a piece of her. But the scars tickled a gentle pain, a reminder she was never really gone.
Daniel pulled himself to his feet, leaving behind the man he killed to regroup with the Crawlers.
Tyn was tending to wounds, fortunate to have only the bleeding to comfort, rather than any dead. They had all survived the ambush.
Not without cost, though, Daniel observed. Kireâs arm had no large scales left, only smaller ones regrowing where the others had been picked free. Axenâs hand, formerly hosting several runic markings, was barren, expended in the grand burst of flame.
The Crawlers seemed to be considering these lost resources when Axen issued his next direction.
âWeâll make camp soon, out of sight of the ambush location. We need to get moving.â He looked back at the injured townspeople and Theo, who glared at him for what his look insinuated.
âWhen weâre ready,â he conceded.
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When the team was ready to move again, they did so at a slower pace than before, crawling up the steep hillside they had been attacked on with exhausted steps.
No one was in the mood for admiring, so when it was Danielâs turn to overcome the top of the slope, he hadnât been prepared for the view that stopped him in his tracks.
The English word âmastâ. A shipâs mast. Thatâs what the city Mast was named for.
He knew, because while he couldnât see the city itself, he could see the mast.
Its height eluded any measurement, any human words failing completely to capture what was inhuman, unearthly, and utterly impossible. It was monstrous, dwarfing every other piece of terrain that could ever share its line-of-sight.
It dominated the mountains that wrapped around its base, smothered their existence such that they lost their own name, a mountain no longer seeming like it was that, if it could be conquered so plainly by a shipâs mast.
But they were, and they had been, and the mast loomed.
Kire clapped a hand against Danielâs shoulder as he passed by, pushing him into motion again. âYou donât get used to it.â
He had so many questions, their formation on the tip of his tongue where they promptly died, laid to rest at the feet of the only question he truly wanted answered.
If that was the mast, how big was the ship?
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The second camp was set up much like the first, relying this time on a dense cluster of pine trees that had begun dominating the area the further they followed the road.
With the better maintained paths, Daniel had expected some sign of civilization, but there was none. The roads splintered off a few times, perhaps leading to other small villages, but the only man-made object to be seen was the mast.
It taunted his mind when he looked away, tortured it when he did look at it.
The others spared it few glances, but it seemed to be a presence on all of their minds, a weight they all shouldered and grew accustomed to like a change in gravity.
Daniel looked at the mast. It towered, its tip piercing past the line of clouds, into the atmosphere of the planet.
âWhy didnât I see it before?â he asked, settling around the fire with the other Reborns, tucking his legs beneath his designated fur blanket.
âCanât see it from a certain distance,â Kire answered, chugging from a flask he produced from his vest before offering it to Theo. She took a drink and passed it along.
âWhy?â Daniel took a swig from the flask, the bittersweet taste of Tish a touch more familiar than it had been the first time, a welcome relief to the blood he saw whenever he closed his eyes. He passed it to Mayline, who gave it straight to Tyn as he sat down to join the Reborns after finishing his duties with the injured Crawler.
âWhyâs the sky blue?â Kire countered, accepting the flask back from Tyn eagerly.
Because blue light waves are shorter than other colors, Daniel wanted to answer, but he knew that was missing the point.
Mayline looked over the heads of Theo and Kire to where Axen and Henya were speaking in hushed, conspiratorial voices. Her loyalty was obvious, but the physical distance between her lord and herself brought a subtle somberness to her face. She twisted long strands of silver hair between her fingers.
âCenturies ago, our world was attacked,â Mayline whispered, breaking her constant, near-silent prayer. âOur planet was cracked â split in half by a world-ending ship. Our half was saved by the grace of Mino, the lord of Etheril at the time. He surrendered his mortality, his family, his life and ascended to godhood, his sense of duty and justice earning him the power to hold what remained of our planet together.â
âThe second ship was a sneak attack, meant to crack the remaining half and finish us off, but Mino saved us. Time passes, but the cursed magic holds strong, and the ship can only be seen once weâre close enough,â Mayline continued, lip curling in bitter disgust. âOnce itâs too late.â
There was silence for a moment, before a drunken Kire broke it with a sour spit. âAinât our world.â
âExcuse me?â
âYou said âour worldâ. It ainât ours. Grovel all you want, but itâll never be yours either Mayline. Youâre one of us,â Kire said, dark eyes shadowed by the flickering dwindle of the flames. Tynâs shoulders shuddered and he leaned away from the Reborns, uncomfortable with the discussion topic.
But Mayline was still, smoldering, her tidy eyebrows lowered into a flat line. She stared Kire down, both too stubborn to break first. âYou make it worse for all of us when you talk like that.â
âItâs the truth.â
âYou make it the truth,â she spit, folding her single arm over her chest on reflex, where it then fell to her side again awkwardly without another arm to fold with. âThis is my world, your opinion matters little to me.â
Kire laughed, pointing a finger over his shoulder so suddenly the gesture spilled a few drops from his flask. âDonât matter to them either, or do you think the most obedient hound gets a seat at the table?â
Mayline stood in a smooth motion, her robes swaying and revealing tense muscles and a clenched fist. âAnd yet you take their gold all the same, dog. Truly, all bark and no bite,â she sneered, stepping away from the fire to settle near Axen.
Theo had pressed her face into her hands, pushing into her cheeks, an already small woman made smaller by exhaustion from the battle of blades then words.
âDoesnât seem worthwhile to poke the bear,â Daniel said, sharing the uncomfortable weight with the other quiet parties around the fire.
âYou donât know shit, newborn,â Kire hissed, the sharp exhale of words losing steam by the end, a sorry expression forming. Some of the alcohol-fueled venom faded, but he shifted away from the fire anyway, collapsing in on himself in a lonely corner of the camp.
Theo sighed and rubbed her reddened eye, itching beneath her eyepatch. âNot worth poking either bear,â she said, giving Daniel a sympathetic smile.
Tyn picked at strands of grass by his leg. His long limbs and big hands seemed cumbersome when he wasnât in the act of healing and mending. âKireâs not right, yâknow. We⦠This is your world too, we know that. Itâs your world because youâre here too,â he mumbled, the confident man who had set Danielâs arm gone in the presence of high emotions.
Theo gave Tyn a pointed look that shrunk him down, a warning shot that he obediently ducked for. She looked like she might give him a lecture, but changed her mind, instead rolling over into her bedding.
Daniel reached over and tapped Tynâs shoulder, giving the tall man a reassuring smile. He couldnât pretend to understand all the dynamics at play, but he did understand kindness, recognized it in Tyn. The other man gave him a nervous smile back.
With conversation killed, the fire low, and Axen once again taking watch, Daniel took a few moments to transcribe the daysâ events, then rolled into his slim bedding to sleep.