Book Fourteen

Cold as Death

 

Vampires.

Monarchs of the undead. Their true origin is lost in the mists of time, but records of them exist long before the fall of the Reach. There are many myths surrounding them, and the ones I have known have been largely keen for those myths never to be debunked. Despite this, my digging has unearthed some fascinating truths. Despite popular belief, the symbols and Words of the Holy Writ have no effect upon them. Nor, indeed, does any religion I have encountered have a power over them. I have seen them happily eat garlic and cross running water. I have seen them enter places uninvited.

As to what is true: the sunlight hurts them. I suspect this is to do with the magical, unseen properties of sunlight that I am currently researching. They can sustain themselves on any food a human being can, so really there is no reason for them to drink the blood of others save for the fact that they crave it. It pulls them in a way that perhaps only an addict could fathom. And they can be killed. They heal from all but immediately fatal damage in seconds, so removing the head is most effective. The real difficulty is not the method by which you kill a vampire, though, but just how you actually achieve that. Their strength has few rivals in this world, and consuming blood–a person’s very life-force–makes them that much stronger. To face a recently fed vampire in the darkness of night would be a terrible thing, even for one such as myself.

• Elvolar Lightseer, ‘On the Veracity of Claims About the Non-Human Beings of Valos’

 

The darkness seems to shudder and waver, as though it, too, would like to escape. Sparks of blood flicker around Duke Haellus Malbec, drifting through the air like sanguine flower petals. The air is thick with dust, sharp with mana, and heavier than death. Riyo Falsemoon takes hold of everything and whispers, “starscape.” The shattered rocks and broken stalactites rise, drifting through gentle patterns that turn the space into a child’s mobile of dark, spinning shapes that she can feel through her reality.

Beside her, pink flickers of light become a steady roar. Flame dances over crimson scales to form a shroud of burning life. On her other side, the water in the air rushes cold and frosts over metal and glass. Snow forms and compacts until she is flanked by monsters. Lightning light licks across a silver sheen of feathers, and beneath the level of hearing, but not consciousness, a song of iron and violence rings out.

The vampire vanishes. The point of Ravi’s arrow tracks him up above them, and a line of blue breaks through the gloom. Malbec grins, baring his terrible fangs as the shaft breaks in his hand. Burn marks on his palm fade from existence so fast that Ravi is almost sure they were never there. He falls like a meteorite upon them, and his fist has the weight of a thousand years behind it as it crashes into Emerald’s claw. The impact creates a flash of light, and a moment later the ground around them turns to splinters as Emerald is driven down into it. Geysers of rock and dust burst like fireworks in the shaking cavern, and the silence is finally shattered by the roar of a breaking world.

Malbec pushes off a tumbling hunk of rock and it explodes into shards, driving him towards Ravi. Emerald breathes a rope-thick strand of indigo sunlight after him, and he nudges against one of the rocks above him to avoid it, landing neatly beside the crater he has just made. He turns his bloodlust upon the dragon and realises the light of her flame has not stopped. His eyes find the end of the strand of fire as it curls through a loop and comes down at him from above. It breaks over his hastily raised arm, showering the ground around him with molten globules that melt holes in the rock.

With the light of the flames still burning the air, Riyo swings in from low on the Duke’s right, her sword carried forward by its own monstrous weight. The inward curve of the claw slams against Malbec’s raised knee, while his hand flashes out to catch Rolleck’s sword as it sweeps in from his blind spot. Both blades withdraw quickly, bloodied, to let a fist of Glitter’s densest ice smash down on the Duke’s head.

A handful of seconds of concentrated violence. The cavern still echoes with the ghostly roar of it as twinkling mist mixes with the dust of minced rocks around Malbec.

“Ho ho!” his voice rings out of the swirling debris, and his footsteps crunch in the quiet as he emerges. “It has been too long since I faced a challenge. My long sleep must have left me out of practice.” He looks at his hand, at the blood dripping down over his wrist. The wound will not close. “A cursed sword,” he says, looking at Rolleck. “Which of my old nemeses resides within it, I wonder? And a dragon whose blood runs too hot even for my tastes. A traited archer with a spooky secret, and a crafter–powerful for one so young. And you,” he looks at Glitter. “What are you?”

“My father said I’m unique,” Glitter says, his voice slightly muffled by the snow of his golem.

“Quite. A formidable group, no doubt,” Malbec says, straightening his cravat. “I will take great pleasure in crushing you all.” He tilts his neck and it cracks.

The sound reaches Rolleck at the same moment the Duke does. His fist draws a terrible discordant scream from his sword as the wires inside his body tighten like the gallows’ noose. The muscles in his arm turn to jelly, and he is sent flying back through a series of stalagmites. Even as pain rips through him from every impact, his head is filled with laughter.

A true monster.

Rolleck comes to rest in a pile of crushed rock, his body aching but unbroken.

Even barbs of iron can only hold such flimsy flesh together for so long, Rolleck the Lost.

Rolleck groans, feeling blood and oil dripping down his arm.

Hadn’t you better start running?

 

Listless satellites gain purpose in an instant, drawn to Malbec like a magnet draws iron. Hundreds of rocks and fragments of bridge slam into him, entombing him. Riyo presses with everything she has as Emerald breathes a sheet of Yl Torat’s volcanic fury upon him. Rock sizzles and melts, cocooning the vampire in lava. As soon as Emerald stops to inhale, Glitter douses the shimmering lump in snow. Steam floods the space as a relentless torrent of crystal ice flashes to vapour, until there is no longer enough heat to melt it. What remains is a lumpen stalagmite, enrobed in twinkling frost. A new tomb for the unquiet dead.

Another dip appears in the sounds swirling around the cavern, but once again it doesn’t last. Rock crumbles and splinters, dust trickling until an explosion creates a cloud of furious shrapnel. A shadow moves through it like a snake in the grass, points of red anguish shining above a silvery grin that turns blood cold.

Emerald spins and manages to block the first punch, but it knocks her off balance, numbs the scales of her forearm. She whips around, lashing her tail across the duke’s midriff and making him grunt, but his smile only widens. His next punch meets her open hand and he grapples the other. Even with her blood raging with flame, he overpowers her. Her talons score the rock beneath her as she is pushed back. Her scales and bones groan with the pressure. It takes all she has just to stay upright, and then he leans back. Her balance goes, just for a moment, but it is enough. His forehead cracks her nose and sends her flying, embers of blood flickering from her snout as she crashes into the darkness.

Riyo’s sword sweeps over Malbec’s head. His fist rises to crush her throat but meets the sole of her foot and pushes her up into the air. She pivots, pushes off another asteroid, and rushes back down towards his head. She throws her reality ahead of her, shoving him down into the ground. He turns his grin towards her, and her power sluices off him like water. The extra weight on her sword is still there, though, and the tip of the claw comes around and finds its mark in the back of his shoulder. Malbec grabs for her, but she has let go of her sword the moment it hit, falling past it and out of his reach. She comes down hard on her back and gravity changes, pulling her along the ground as he turns and letting her throw a gravity-assisted punch directly between his legs on the way past.

Duke Malbec unleashes a roar and stumbles. Glitter rises behind him, a lance of compacted ice in his massive fist that falls like a lightning bolt. It slams into his other shoulder, splattering rock in red as it emerges from the front. A monstrous backhand blows Glitter’s snow fist apart, but as he rises to throw the second punch a streak of blue light pierces his back, straight through his heart.

He takes a step forward, eyes wide. His hand clutches at his chest.

“I thought this might be entertaining,” he says, voice raw. He rips the arrow from his chest, grabs Riyo’s sword and casts it away, crushes the ice spear in a powerful fist. The wounds fade like footprints in the desert sand, leaving smooth, pale skin as perfect as a new-born babe’s. “But so far it is nothing but irritating.”

“Only fun when they don’t fight back?” Riyo says, brushing dust from her sweat-soaked shirt.

“It is only fun when there is a challenge,” the duke growls, and then he is gone.

Glitter’s golem explodes, snow filling the black. A high-pitched wail rockets through the drifting flakes and smashes into the wall, making the cavern shake. Riyo’s eyes flash upwards and the broken earth rushes from beneath and around her to create a roof above her. Malbec smashes through it, and Riyo’s sword whirls into her hand just in time for her to throw everything behind it to block the duke’s next strike.

Riyo feels the exhilarating crackle in her spine as she finds the knife edge. The point where death is a cold, grasping chasm just a single hair’s breadth mistake away. For a beautiful moment she can see everything her reality touches. Understands the way it moves and the way it doesn’t. Each mote of dust drifts the way it does because of her. Every twitch in Malbec’s muscles tells her the shape of his next movement. The weight of a falling star drives every swing of her sword, and she matches him. Turns aside his fists, dances through her reality like Valos’ greatest swordswoman, twists like the flame in the wind.

Then the moment passes, and his knuckles drive into her abdomen. Bile and blood spatter the inside of her teeth. The air moves around her in spite of her reality, and she is airborne against her will. Everything seems to slow and blur. Malbec’s grin is a fearful rictus as he raises his fist to end her.

A flash of blue light cuts through Riyo’s dizziness, and her sight sharpens around the shape of an arrow piercing the duke’s hand.

“Ravi!”

It sounds like there are two voices. Ravi sees the ground beneath Malbec’s foot break as he lunges towards him. His bow comes up as a paltry defence against a darkness-wreathed fist that carries his death. Something cold touches his back, slips inside his heart, then his vision is filled with flame.

Riyo lands sideways on a stalagmite and shades her eyes against the blue-white inferno. She shivers against the wave of nightmarish cold that rolls past her, but as the light fades away she scowls.

“That’s not fair,” she says, folding her arms.

Ravi’s hand is wreathed in the Chill of the Grave and crackling with lightning blue curse-breaker where he grips the duke’s fist. His eyes open, and he looks down on Malbec with a blank, white stare. His feathers are longer, his talons sharper. Like a frozen phoenix he rises, and his other fist comes down like a diving eagle, smashing his prey face first into the rock and triggering another explosion that sends ripples rolling out through the earth.

“It’s not enough,” someone says below Riyo, making her jump. A dagger flies into her hand as she backs up the stalagmite, then pauses.

“Oh. It’s you. Sergeant… Ibex?”

“It’s Ixel,” she says with a scowl.

“So are you here to help daddy?” Riyo shifts gravity to her front foot, ready to blow the stalagmite apart to give herself a dust-screen.

“No,” Ixel says, returning her attention to the fight. Ravi vanishes. All Riyo sees is a blue flicker to tell her which way to turn her head. He is practically on the other side of the cavern, and his hands are awash with power. He brings them together as though in prayer, then draws them apart. Flame and ice linger in the air where they pass, creating an arc before him.

“No way,” Riyo says. “That’s so cool.”

“Is that a bow?” Ixel says, then growls. “It won’t stop him.”

“Then what will?” Riyo says, eyes moving around the dim cave. She cannot see any of her friends, save Ravi. Her body aches with a thousand promised bruises, and she can feel the strain of her reality pulling at her mind as though it clings to her with hooks and twine.

“I came here to ask you for a favour,” Ixel says.

 

Ravi can see everything. The colours are sharp enough to cut glass, and the ruins might as well be lit by the desert sun. He can see the insects scuttling through the displaced stone of the cavern floor. He can see Emerald, burning bright in a crater made by her body. He can see Glitter, a fierce dent deforming the upper edge of his chassis. He can see Rolleck, struggling back to his feet, and Riyo standing sideways above Ixel. More importantly, he can see the specks of dust in Malbec’s goatee as he rises. The burning anger in his crimson eyes. He grabs his bow of spectral fire and draws an arrow into existence at its centre. Lightning makes pulsing cracks in ice formed in the still hearts of the dead.

Don’t miss.

Explosions rock both ends of the cavern at the exact same moment. Ravi is once again engulfed in the Chill, flashing the rock around him to brittle ice and sending Vale tumbling out of him.

“Oh, come on,” she says.

Ravi slumps to his knees, shivering and hyperventilating so hard that his chest feels like it is about to break open. He scrunches his eyes closed and groans, clutching at his heart.

“Oh. Oh wow.”

Vale’s voice draws his eyes up. The world seems to be shaking, blurring his vision, and the darkness is back. He can just make out a figure, still standing.

“W-w-w-w-w-what…” he manages.

“We got him. The other end of the cavern is a lot more spacious, now. I can see it through the hole in the vampire’s gut.”

“D-d-d-d-d-damnit…” Ravi says. “I d-d-d-d-d-didn’t w-w-want t-t-t-t-to….” A spasm closes his throat and he sprawls on the ground.

“To kill him? Ravi, he’s an undead monster…” She looks down at him. Then back up. Her eyes widen. “Oh. Well, on the bright side you don’t need to worry about it.”

Ravi is still twitching. It feels as though the cold is reaching up from beneath the earth to claw him down to his final resting place. He curls up, wraps his arms around himself, but the cold is inside his soul.

“w-w-w-w-what?”

“He’s still alive.”

Duke Malbec throws his head back and roars. Blood drips from the corners of his mouth and trails through his beard, staining the stark white skin of his face. His eyes grow wide, leaking madness from their crimson irises. Red-black smoke spills from his wound, filling the cavern with a monstrous hiss and falling like a waterfall to the rocks around him. It flows heavy like fog and seeps into the darkness, merging with it and making the shadows all the deeper. Cracks of red lightning sparkle over his body, and with another mighty cry the duke flops forward, his arms dangling, his blood-spattered hair draped over his face. The smoke reduces to a trickle, revealing a hole through the duke’s fine shirt and doublet that shows a perfectly defined set of abdominal muscles.

“No way,” Vale says. “Ravi, get up.”

“C-c-c-can’t.” Ravi’s body is immobilised by the terrible tension in his muscles. He cannot even look up.

“You need to move, Ravi,” Vale says, taking a step back. “What’s wrong with you, anyway? I feel fine. Better than fine, actually.”

Ravi just groans in response.

“He’s looking this way,” Vale says, taking another step back. “I can’t move you, and he can see me.”

“Y-y-you’ll l-l-leave.”

The duke’s voice burns through the cavern once more, and Vale slips into the wall.

“The death waltz is a powerful thing indeed,” the duke says. He is standing over Ravi, but the chill of fear that runs through him is lost to the icy pain he is already wracked with. “But if you cannot do it properly, it is worthless.”

Ravi hears cloth ripping, and the remains of the vampire’s ruined doublet hits the floor. Then Ravi is rising, a new, sharp pain in his chest where the duke grips his downy feathers. Ravi looks into a pair of searing eyes, and his body relaxes. The pain becomes faint. Distant. His eyes try to focus on the arm holding him up. There must be a way out but…

“Your blood will fuel the slaughter of your friends.” The dukes voice sounds almost sultry. So soft that it glances off Ravi’s attention. His attention slips past the looming, toothy smile to another pair of eyes, burning like blood.

“I’m sorry, Father,” Raith Ixel says. She is wearing her glamour–hair like pitch slicked back into a quiff, black jacket brocaded with golden thread and crimson lining, cravat so white it shines. “I imagine this means I’m no longer a member of your esteemed family.”

Malbec’s sinister smile turns to a scowl. He drops Ravi, who hits the rock with an empty groan.

“Your mother would be so disappointed in you.”

“My mother is a story. A shadowy queen with no presence in my life. Her disappointment means nothing to me.”

“Ha!” Malbec turns around and stalks towards his daughter.

Ixel does not flinch or shift, letting him put his face uncomfortably close to hers.

“Your mother doesn’t just have expectations for you. She has expectations for all of us. She shaped us. She is the primal mother. You will learn what her disappointment means.” He stands back. “Or you would, if you were to leave this place alive. You are a blemish on my reputation, however. You die here with the rest of them.”

“We’ll see.”

She stops her father’s fist with her palm, and an explosion of dust and pressure bursts out from the impact. She can feel the strength of his arm, see his powerful muscles straining. And she smiles.

He narrows his eyes. “What?”

“You never told me much about yourself, did you?” She pushes his hand away, and he steps back. “Just tried to beat me into whatever shape you–or mother the queen or whatever–wanted me to take. But I’ve read about you.” She clenches her fist. “Your legend is not a pleasant one, father.”

“Of course not. We are vampires, Sethe. The stories these creatures tell are the stories of chattel. Of course they fear the slaughterhouse.”

“Yet you joined with the chattel,” Ixel says. “Became an honorary member of their World Force.”

Malbec shrugs. “Positions of power within their world demonstrate our superiority and make them respectful. A docile herd is easier to control. Besides, the position brought with it opportunities to test my might. Criminals and demons from all the Songs to sharpen my teeth upon. Meanwhile, you allowed yours to go dull.”

“Maybe,” Ixel says. “But I’ve read a lot of books, father. While you were sleeping between feasts, I was talking to the chattel. Learning about them. Learning from them.”

“And that is why you are weak, Sethe. That is why you must be purged.”

“Really? You don’t want to know what I’ve learned?”

He responds by trying to punch her head from her body, but once again she stops it dead with a lack of effort that shakes the ground.

“Then let me show you,” she says, and drives her fist into his cheek.

His face distorts in surprise and agony as he is driven into the ground with a scream of shattering rock. Ixel kicks him in the chest as he is rising, and he flails through the air and into a cacophony of stalagmites. Dust billows like smoke above and around them.

“What is this power?” Malbec says, rising from the rubble.

“They’ve studied us, while we glutted on them,” Ixel says, standing before him once more. “They know more about us than we know about ourselves. That’s what they do: they learn. It’s why they control the whole world while you’re content to control a small herd of them. It’s why this planet wasn’t overrun by nightmares the moment the Reach fell.”

“These creatures are nothing, Sethe. See how easily I have destroyed them? Humans, cursed, traited, dragons… whatever that box was. Here I stand without a scratch, while they are broken. Whatever power you have gained, it is yours, not theirs.”

Ixel shakes her head. “No. I took it from them. It’s their blood that empowers us, but because you don’t see them, you don’t see the differences in them. They do, and they started to wonder how those differences might affect us.”

She grabs him by the throat at drives him into the ground, kneed pressed into his chest. She can feel his pulse as she squeezes his neck.

“You might be more experienced than me, father, but I have been eating better.”

 

 

Riyo holds her sleeve against her neck and pouts at the red stain it leaves on the cuff. She’d spent a lot of time reading in the Galsbreath Apothacarium, and in amongst the tales of Calis and her legends, there had been some lighter literature that she’d read in her spare time. Among the gearpunk fiction and stories of space exploration she had found several fantastical romance novels that contained some very sexy vampires. She’d wondered just how much of their descriptions were accurate.

She fans her face as she sneaks among the stalagmites, Ixel’s vague directions proving entirely unhelpful even when she can bring them to mind over… other thoughts. The sound of footsteps freezes her and sharpens her attention. She can hear someone murmuring in the darkness.

“Rolleck,” she hisses, and the footsteps cease.

“Riyo?”

Riyo extends her reality in the direction of the voice and feels the flows of gravitational forces in the space. They lead her to Rolleck.

“Who were you talking to?” she says, keeping her voice low.

“Myself,” Rolleck says, voice a little strained.

“Have you ever heard anything about vampire bites having an aphrodisiac effect?”

“What? No. Wait, did he…?”

“No. Not him. But anyway, it’s true.”

There is a slow pause.

“Does this help us at all?”

“No. But we have a plan. I need you to do something for me.”

 

 

The cave rings with the shockwaves of vampires in conflict. Emerald rubs her snout and shakes rock dust from her wings. Her talons come away crusted with charred blood, but the ache in her veins is a quiet one. She can reignite her cowl if she needs to. If it will help.

She scowls down at her bloodied fingers. The vampires are strong, and despite knowing how stupid it is, that hurts her pride. The human stories of the vampires are of cruel parasites, stalking and feeding off them. Stories of dragons are ones of awe and majesty. Her travels and her father have given her an image of her race as nothing if not strong. Her own travails have taught her how individual strength is meaningless in this wide and dangerous world, but it still stings to know that these creatures of shadows can best her so easily.

“Emerald,” Glitter says. He is plodding over the uneven ground with snow wreathed legs, a massive dent in his chassis. “How bad do I look?”

Emerald eyes him up and down, then sighs. “Not as bad as mine.”

“You feel okay,” Glitter says.

“Yeah. It’s my self-esteem that hurts the most. I could stand up and test myself against him again, but I know how it would go.”

“Really? What happens if the sergeant loses to her father? Will we just give up?”

“We might as well.”

Glitter draws a frown on his glass. “Well, I don’t think I could beat him either, but I don’t know it. I won’t know for sure until I’m beaten, so I’m going to keep fighting until then. Especially if it means saving my friends.”

Emerald looks up at him, looks through his face to his crystal, pulsing as strong as ever. She finds the corner of her mouth tugging up.

“You’re such a sweet thing, Glitter.”

“You think so?”

“You’re like a cake.” She looks back to her hand and closes her fist, her talons resting against the scales of her wrist. “And you’re right. I can get stronger, and in the meantime all that matters is that we survive. Thar we can carry on our journey. Keep laughing and singing together. Right?”

“Yeah!” Glitter says. “So what do we do?”

“First, we fix that dent.”

 

 

“Having a hard time, father?”

Duke Haellus Malbec’s face is etched with rage. He grabs his shoulder and yanks it forward, popping the bone back into its socket and grinding his teeth as the damage heals.

“You must think I’m a fool,” he spits. “You’ve given away your secret.”

Raith’s smile wavers. “You’re bluffing.”

Malbec chuckles. “I’ve paid enough attention to the chattel to know there can be only one explanation for your strength. You only just stood in my way, which means the blood you drank is here in this cave. I’ve drunk from the traited before. I’ve encountered plenty of humans corrupted by curses. A dragon’s blood burns too hot, and that box doesn’t even have blood, which means you drank from the crafter girl.”

Ixel glances across the cave to where Riyo Falsemoon is watching their fight, then quickly back to her father. His grin widens.

“I won’t let you near her. And they won’t, either.”

Emerald and Glitter crash down between the duke and Riyo, pink and blue light playing off each other as shimmering ice reflects violent flame.

“You can’t stop me,” Malbec says. “I have lived for nearly two thousand years. I have fought creatures you have never heard of, ruled over generations of these worthless souls, and drunk their gallons of their blood. The thought that you could outwit me is… disgusting.”

They move at the same moment. Ixel is faster, and she plants herself between Riyo and her father, fangs bared.

And he is not there.

 

 

Lieutenant Anelle Marigold stares into a deep and shimmering pool. Its green-turquoise surface seems to beckon her. Seems to promise a calm serenity that the world around her has surrendered. She blots out the sound of fighting and focuses on that sensation. Perhaps, if she leaves this place alive, she will give academia another go. She has discovered that, though she may be good at bossing people around and fighting with a sword, a soldier’s life is more terrible than anything she has ever imagined. Her time on the Plains of Chaos had been tough, but straightforward. Nightmares emerged from the Reach and were put down before they could reach the walls of the city. With the main garrison of the World Force right behind her, when a titan had emerged, she had retreated with everyone else and allowed one of the generals to deal with it.

Here, there were no generals. Here, she was the highest rank. The leader. The one who had to deal with everything. She had failed to stop the criminals and she had lost control of one of her own men. This was her nadir, and she knew it meant the end of her soldiering career. But that might give her a fresh start. Her father always said it was never too late for one of those. He’d married his third wife at the age of sixty-seven and was still living happily with her.

Across the pool of mana sits Trost, the crazy Sunlight Cultist from Westunnel. Lieutenant Marigold has always ignored his ravings and has no idea what he is doing here. The light and heat from his supposed sunlite stone are welcoming in this terrible darkness, though.

“He hears it, you know?”

“Hears what?” Marigold looks up at the madman. He is twirling a strand of his manic hair between his fingers and staring into the pool with her.

“All of it. Everything that passes over one of his pools.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“The puddle man,” Trost says, jumping up and pointing his staff at the mana. “The glooper of glops.” He scratches his head. “The time is coming.” He looks up at her. “Try not to panic, rubber glove lady.”

“What-” She lets out a shriek as something grabs her hair, drags her to her feet. “Tunnel-”

Her attempt to open her reality sputters out as she meets a pair of crimson eyes. Her breath goes lax, her body stills. She blinks just once. Slowly. Feels her mind drift away on a cloud of emptiness.

“You have woken me to an exhilarating hunt, Lieutenant. I thank you. But now, I’m afraid I will be needing your blood.”

The armour around her collar bends, and she feels his breath on her neck. She supposes vampires must feed, after all. She wonders if perhaps those trashy novels she has read are right. Maybe she’ll enjoy this. It doesn’t really matter if she doesn’t, though. Nothing matters.

The duke grunts, and Lieutenant Marigold blinks. She snaps her elbow into his midriff, and his grip loosens in her hair, letting her pull free. She stumbles away, opening her reality and creating a portal. Then she stops. Malbec is still, staring at her but not seeing her. A broad, flat blade sticks out of his chest.

Rolleck the Lost steps out from behind him, his sword dripping with blood. Marigold meets his eyes, the left flashing rusty red in the darkness. The skin beneath it cracks, revealing a sliver of cold iron.

“I do think you’re a fool, father,” Ixel says. Riyo, Glitter and Emerald catch up a moment later and join her to stare at the dying vampire. “But you don’t think you are. You thought that because I didn’t spell out the thing about crafter blood that I didn’t want you to know it. That you were oh so clever for figuring it out. Then you thought I’d somehow forgotten about the Lieutenant. Most of all, you thought I was like you. Alone. Fighting by myself. Too proud to let someone else have the glory of bloody victory.”

The duke coughs, and blood dribbles from his lips. The stream of it flowing from his wound is ceaseless. It coats his skin in shining red, and despite the cracks of red light and the faint whiffs of black smoke the wound does not heal.

“You… are… a… disgrace!” he chokes. Then he convulses, his head jerking back as the last rattle of breath leaves his body. He topples backwards and is consumed by the pool of mana.

A flicker-flash of red, and Ixel’s glamour vanishes. Her hair floats softly down over her eye, purple once more. She lets out a steady breath, then turns to Rolleck.

“Thank you, swordsman.”

“It’s Rolleck,” he says, “and it was my pleasure.” He touches the skin beneath his eye and scowls.

A payment, the voice says, for services rendered. Silence has a cost, and only true silence allows you to get the better of a vampire.

“I’m sorry, Sergeant,” Lieutenant Marigold says. “You warned me, and I…”

Ixel shakes her head, puts her hand on the Lieutenant’s shoulder. “It’s okay. This disaster goes much higher than you.” She turns to Riyo. “How much do you know about your master, Riyo Falsemoon?”

“He’s a dick,” Riyo says. “I knew he’d try to get in my way. That said, this didn’t feel like his work. He’s usually a lot more subtle than just throwing the World Force at his problems.”

Ixel sighs. “I thought so. The others said this was one of his enemies within the Force, trying to get an edge over him.”

“And he will have known it,” Riyo says. “And done nothing to stop it.”

“I thought that, too.” She turns back to the Lieutenant. “Sorry Lieutenant, but I resign.”

Lieutenant Marigold looks back to the pool of mana, still rippling. “I don’t blame you, Sergeant. I think… I think I will look into reassignment as soon as I get back to Ragg.”

“Ragg…” a voice says.

They all look towards the pool. The ripples are growing stronger.

“That is the city on the plains, is it not? The bastion of humanity.”

Shimmering mana oozes upwards, the surface of the pool sinking as the mana takes a new form. The shape of a man, featureless and smooth, appears, as though the fluid is sliding into a mould. He stands on the air above his crater and turns his head to look at Riyo, eyeless face curious.

“It is odd. We have never had to learn this way before. Study the creatures of a planet like we have you. The others chafe at it, but I am finding it very interesting indeed.”

“Who are you?” Riyo says.

“Why, I am Mana. My blood pools beneath your world. And you… You have our scent on you. You have seen the Adit.”

“What’s an adit?”

“It’s an entrance,” Rolleck says. “To a mine or a tunnel.”

“Yes,” Mana says. “The entrance to your world.”

“The Reach,” Riyo says slowly. “Yeah, I’ve been inside it.”

“What’s going on?” former sergeant Ixel whispers.

“This is one of them,” Riyo says, not taking her eyes off the creature. Her heart races in her chest, sticky darkness sliding down the back of her neck. “The beings that destroyed Calis. This is one of them.”

Emerald’s eyes widen, and she reflexively inhales her pilot.

“Like the Darkness,” Rolleck says.

“I see,” Mana says. “So you are the one who repelled the Second. How fascinating. There is much that can be learned from you. The creatures I have been experimenting on until now have given me a great deal of data, but perhaps it is time I moved on from random selection.”

“Get back!” Riyo says, shoving at everyone with her reality to keep them away from Mana as he reaches out. “These guys are unbelievably strong.”

“No,” Trost says. “He is not the puddle-lord. Just a reflection in a black mirror.”

Mana’s head turns slowly, until he is looking behind himself.

“You,” he says. His head whips back round. “He is right, of course. I may be able to speak through and manipulate my mana, if you are the ones who defeated the Second, then I am no threat to you in this state.” His body begins to melt. “I will leave you with a gift.” In the crater below, mana drips onto the still body of Duke Haellus Malbec. “And perhaps we will meet again soon. The next incursion is mine.” His body loses form, falling like he has been upended from a bucket.

Riyo breathes out.

“Riyo,” Ixel says. “My father…”

The level of mana in the pool is sinking, like water draining from a bath. Something moves beneath the surface, stretching up out of the ooze.

“You said mana’s effects were random, right?” Glitter says.

“That’s what I thought.” Riyo keeps backing away from the rising mana. “But maybe it just looked that way. Mana was experimenting with the creatures of our world…”

“So he’s not going to just have a slightly higher voice, is he?” Rolleck says. His sword is already singing to him, and it is getting louder.

A hand breaks the surface of the pool and grabs its edge. White fingers are now mottled with black, fingernails growing. A second hand grabs at the rocks and they are crushed in its grip. Something black and leathery bursts forth, then flops open into a wing. A second joins it.

“We need to get out of here,” Riyo says. “We got what we came for and lost it already so there’s no reason to stay.”

“Kill!” The fury in the voice freezes them all in place, steals their will to flee. Their will to breathe.

Raith shakes her head, sloughing off dizziness and apathy.

“No,” she says. “That’s not possible.” She looks up into a pair of fire-filled eyes that shred at the edges of her willpower. The thing that stands before her is not her father. Its hairy black skin and prominent snout bear no resemblance to the man who had fallen in the pool. But its eyes. Its eyes are the same. They hate. They deride. They destroy. Wings like folds of ink stretch out from its back, claws of steel darkness rend the ground and the air. The scent of malice rolls through the cave on a chilling draught.

It reaches forward, and its image distorts, growing larger. Filling her vision. Her senses begin to fail again, seeping out of her to stain the rocks.

“Shiny shiny stones!” Trost yells, leaping between her and the creature and waving his staff at the creature. It withdraws its hand with a snarl, scrunching up its eyes against the glare of the light.

Raith blinks. Her mind is back to normal, and the others are waking up too.

“Haha! Still a vampire. Scared of the sun!” Trost shouts, then spins to face her. “But not you. Why? WHY?”

Raith staggers back, wiping spittle from her face and staring wide-eyed at the crazy old man.

“Uh, blood,” she stammers. “The less I drank the less the sun bothered me…”

“It always tasted too much like caramel to me,” Trost says, “so I never drank nearly so much.” He shakes his head, then peers hard at Riyo. “The time has come. I don’t care how. Riyo V. Falsemoon, will you please go now?”

Riyo looks him in the eye and sees something there. Something she’d seen on their first meeting. Something that terrifies her more deeply than even the Darkness had.

She nods. “Emerald, get Ravi and meet us on the bridge.”

Emerald nods and leaps towards the back of the cave, her wings beating dust into streamers that twinkle in Trost’s light.

“Lieutenant,” Riyo says. “Can you take the rest of us up there?”

The Lieutenant is staring past her, eyes fixed on what was once Sergeant Malbec.

“Lieutenant!” Riyo shouts, shaking her by the shoulder. “Get us all out of here, please.”

“Yes,” she says, then, “Yes of course. Tunnel vision.”

A pale green portal shimmers open behind her, hazy and indistinct. Rolleck nods and jogs through first, sword held before him, Glitter close on his heels. Marigold goes next, still not taking her eyes from the creature. Ixel follows her with one last glance for Trost.

“Mister Trost,” Riyo says. “I think I can leave you behind without worrying, but I’d feel better if you told me as much.”

“Fear not, young lady. The transformation has already begun. If you do not leave me here, I cannot guarantee you won’t die.”

“Okay,” Riyo says, turning towards the portal.

“And Riyo.”

“Yes,” she says, turning back.

“Wax the noodles. Wax them smooth.”

Riyo smiles. “Thank you for your tutelage,” she says, then she is gone, and the haze of light fails. Trost feels the Lieutenant’s reality withdraw from him and turns towards the mana-mutant vampire. He plucks the stone from his staff and stares at it for a moment, taking in its warmth.

“I’m supposed to do something with this,” he says. He cautiously puts it into his mouth and bites down, then shakes his head. “Nope, not that.”

The monster looms towards him, its face a crinkled mask of hatred born from its corrupted soul.

Trost puts the stone on his head. He feels its constant pull, but once again it doesn’t work. He frowns at the gem.

The monster leaps at him, its wings propelling it forward and putting dents in the rock behind.

Trost jumps and squeezes. The stone breaks, and flame flows out.

“Oh. I remember now.”

 

 

 

“Don’t stop running!” Riyo yells, barrelling up through the uneven tunnel and hoping the ground beneath her stays solid.

“Why?!” Glitter shouts. “Where’s Mister Trost?”

“He has kindly volunteered to kill that monster for us,” Riyo says. “I’ll explain later.”

“We can’t leave him back there!” Ixel yells. “Enough people I was supposed to protect have already died. I’m going back.”

“Don’t!” Riyo says. “He’ll be fine!” She nearly trips, but stumbles back into a dead run. “Well. Not fine exactly. But he won’t die.”

“Why is it so hot?” Rolleck asks.

“We’re in a desert,” Emerald says. She has Ravi curled up in her arms.

“Yeah, they’re cold at night. This one was cold last night.”

“Keep running!” Riyo yells.

The heat keeps rising, dragging sweat from them, and then pressing into their backs like a physical wall. Ahead of them, the gloom begins to lift. With an exhausted shout, Riyo bursts out into the chill night air and slumps down on the sand, gasping the cold directly into her lungs.

“This should be okay,” she pants.

“Then explain what’s happening,” Ixel says. She is barely winded.

“Trost is more than he looks,” she manages, lying back and staring up at her new vampire friend. Behind her, the sky is starting to lighten.

“Riyo!” Emerald calls, worry in her voice. “Help.”

Heartbeat picking up again, Riyo hops to her feet and rushes over. Ravi is lying in the sand beneath Emerald, shivering as though buried in the snow.

“He’s not cold,” Glitter says. “I’d be able to feel the difference in temperature.”

“I think he’s unconscious,” Emerald says. “I can’t wake him.”

Riyo bites her cheek, then scowls. “He did it. He did a death waltz, just like the princesses.”

“What?” Emerald says.

“But there’d have to be a ghost,” Rolleck says.

Riyo spins on him and points at him, clicking her fingers. She then turns to Glitter. “How many of us are standing here, Glitter?”

“Huh? You, me, Rolleck, Emerald, the vampire lady, the teleporty lady and…” he turns to face the empty desert, “oh. Oh nooooo!”

Riyo points in the direction he is facing. “You. Ghost. Show yourself or I swear I will have Glitter destroy you.”

“He can do that?” Vale says, shimmering into being in front of her.

“I have no idea,” Riyo says.

“I definitely could,” Ixel says.

“Doesn’t matter,” Riyo says. “You did the waltz with Ravi, but you didn’t do it properly, did you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb. I’ve seen it. Instead of sharing energy, you just take it. You sapped Ravi and now he’s dying. Fix it.”

“What? No I-”

“Yes you did,” Riyo screams into her face, making her take a step back. “Now undo it.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Of course you do. You’re a ghost!”

“I’ve only been a ghost for like two weeks.” She points at Ravi. “He killed me. In Saviour’s Call.”

Riyo takes a step forward, hand curling into a fist, then stops and takes her in. The Frostburne crest on her black tunic. The patches of scales on her face. The claws growing out of her knuckles.

“Oh,” she says.

“I’ll try to fix it, but I need you to know it wasn’t intentional. It’d be a bad deal for me now that I finally have a purpose.”

“Okay. Okay.” She takes a calming breath. “Okay. Sergeant Ixel, I don’t suppose you know anything about the death waltz?”

“I’m not a sergeant anymore, and you can just call me Raith. I don’t know about the waltz, though. I’ve heard about it, but never seen it.”

“What did you do?” Riyo says to Vale. “Take me through it. Quickly.”

“I don’t know,” Vale says, looking down at Ravi. “The vampire was going to smash him and I just… jumped. Into him. After that, he was in control.”

Riyo bites her lip. “If he was in control, then he should have been taking power and feeding it back to you, not the other way around. That’s what happened when the old king took control of the princess, right?”

“Yes,” Rolleck says.

“So if he’s been taking and not giving back, why’s he the one conked out?”

“The realm of ghosts is cold,” Raith says. “They call that blue fire the Chill of the Grave manifest.”

“So he has a whole bunch of my cool ghost power in him?” Vale says.

“Yeah. Okay,” Riyo says. “That makes sense. It’s not compatible with him because he’s still alive.” She turns to Vale. “So take it back.”

“How?”

“I have no idea. Just… I don’t know. Stick your hand in him?”

“Ew.”

“You’re a ghost.”

“Yeah, I know, but… ew.”

“Just do it,” Emerald says, looming over Vale. “I happen to know that my fire can burn ghosts.”

Vale looks up and meets her amber eyes. “Okay. I’ll try.” She kneels beside Ravi and chooses an inoffensive part of his back to reach into. “Here goes.” Her fingers tingle as they pass through his feathers, and then his skin. It feels as though she is submerging her hand in icy water.

“What now?”

“It’s your power,” Raith says. “Your essence. Just… pull it back.”

“Pull…” She doesn’t have skin or nerves any longer. There is no reason she should feel cold, except that she was expecting the Chill to feel that way. She focuses on that cold feeling on the outer edge of where her skin once was and tells herself that it isn’t real, that her resistance to the sensation is nonsense.

“Oh. Oh! I think it’s working!” The sensation leaves the edge and flows inwards, up her arm and into her chest. She tries thinking of it not as cold, but as warmth, and it is as though her soul is being filled. She finds herself smiling.

Ravi’s body relaxes. His shivering stills, and he stretches out into the cool sand, his muscles losing their tension. Vale withdraws her hand, the warmth suffusing her form and becoming a gentle part of her.

Riyo lets out a slow, relieved breath.

“Good,” she says. “You and Ravi have some explaining to do, but I’ll wait for him to wake up before that. Now.” She turns back to the tunnel, just in time for flame to erupt from its mouth. Her reality opens and a wall of mass drives the licking flames down into the sand before them. With a grand sigh of hot air, the desert before them sags. Sand slides and dunes collapse, creating a depression that stretches off until darkness and the haze of the Resplendence hide its opposite edge. The roof of the opening slumps forward and spills sand towards them in a glacial cascade.

“The whole ruin collapsed,” Raith says. “What happened to Mister Trost?” She turns to Riyo. “How did that just happen?”

“Mister Trost and I have changed places once again,” a sonorous voice declares.

Flames that shine golden at their edges and white at their centre burst from the floor before them, burning fierce enough to melt dragon scales for just a heartbeat, and leaving a silhouette etched onto Riyo’s vision. Flickering golden streamers of fire spread like wings from the shoulders of the figure left behind, illuminating white robes and golden armour. A pristine hood casts a stern shadow over the mask beneath it–a twenty-four carat masterpiece carved all over with infinitesimal writing. He rests one hand on a broadsword, also gold, that is carved with a single word in a language Riyo has never seen before, but that she knows means ‘fire’.

“My name is Infernarael,” he says. “Though you may call me Trost, if you prefer.”

“A Herald…” Lieutenant Marigold whispers. Then she blinks and throws herself to the ground, forehead pressing against rough sand.

Riyo glances at her, then looks back to what was once Trost. “A what?”

“A being of eternal light, according to the Holy Writ,” Rolleck says, eyes wide and pinned to the being. His sword is yearning for violence, to test a creature of power beyond power. “There are only four Heralds of the Word. Air, Earth, Water and…”

“Fire,” Infernarael says. “Indeed. I have been hidden for longer than I know. My siblings are lost, somewhere in this world. The time of our Words is past, now. The mortals no longer need our strength, and so we took our places among them. To hide powers such as ours, however, takes a toll. We must all but forget everything.”

“And become a crazy old coot?” Riyo says.

“Quite,” Infernarael says. “Wax the noodles, Riyo.” There is mirth in his voice.

Riyo smiles. “So what now?”

“I must go back. There is enough memory hidden within my mind as Trost to recognise situations that call for my true power. When the Misfortunes reveal themselves, so shall I. My power will be needed again, but for now…”

As the sun breaches the horizon directly behind him, burnishing the gold at his shoulders, another crack of perfect flame rushes sand into the air and forces them all to look away. When they look back, Trost is lying on the ground in Infernarael’s place. The sunlite stone makes a dent in the sand in front of him, and Riyo steps forward and picks it up.

Trost’s eyes shoot open, and he casts about.

“The pheasant has no agenda,” he says, then blinks up at Riyo.

“Hi,” she says, offering him the glowing stone. “This is yours.”

“Yes it is.” He snatches it from her palm and sniffs it. “I feel like I should put it on a stick.” He looks at Riyo again. “Do you have a stick?”

“No, sorry.” Riyo glances around at her friends.

“I do,” Emerald says, and reaches into one of the pouches on her leather harness. She draws out a single seed, held delicately between her claws, then drops it to the ground and kicks some sand over it. “May I?” She holds her hand out to Trost.

He looks at the stone for a long moment, then shrugs and deposits it in Emerald’s palm. She again grips it between two claws and holds it over the buried seed, then closes her eyes. For a moment there is silence as the sun warms the desert, then a shoot reaches out towards the sky. It grows quickly, straight as a sunbeam, and grips the stone in spring-green fingers. Emerald lets go, allowing it to wrap the stone like a cage, and then it ages. In a few moments, the green of new life is the gnarled brown of ancient wood.

The staff breaks free of its roots and topples to the ground.

“Fancy,” Trost says. “Have you considered pursuing a career as a greenhouse?” He picks up the staff and admires it. “You would make an excellent greenhouse.”

“What will you do now, Mister Trost?” Riyo asks.

“Trost… yes. That’s my name.” He hops backwards and waves his staff at them. “But who are you?”

“I’m Riyo Falsemoon,” Riyo says. “You don’t remember it, but you really helped us out last night. I wanted to thank you.”

“I did? Well, of course I did. I’m a hero, and that is what heroes do, young lady.”

“So, what will you do?”

Trost scratches his head, then points in the vague direction of Westunnel. “My spider-senses tell me there is a town over there. Do they have wiffle juice?”

“They do. I hear it’s good.”

“Then I will go there and drink my fill.” He begins trudging through the sand, bare feet leaving perfect prints.

“Mister Trost!” Riyo calls. “Wax the noodles!”

He looks at her blankly for a moment, then taps his temple. “Silky smooth.”

“What will you do?” Lieutenant Marigold asks once Trost has turned back to his trek across the wasteland.

“We probably shouldn’t go back,” Rolleck says. “We caused too many problems there.”

“I can have the information we sent back to the Intelligence Committee about you rescinded,” she offers. “Say it was a mistake.”

“Will they believe you?” Emerald says.

“I… I don’t know. Even if they did, if the people who wanted you stopped in the first place are in a position to, they will ignore me. Having an independent member of the Force determine you are criminals will make things a lot easier for them.” She looks down at the sand. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Riyo says cheerily. “We’ll go to Horologium. It can’t be that much further.”

“You obviously have no idea how big this desert is,” Raith says. “Horologium is days away.”

“Oh.”

“I’m not carrying Ravi all the way across the desert,” Emerald says. “Even if it does make me sound dashing.”

“I think I’ll go to Horolgium too,” Raith says. She plucks her badge from her pocket and looks it over again. “Here, Lieutenant.”

Marigold shakes her head. “I don’t have a right to take that. I’m… I’m going to lie on my report. I’ll tell them what happened to your father, that he was killed after engaging with the intent to kill, and after flagrantly ignoring my orders and killing another member of the Force. That ought to ensure you all aren’t charged with his murder. I’ll just say you’re missing, presumed dead. That way no one will be looking too hard for you, and you can slip through the bureaucratical cracks without a dishonourable discharge.”

“But… why?”

“Well, judging by the sun, the morning train will be coming in from Frosthold in about an hour. If you heave for the tracks now, you could hail it down and use your badge to catch a lift.”

Raith looks down at her badge, then smirks. She pockets it and salutes.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Marigold salutes back. “Thank you, Sergeant. You served well.” She turns to the rest of them. “Good luck. The Force has a permanent presence in Horologium. The Thieves Guild too.”

“Pfft,” Riyo says. “We’ll just slip through before they notice we’re there.”

Rolleck and Emerald glance at each other and give a simultaneous sigh.

“Goodbye, Sergeant Ixel,” Marigold says, then turns to follow Trost.

“Erm,” Raith says, glancing around. “I’m not sure where you’re all going, but if Elvolar Lightseer and the Committee members who oppose him are going to try and get in your way, I suppose that means eventually you’ll come face-to-face with them?”

“Oh, I’d imagine so,” Rolleck says.

“Pessimism doesn’t suit you, Rolleck,” Riyo says.

“Yes it does,” Emerald says. “It’s his whole thing.”

“You can hardly talk,” Rolleck bristles.

“I think you’ll find that I am a font of hope and good vibes.” Emerald kneels and picks Ravi up again. “We should get going.”

“Oh, um…” Raith says. “It’s that, I was just going to ask…”

“Yep, we know,” Riyo says. “And yes, of course you can come along.”

“Yay!” Glitter says. “New friend!”

“Can I be your friend too?” Vale asks.

“Ah! Ghost!”

“Hmph. Well I’m coming anyway. I have to follow my master.”

“Master?” Emerald says, raising her eyebrows. Then she shakes her head. “I don’t want to know.”

Rolleck puts a hand on Raith’s shoulder as she stares dumbly at the rest of the group.

“You get used to it.”

“We have a lot of fun,” Riyo says with a grin. “Now come on. If we miss the train, we’ll have to walk through the desert all day, and you’re already looking a little sunburned.”

“Vampires don’t get… Oh.” Raith sits down heavily in the sand and puts her hand against her forehead. “Oh.” She squeezes her eyes closed.

“Ohhhh,” Riyo says. “You drank my blood. The sun’s going to hit you a lot worse today, isn’t it?”

She gives a miserable nod.

“Hey, I have an idea,” Glitter says. Snow billows from his shoulders and twirls into shape before compressing to become ice. It begins sweating immediately, but for a while, at least, it will hold the form of a parasol. Beneath its shade, Raith is able to pull herself to her feet.

“Thank you,” she says.

“Don’t mention it,” Glitter says, drawing on a smiley face.

They begin their journey again, falling into the comfort, and then discomfort, of the desert heat.

“So,” Rolleck says.

“Hmm?” Riyo says.

“The Heralds are real.”

“Do you hold to the Word?” Vale asks.

Rolleck shakes his head. “I’ve always figured I’m beyond redemption anyway.”

“Hey, me too!”

“Then what does it matter?” Emerald says.

“Well, it’s still quite a significant truth that we all now share.”

“Pfft,” Riyo says. “It’s not like anyone would believe us if we told them.”

“I suppose.” Rolleck stares out at the shimmering horizon. “It does make me feel a little bad for not believing, though.”

“Thinking of taking up religion, then?”

“No,” Rolleck says. “That’s the annoying thing. The Heralds are real. I’ve spoken to one. Yet I’m still no more inclined to believe in the Writ.”

“Faith is strange,” Raith says. Her breath comes heavily and sweat drips over her rosy features. “You have it, or you don’t. if you do, it can go unbroken even when your whole world is turned upside down. If you don’t have it, you can’t just pick it up. Even if you have an encounter with the divine.”

“Do you believe?” Vale asks. “Because that would be pretty funny.”

Raith scowls at the ghost. “I do, as it happens.”

Vale snorts a laugh. “The Word is supposed to repel vampires. Everybody knows that.”

“Well it doesn’t.” She undoes the top button of her uniform jacket and turns the collar outward, revealing a silver scroll pin.

“You’re an ordained Scribe?” Vale says flatly.

“It was never about the grand stuff, for me. I didn’t think the Heralds were real, to be honest. But my father made me an outcast, tried to force me to think of myself as something separate from and above others. He tried to mould me into himself. I ran away, though–as a teenager, obviously, because most of us do. I met a Scribe, and the Word gave me a connection to people that I never knew existed. For me it was about a way of seeing the world. The idea that everything came from the first utterance of the Word means that we’re all fundamentally the same. We share the same essence. The same potential for good and for evil. It means a vampire can be a Scribe. It means a dragon can be a dryad. It means a crazy old man can be a Herald. My faith just… makes the world make sense.”

“I like that,” Riyo says. “It means we can all be friends.”

“Well I don’t get it,” Vale says. “Who would want to be connected to people?”

“I can see that we are going to get along,” Raith says dryly.

“Don’t worry,” Vale says. “I have trouble getting along with most people. I hung out with a cat for a while. He’d bring me mice to eat sometimes, and I’d give him bits of meat from the market. But then he died.” She shows a smile, but everyone else is frowning at her. “What? I got lizard traits and lizard appetites. Or had, I guess.”

“It’s been a long night,” Riyo says slowly.

“There’s the tracks,” Emerald says, dragging them free of the uncomfortable moment with an audible release of air.

“And the train,” Raith says, a note of desperation in her voice. She makes to sprint for it, but her first step seems to sink much too deep into the sand. She barely keeps herself upright as a wave of dizziness rolls over her.

“No rush,” Riyo says, cracking her knuckles. “For once, I’m not the one completely taken out after a fight. And I’ve had practice stopping trains. Let’s go, Emerald.”

Emerald grins. “Somebody carry Ravi. We’ll be waiting for you on the train.”

“You should take my badge,” Raith pants, but they are already gone. She watches them growing smaller, the haze of the desert air stealing their true shapes. “It would be so much simpler…”

“We don’t really do simple,” Glitter says. “Hey. Do you know any good songs?” A scoop of snow lifts Ravi carefully onto his head. Though flat once more, the metal is still a little warped from Emerald’s ad-hoc blacksmithing job. “We could sing while we walk.”

“Umm, I know a few hymns,” Raith says.

“Great! I like hymns–they have good harmonies. Rolleck-”

“No.”

“Boo.”

“I can sing,” Vale says.

“Ah! Ghost!”

“Oh come on. We’ve been walking together for ages.”

“Sorry. I’m easily frightened.”

“That’s a shame. Most of the songs I know are the wails of tormented spirits.”

“Umm, maybe we should start with hymns,” Glitter says, voice trilling a higher note than usual.

“I guess,” Vale says.

“Yay. Let’s do The Word of Friendship.”

“A bit on the nose, isn’t it?” Rolleck says.

“Hush. I have new friends, and I want to sing about friendship with them. Do you have a problem with that?”

Rolleck gives a rueful smile. “Of course not. It’s very you, Glitter.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want it to be anybody else. Let’s start on four. One, two, three…”