Sparrow Hawk and Lightning Book 2

by S.Hagen

A mutiny has cost Sparrow Hawk her ship, but she has been chosen as Solar Exalted of the Unconquered Sun. Alone, confused, and in the lands of the Marukan Alliance with both enemies and allies, from this age and prior, after her. (Mature Content) (Updated March 2018)

Sparrow Hawk and Lightning
by Shawn Hagen
Updated February 2018

Cold air found its way under the thick, canvas pants and fur lined, leather jacket, stroking Sparrow Hawk's skin like the hands of an inconsiderate lover. The wind whistled by her, in her ears sounding like curious whispers. Perhaps they were whispers, some nosy air elemental wanting to know about the human so high above the earth, plummeting towards Creation. Wanting to know why her eyes were closed and she seemed so calm about her impending doom.

Still she fell, falling through the wispy clouds and frigid air, eyes closed, arms and legs spread out. It was, she thought, comfortable. It was like she was lying upon the softest of mattresses; she might almost fall asleep.

The air felt warmer. Sparrow opened her eyes, blinking against the stinging wind that her fall created. The ground seemed closer. Much closer.

Any time now, she thought, spinning herself lazily in the air.

Sparrow hit the ground with enough force to shatter stones, throw a shower of loose dirt into the air, and leave a deep impression in the soil.

A moment later she stood up in the small crater she had created. Her clothing was tattered, the seams of her canvas pants having split, the leather jacket was torn, wool stuffing hanging out from the damaged areas. However, she was unharmed. On her forehead glittered a half circle with lines radiating from the curved section.

Turning she raised her fist to the sky and called out, "Give me my ship back you yeddim shit eating bastard!"

Nothing happened. Far above Sparrow, partially masked by clouds, she was sure she could make out the black dot that was her airship, Blue Sky Lover. It was not turning about and coming for her. After a few seconds of pointless fist shaking, she stepped out of the hole in the ground and walked some distance away. She shed her leather jacket, no longer needing it, and took a moment to examine her few belongings.

Her knife had broken on impact. The hilt and the hand-span remnant of the blade might make a useful tool, but not much of a weapon. Her spyglass was a complete loss, the lenses shattered and the brass tubing crushed. The chocolate was smashed up, and her marijuana cigarettes were bent. Both chocolate and cigarettes were salvageable.

So she sat on the bank of a small creek, her jacket tucked under her bottom for a little padding, smoked a twisted cigarette and ate some crushed chocolate.

All things considered, she supposed things could be much worse.

Several minutes later the sound of hoof beats suggested that she might soon be learning how much worse they could get.

The area she was in was open grasslands dotted with small hummocks. She might hide if she so chose. Still, she was going to have to deal with the people who lived around there sooner or later.

They came between two hummocks, a group of over twenty horsemen, dressed in armour, carrying lances. They slowed their horses as they approached, spreading out, each rider looking about, looking for threats.

Sparrow stood, tossing the butt of her cigarette into the water of the stream, wrapping the chocolate back up in its paper cover, sliding it into a voluminous cargo pocket of her pants.

One rider moved out into the lead, a large man, his armour coloured black and tan, his horse a chestnut stallion. He brought his horse to a halt some distance away from Sparrow, lance held ready. "Who are you?" he demanded.

She answered truthfully, "I am Sparrow Hawk, sometimes called Sparrow of the Eyrie. If it would not be imprudent, can I ask who you are and where I am?"

"Where you are?"

She nodded.

"You are in the lands of the Marukan Alliance. I am Charan of the Daivos clan. Now, tell me, how you can not have known where you are."

The other horseman had begun to spread out, moving around in a large circle, some watching her, other's looking outward.

Sparrow shrugged her shoulders and said, "I fell out of my airship. I don't really pay too much attention to what country I am flying over until it is time to land."

He said nothing for several seconds, merely staring at her. "You expect me to believe that?"

She looked back over her shoulder. "You can find the crater in the ground where I hit."

Several seconds passed as one of the riders went to confirm the existence of the crater. And then once it had been, Charan said wanted to know how, even if it were true, she had survived such a fall.

"Luck?" Sparrow suggested for she was not entirely certain herself. And she did not want to speak about her suspicions.

"Or perhaps the favour of the gods," he said in a light tone that made it clear to Sparrow that Charan did not believe her.

She nodded and said, "Could be, maybe they like me."

He gave her what Sparrow recognised as an appraising look, and she could not help but feel a little insulted by what she saw in his eyes.

He was seeing a short, thin girl; small breasted and slimmed hipped, with short, mousy brown hair and large brown eyes. She knew she was no great beauty, but Sparrow figured she pretty enough to attract a god's attention. And she was beginning to think that was just what she had done.

"You have no papers?"

She shook her head.

"No identification of any sort?"

She shook her head.

"Do you have anything with you?"

"Chocolate and smokes," she said.

Charan actually laughed, which Sparrow took as a good sign. But it was just a short laugh. "We'll have to take you into custody until we can be certain you are not a spy."

"But…." Sparrow said.

He shifted in his saddle and brought his lance up, so it was almost pointing at her. Several other riders took similar stances.

Sparrow looked at the steel and mail arrayed against her and knew she could kill most of them. It was the same certainty with which she had confronted the mutineers' monster. The same certainty that had assuaged her fear as she had fallen. At the moment, however, most was not good enough.

"Of course," Sparrow said.

Charan whistled. A few seconds later a group of young men rode up over the rise, leading several horses. "Do you ride?" he asked.

"Very poorly."

He looked at towards the young men and said, "Saddle up the old grey, she'll ride that."

The Marukani quickly had the horse ready for her and one of the young men, she wondered if he was a squire of some sort, helped her up on the horse's back.

The old grey was a gentle enough horse, and easy enough to ride. Sparrow looked up into the sky and wished she was standing on the bowsprit of her ship, the cold air in her face.

---

He was called Cold Rain, and he was gorgeous. His skin was pale, and his blonde hair long and silky. He lay among the restless undead, zombies, a content look upon his sleeping face, as if he were upon the finest feather bed, instead of upon the decaying flesh of the dead.

The zombies and Cold Rain were at the bottom of a small ravine, the zombies lying in the small stream that ran through it, he dry atop them. It was cloaked in dark shadow, almost as if it were night instead of late afternoon.

In the dark shadow the large, black raiton was nearly invisible. It fluttered down from the tangle of thorns and bushes above and landed on the forehead of one of the zombies. Its head ducked down, its beak darting at the cloudy eye of the zombie, but Cold Rain's hand snapped out, and he caught the beak between his index and ring finger.

"Now now Baron, leave the poor dears alone," he said in a smooth, melodic whisper. He opened pale, blue eyes, and turned his gaze upon the bird. "Now tell me what you have seen." Cold Rain released his hold on the raiton's beak.

The black bird hopped back and away from Cold Rain and then spoke, in a croaking voice. "A woman fell from the sky and lived. The horse fuckers have taken her."

"Really."

The bird bobbed its head. "They come this way."

"Well then, I would like to see this woman who fell from the sky and lived."

One of the zombies moaned, its voice a liquid gurgle of a tongue that had rotted away.

Cold Rain shifted about and carefully put his hand upon the zombie's cheek, careful not to cause the skin to slough away. "I know that the Mask told us not to attract undue attention, but I think this is important." He smiled.

The zombie groaned again.

"Dear mother," he caressed the cheek with infinite tenderness, "you must stop worrying about me so." He shifted forward and kissed her on her forehead. "Now it is my turn to protect you."

---

Sparrow found the old grey a comfortable horse to ride, though her experience with such animals was limited at best. She had far more familiarity with ice boats, dog sledges, and airships. She perched upon the saddle and let the horse do as it wished. As it wished to follow after the other horses, it was easy enough.

They rode along a worn path that wound through pockets of small thickets and occasionally dipped into shallow ravines. Everyone seemed alert, scanning the area around them as they rode, each horse about seven or eight-horse lengths from the one in front and behind. Sparrow rode near the middle of that line, in a group of the young people she had decided were indeed squires.

She turned to a young woman who rode beside her, and asked, "How long until we get to where we are going?"

The woman looked about for a moment, then turned her attention to Sparrow. "We'll probably reach our camp sometime tomorrow. Could get there before sunset today, but that would require hard riding."

"And that's when you'll decide what to do with me?"

The woman nodded. "The commander can get more information, talk to a circuit rider."

"How long is this likely to take?" Sparrow had an unsettling feeling.

"Shouldn't be more than a week."

A week? Sparrow wanted to yell. Tar would be taking Blue Sky Lover farther and farther away. If she had any chance of catching him… How was she supposed to catch her ship when she was stuck on the ground?

"You really fell out of the sky?" the woman asked.

Sparrow nodded glumly. "Out of my ship. The Blue Sky Lover. A heavily modified Halsanti design. My mother gave it to me."

"Ah," the woman said, nodding. "I've seen a flying ship before."

"Really?" Sparrow asked, hope rising.

The woman nodded. "It came from Lookshy. They used it to bring in some troops."

A Lookshy flying ship? Her hopes sunk rapidly. "How long ago was this?"

"Several years ago. I was still a little girl, and our camp had been attacked by raiders from Thorns." The woman leaned to the side and spat on the ground. "The Lookshy forces came into drive the enemy away."

Sparrow nodded, doing her best to look interested, to be polite.

"How did you fall off your ship?"

"Tar," Sparrow said.

"Tar?"

"Tar Blacktooth. Mean old bastard. He was my first mate. He led the crew in mutiny against me. As we fought, I got knocked off the hull."

"And you survived the fall?"

"Lucky I guess."

She nodded.

"Want some chocolate?" Sparrow asked, reaching into her pocket.

"Please," the girl said as she reached down to lay a hand on her horse's neck. It was acting up. Sparrow noticed that her horse seemed to be somewhat nervous as well. Keeping one hand tight on the saddle horn, she reached into her pocket for her chocolate.

"Riders be wary," Charan called out loudly, "relaxed ride, weapons ready."

Around her the riders reigned in their horses, forming up in two lines, their lances directed outwards. Sparrow found herself and the young men and women between the two lines near the rear.

"Horses are smelling something," a rider to Sparrow's left said.

"What do you think it is?" a young man asked the rider.

"Not sure yet. Maybe just a wolf or something."

"Maybe something more dangerous," another rider called out.

"Shut your mouths and keep an eye on your arcs," a rider called back from further up the line. Her demeanour, tone, and the effect her words had on the other riders made Sparrow think she must be an officer.

Several minutes of silent riding passed. Sparrow fished the chocolate from her pocket and shared it out with the younger people around her.

"Riders halt," Charan called out.

Sparrow shifted in her saddle, leaning out so she could stare forward. There was a lone figure standing ahead of them. It was hard to see much about the person; she suspected it was a man; he was dressed in dark armour and carried a long weapon of some sort.

"It's a Death Knight," someone hissed.

Sparrow had heard of Death Knights, but she had, thankfully, never seen one; until now. She felt safer for all the Marukanian riders around her.

"Good day," the Death Knight called out, his soft voice carrying surprisingly well.

"Riders, lances out, double line," Charan bellowed. They moved smoothly into the formation, ready to run down the Death Knight.

Then the zombies rose up, a stench rolling off them causing the horses to shift uncomfortably and the men and women the screw up their faces in disgust.

Sparrow guessed there were very nearly forty of the undead, dressed in badly stained buffed jackets and carrying spiked clubs of iron and wood. And they began to move forward, with a clumsy shamble that was deceptively fast.

Charan was calling out orders, changing his line so it could deal with the two threats. He never got the chance to finish. The Death Knight leapt across the intervening distance, as if he were flying, and landed upon the rump of Charan's horse.

The top part of Charan's body slid away from the bottom half, cut from right to left across his torso, too fast for anyone to have seen. The horse panicked and began to buck, but the Death Knight stood fast, staring directly at Sparrow.

One of the Marukanian riders swung at the Death Knight with a heavy mace, but the Knight turned it with his scythe and then cut the man's hands off at the wrists.

As the zombies hit the line of horses, swinging erratically with their clubs, the Death Knight leapt from the horse, speeding directly towards Sparrow.

A young man, chocolate still staining his lips, directed his horse in front of Sparrow, reaching for the hilt of the sabre at his side. Sparrow drove her heels against the flanks of her horse, causing it to leap forward. Kicking free of her stirrups, she dove at the man, grabbing him and dragging him from his saddle.

The Death Knight passed overhead, his blade slashing down at the space where the young man had just been.

Sparrow hit the ground, feeling a pang of guilt as she used the young man's body to cushion her blow. She rolled off of him, grabbing his sword as she did so, and came up to her feet.

The Death Knight stood not far off, holding his scythe ready. "You may call me Cold Rain," he said in a whisper, "and you will come with me to speak with my lord whether you are alive or dead."

"I would prefer alive," she said. He was, she thought, most attractive.

He laughed and smiled. "I'll see what I can do."

Sparrow thought she should be afraid. For some reason, she was not. In fact, she instead recalled a fight that she had recently had.

---

It had come up from below, a broad-shouldered, ape-like creature that had screamed as it has lifted a blood-drenched claw. Tar had stood behind it, smiling. Sparrow had not known which she found more disturbing, the blood covered monster or Tar's smile.

The ape had come at her, charging forward, swinging at her with its claws. Sparrow should have been scared, but the truth was that she was angry. Angry that that bastard Tar was attempting to take her ship. Angry that the blood on the monster's claws meant that some of her crew was dead. And, as she had drawn her cutlass, the blade sparkling in the sun, she knew she wanted the fight.

It was at that moment, as hundreds of pounds of enraged, blood-soaked, ape monster had come charging at her that she had known she was going to be all right. A voice had rung out in her ears, saying, 'Strike true child, show the spawn of the exiles the power of the sun.'

It had hit her hard, but she had not felt any pain. Her counter had been perfect, taking the monster's head off of its shoulders. Unfortunately, as she had decapitated it, it had driven her off the side of the ship. Its body had gotten hung up in some lines. Sparrow had not been so lucky.

She recalled smiling as she had fallen, staring up, sure she could see Tar looking over the side. Confident he had stared down at his dead monster with a look of disbelief on his face. She could remember calling out, 'You're next.'

---

The cavalry sabre slashed out, catching the scythe, deflecting it at the cost of a ribbon of steel being carved from the sword. That was a sharp weapon, Sparrow thought, ducking under the backswing and stabbing forward. Not a good weapon for stabbing, the sabre's tip skittered harmlessly across the black amour.

She fell back, avoiding a slash that probably would have taken off her arm. The Death Knight took the offensive, forcing her to give up ground, to defend, even as his attacks whittled away her sword. Around her the riders battled the zombies, more than once Sparrow almost tripped on one combatant or another.

As she stumbled over a dead horse she caught sight of the rider trapped underneath, dead or unconscious; she did not think he needed his mace. Using the force of the next scythe attack, she allowed herself to be pushed back, flipped over the horse. As she tucked and rolled, she grabbed the heavy mace and came up, lifting her new weapon to block the scythe.

Thin she might be, but she was mostly lean muscle, and while blade and mace head rang out like a bell, she stood fast and held his weapon off.

"Surrender!" Cold Rain demanded.

"Freeze and die," she countered, and drove the blade of his scythe down and stepped forward, swinging hard with the mace. The steel head hit him on the side, and while his armour held, he stumbled.

With confidence she drove him back, the mace raising and falling, catching his scythe blows and countering, forcing him to give up ground. The mace was chipped in places from where it and the scythe blade made contact, and each impact resulted in sparks flying up around them, but the mace held.

Unfortunately, she was beginning to think that they were a little too evenly matched. She forced him on the defensive, but could not find a hole in that defence to drive through. She began to wonder who would tire first. That scythe of his was enormous and looked difficult to wield, but the mace was cumbersome and required a great deal of effort to maintain precision strikes.

Then there was an opening. He had overextended himself slightly. Sparrow spun her weapon, forcing Cold Rain's scythe up high, and then brought her mace down directly at his skull. Her mace passed through empty air. He had disappeared.

She reacted on pure instinct. With an effort that caused the muscles in her arms to burn, she checked her weapon's downward motion. She snapped the mace back up, ignoring the pain, and swung it over her head and behind her back.

There was the sound of metal screeching on metal and scythe blade and mace met. She was driven forward onto her knees, almost pitching face first into the dirt. Instead, she managed to shoulder roll into a crouch. She could not keep her grip on the mace and ended up letting it go. Cold Rain came at her, fast, scythe transcribing a wide arc in front of him. She barely managed to twist out of the way, the blade cutting her clothing, slicing open her shirt across her belly. There was blood on his face; she wondered if she had managed to tag him with the mace after all, but it was only a transient pondering, for she had more pressing things to concern herself with.

Without a weapon Sparrow was forced to run as the Death Knight attacked her, again and again, his blade coming closer and closer with each of his attacks. Then she stopped, a long cut across her cheek from his last attack, following a commanding instinct that she could not gainsay.

Cold Rain's eyes widened as he realised she was not trying to dodge. Even if he had wanted to, he could not have stopped his swing.

The scythe blade caught her across her left shoulder, slashing down to her right hip.

Bright light caused the black blade of the scythe, and the black armour he wore, to shine, and he narrowed his eyes against it.

Amazingly unharmed, Sparrow charged at him. From the sheath on her belt, she drew her broken knife, the hilt and a hand span of the blade. He was lifting his scythe, readying for another strike. She ducked under his right arm, and drove the broken blade up, into his armpit, using the flat of her palm to hammer it home.

He grunted in pain as the broken end of the weapon punched up into his body.

Sparrow grabbed hold of his armour, swinging herself around behind him. She leapt up, climbing him as if he were ship's rigging. She swung her legs around his waist, crossing her ankles to lock herself in place as she put her left forearm across his neck, tucked her left wrist into the crook of her right arm, and then began to squeeze.

Cold Rain tried to shake her off, tried to swing his scythe around to cut her, but she was pressed tight against his back, and he could not reach her. His armour creaked under the force of her thighs, and she could feel him tense the muscles in his neck in an attempt to keep her from crushing his throat.

He threw himself backwards, slamming Sparrow between his armoured form and the ground. It hurt, but she kept her tight grip.

Then he was gone, like smoke, and she remembered how he had disappeared from under her mace blow. She kicked back onto her feet, spinning, ready for another attack from behind. He was behind her, but he was not attacking. He was staring at her; something that she almost thought was fear in his eyes. More blood was running down his face, and he was rubbing at his throat.

Cold Rain turned and fled, leaping away, moving as fast as he had when he attacked. Sparrow went after him, but she could not keep up.

He cut through three riders during his retreat, clearing a corridor for some of the zombies, but leaving most of them behind, to cover his retreat.

Cursing loudly she grabbed another mace from a fallen rider and then began to kill zombies, crushing heads and torsos. As she fought the golden light around her grew in intensity, until it was as if she stood in a bonfire of sunlight.

When the last of the zombies fell, she stopped, grounding the mace, resting on in for a moment. Then she looked around at the riders. She expected to see jubilation on their faces, at surviving, she expected a camaraderie brought about by their shared combat.

Instead, she saw fear and anger, and she saw the bright reflection of sunlight of the lacquer of their armour. For the first time, she wondered about that light.

"Demon," someone called out.

"Anathema!" another bellowed.

She looked around, confused. She saw the young man she had saved by knocking him off his horse. He was staring at her in fear. She saw the young woman she had spoken to earlier. She held her sword out and looked as if she were ready to attack.

"I'm not your enemy," she called out loudly.

One of the riders wheeled her mount around and charged Sparrow, lance lowered. Sparrow sidestepped the attack and swung the mace out, shouting out, "I don't want to fight you," even as she unhorsed the woman.

She looked at them all, meeting the gazes of as many as she could. They were frightened; they saw her as an enemy as a monster. She could, she knew, take them. They were not at their full numbers. They were tired from fighting. She could kill them all and walk away, ride away on one of their horses.

Part of her wanted to.

Instead, she hurled down the mace and yelled out, "Ice freeze you!" then turned and ran. She would kill any that came after her.

None did.

As she ran, she wondered if there was anyone in Creation who understood the concept of gratitude.

---

She told people to call her Lightning and usually bared a forearm to show them the Lightning tattoos that covered her arms to explain why. Tall, dark skin and shoulder length dark hair, she stood out, not that that seemed to bother her.

Lightning was standing on a corral fence, looking at the horses within, calling out to a handler to have one of the animals gallop or walk, to turn or rear up.

Around her was a Marukanian camp, set up beside a small river in the saddle between two hills. The grassland was dotted with small copses of trees and the tents of the Marukan. A small, temporary forge was set up near the water, smoke rising from it as the ring of steel on steel filled the air.

Lightning wore tight, wool pants, tucked into knee-high boots. Her white blouse was silk, and she wore a leather waist cincher over it. Leaning against the corral fence was a sword, sheathed in black, reinforced leather. It was nearly as long as she was tall.

"What do you think about that one," Pardue asked, pointing to a black gelding that was being trotted past them.

Pardue was a soldier from Lookshy. He was an old infantryman, now quartermaster, who had little appreciation of horseflesh.

"It's not bad," Lightning told him. "Don't offer them more than six dinars to start, don't go above ten."

He jotted down what she had said in his notebook.

Perdue asked her about a few other horses, she gave him her opinion, he wrote it all down.

Their work was interrupted by a group of riders coming in from the west, riding along the river.

"That's Charan's group," Pardue said, long familiar with the Marukanians.

"Looks smaller than when it went out." Lightning took a step up onto a higher crossbar of the fence for a better vantage.

"I wonder what happened."

Lightning shaded her eyes against the setting sun with her hand. She jumped down from the fence and grabbed her sword. "I'm going to find out."

She strode off, her long strides forcing the shorter Pardue to run after her to keep up. People watched her as she went, she was beautiful, curvaceous, easily handled her large sword; it was little wonder. No one looked at her because of the red scales that covered her cheeks, or the Moonsilver tattoos that covered her body. Not that they could see either.

As soon as Lightning came close, she heard words that focused her attention: 'Death Knight' and 'Anathema'.

"What happened?" she demanded of one of the riders, catching his gaze and holding it.

He stared at her and began to speak as if he was unaware of what he was saying. "Found a woman in the plains. Said she had fallen from an airship. Said her name was Sparrow. We were bringing her back here. A Death Knight and zombies attacked us. The woman fought the Death Knight. She began to glow. She was Anathema. She fought off the Death Knight then fled instead of facing us." He delivered it with a flat tone.

"Which way did she run?"

"West."

"Thank you," she said.

The man shook his head, looking confused, then looked at her for a moment before turning his attention back to the other riders.

Pardue had caught up with her. "What happened?"

"Don't know," she told him, and then, "I have to leave your employ. You can keep the rest of what you owe me."

"What?"

"Something came up. Take care, Pardue."

"But…"

"And don't pay any more than fifteen dinars for any of the horses they show you."

"But..."

She turned and jogged off towards Pardue's wagons, where the rest of her things were.

West, she thought. She would have to move fast.

---

Sparrow stopped as she climbed out of a ravine, staring at the setting sun. It had not, she realised, even been a day since she had last woken up on her ship. When she had woken, a short time before dawn, she had been the captain of a flying ship, on her way to Chiaroscuro to make a delivery. Now she was the victim of a mutiny, without ship, friends, and she was a demon.

She did not feel like a demon. She had even fled from people rather than fight them. That did not seem much like a demon to her. In fact, recalling the stories about the Bull of the North, she was beginning to wonder if all the tales about the golden demons that she had learned might indeed be false.

It was a better thing to wonder than if she was a demon.

She sat down on a small rock, looking about at the landscape: Ravines and low hills, rough, rocky ground, broken by the trees of a scraggy forest. This kind of land looked a lot easier to move through when she flying over it. On the ground, it seemed like a good place to break an ankle.

As she was scanning about, she spotted a small piece of something caught on the thorns of a nearby bush. She stood and walked over to it, bending over to examine it. As soon as her face got close to it, she wrinkled her nose and moved back. It reeked of something dead.

Sparrow examined the area with more attention, taking note of the way the short, patchy grass had been trampled down in places. There were also other bits of cloth, and maybe flesh, caught on other thorn bushes. She was, it seemed, following after the Death Knight. For a moment she considered turning around and heading back the way she had come, but she did not.

Cold Rain was probably trying to get out of Marukan. If she followed him, she would get out of Marukan. Of course, she would end up in Thorns, which was a place she did not think she should be. Maybe she could skirt the border between Thorns and Marukan until she reached the sea?

It was something of a plan at least.

So she kept going the way she had, following the trail as best that she could. It was harder than she had expected. She was not much of a tracker and saw few signs of the Death Knight's and zombie's passing as the light failed. She gave up looking for marks of passage and decided she would just try to keep going straight until she found something. That was when she saw him, standing by one of the scraggly pine trees.

Cold Rain, leaning upon his scythe, a large, black bird perched on his shoulder. He was staring right at her. "You are following me," he said.

Sparrow wished she had not tossed away that mace. "I know," she answered.

"Why?"

"I want to get out of this damn place."

He nodded. "The Marukani can be something of a hard people to deal with." He sniffed. "Barbarians really."

She said nothing.

"If you want, I will lead you across the border."

"What?" Sparrow asked.

"You can travel with me. It will be easier than trying to follow me. I will take you to the border of Thorns and Marukan."

"Why should I trust you? You attacked me."

"I know." He nodded. "But when I attacked you all I knew was that you were a woman that had fallen from the sky and survived. Now I know what you are, and that you are not an ally of Marukan."

Sparrow wanted to know what he thought she was, but she really did not want to hear a Death Knight in service to a monster tell her that she was a demon. She looked at him, just standing there. If he had wanted to attack her, he could have, taking her by surprise more than likely. "Okay."

She saw his teeth flash in the fading light of the day, assumed he was smiling. "Come on then. We have a long way to go, and we should get out of Marukan before there is any more trouble. I do hate causing a diplomatic incident." He walked away.

Sparrow followed after him. She was, she thought, perhaps falling for a pretty face. Or maybe it was just a friendly tone. It was nice not to be looked at as if she were a monster.

It was not long before Sparrow smelt the rotting flesh of the zombies. Slowing her pace slightly, she let Cold Rain move ahead of her, not wanting to walk into a group of shambling dead. When she finally saw them, she relaxed slightly. They were not spread out in any sort of useful attack formation, but standing in a tight group, apparently waiting.

The Death Knight slid amongst the animated dead, put his arm around the shoulders of one, and then said, "Come along my friends, we have a long walk in front of us." He did not look back as he led the zombies, apparently unconcerned if Sparrow followed or not.

The night had finished falling, only a sliver of moonlight and the stars provided them illumination. It was enough to see by, and, Sparrow noted, the zombies moving ahead of her, stinking mass they might be, were crushing down small bushes and vines that might have tripped her. It was straightforward enough following after Cold Rain and his entourage.

The man murmured softly to the zombies, and Sparrow wondered if he was plotting with them, but she put that thought aside. He would be better off plotting with the raiton that rode upon his shoulder and sometimes took to the sky for a time, then with the mindless undead.

Several hours passed and the moon was low on the horizon, the night very dark. "I think," Cold Rain said, his voice startling her, "that we might take a short rest."

It had been a long day, and Sparrow did not disagree.

Cold Rain had chosen a small clearing, bisected by a fallen tree. He took a seat on the trunk, directing one of the zombies to sit beside him, sending the others off some distance. Sparrow took a place on the trunk as well, as far from the other two as possible.

"I have something of yours," he said and produced the broken knife with which Sparrow had earlier stabbed him. He tossed it so that it landed close to her feet. She knelt down and picked up the broken weapon. It was, she noted, very clean.

"There would not have been a tip on that?" he asked. "Something that might have broken off in the wound?"

"No. It was broken in the fall." She turned the sheath at her belt upside down, and two more pieces of metal fell from it.

"Something of a relief," he said. And then asked, "Did you really fall from the sky?"

Sparrow nodded. She told him the story, a very quick version.

"So, you want to kill this Tar and get your ship back?" he asked, his left hand gently moving through the stringy hair of the zombie at his side.

"Yes," Sparrow said. "Getting my ship back is the most important though." She picked up the two pieces of her broken knife.

"Better to focus on killing him first."

"I suspect that accomplishing one will accomplish the other." She looked at the shiny, sharp pieces of metal, and then slid them into one of the pockets of her tattered jacket.

"I suppose." He was looking at the zombie, then turned towards her. "Perhaps I can help. Well, my lord and master if not I."

"And what would he want for such a favour?" she asked, not that she thought she would ask the ruler of Thorn's anything.

"I suppose you would need to discuss that with him."

"Perhaps I will."

They did not speak again until Cold Rain said, "We must move out." And he stood and looked at the bird that was perched on the log. "Baron, take the sky and see if we are being followed." He turned towards Sparrow. "It will be day soon, and we are still several hours from Thorns" he paused, "I would hate to be caught by Marukanian riders."

Sparrow nodded and got to her feet. She felt tired, but not the bone-tired exhaustion she would have thought with the lack of sleep, food, the fights and everything else. Still, she was thinking how nice it would be to fall back into her small bunk, with the clean sheets, the smell of wood and sky all around her.

But for the moment, she settled for following after Cold Rain and his zombies. When she reached the border of Thorns, she would turn south instead of continuing with him. She looked up at the sky. Some time until dawn, but with Thorns several hours away, she suspected it would be full day by the time they arrived at the border.

She stared at Cold Rain's back, at the way he often took the one zombie's hand to keep it from stumbling, always standing close to it. She wondered if he was one of those that slept with the dead. Still, she would have thought that the Death Knight could have found a better-preserved partner. Uncomfortable with such thoughts she began to think about Tar, and what she was going to do with him when she finally got her hands on him.

Entertaining several scenarios, she followed after Cold Rain, waiting for sunrise. After some time the travel became easier. The trees and twisted undergrowth were replaced with patchy grass, much easier to move through.

She crested small hill to find Cold Rain stopped, watching her. In the distance behind him, she could see far off lights, and the ground around him was flat, and tilled, and growing some sad looking corn.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I just wanted to welcome you to Thorns." He smiled.

"But you said…" Sparrow suddenly felt stupid. Why should she have expected him to tell the truth?

"I am sorry, but I wanted to be certain that you met with my master."

"I don't think so." Sparrow cast around, planning her escape.

"It is not as if you have a choice."

Behind him there rose up a host of armoured figures, perhaps as many as fifty. "Lord Cold Rain," one called out loudly, "we are here to help you with the prisoner." On the speaker's shoulder perched a black raiton. The bird rose up and flew across the intervening space to land on the Death Knight's shoulder. Again, Sparrow felt foolish.

"Not a prisoner, an honoured guest," Cold Rain said. "Unless of course, she does not want to be treated like an honoured guest." He readied his scythe.

"We are not to kill her," said the armoured speaker. "Those are the orders of the Mask of Winters."

"I'm afraid we might have to hurt her, perhaps cut off a limb or two to properly subdue her."

"As long as she is alive."

Sparrow kept control of her emotions. There was no way she could win against such a host, and if she ran, well, she could see they carried bows as well as swords. She was not going to surrender. She would have to charge the armoured men, wrestle a weapon away from one, and then fight as hard as she could. Becoming a prisoner of the Death Lord must be avoided. Perhaps she would force them to kill her.

She reached into her pocket, grasping the broken pieces of her knife.

"You should just surrender," Cold Rain said, smiling, "it will be a lot easier on you."

In one smooth motion, Sparrow pulled the fragments out and threw them. Neither was balanced for throwing. The tip of the knife went wide, hitting a zombie. The middle part flew a bit better and cut a line under Cold Rain's left eye.

Hoping that the Death Knight might be surprised into inaction for a moment, she turned and charged the armoured men, but something was already happening amongst their ranks. There were cries of surprise and pain; a body flew into the air, missing its head. The men were disorganised, trying to fall back from something that Sparrow could not see.

Then several of the armoured men were blown back from the front ranks, and in the growing light of the rising sun, a woman appeared. She was tall, and carried a daiklaive made of a silver metal the colour of the moon.

"Surrender and die," she called out, her voice carrying as she drove her weapon point first into the ground.

Cold Rain said, in a dry tone, "Don't you mean surrender or…" His voice seemed to fail him as the sleeves of the new comer's blouse exploded into a cloud of thread; her bare arms were covered in silver tattoos, around her forearms moved silver patterns like lighting moving across the summer sky.

She dropped to a knee and punched her fist into the ground. There was a crack, like thunder, and the earth around her glowed blue for a moment. Then white arcs raced outwards from her strike, flashing up out of the ground, into the armoured warriors of Thorns.

Sparrow could smell flesh burning and the tangy scent of hot metal and ozone.

As the woman shifted back to her feet, grabbing for her sword, the armoured men fell over. The few that seemed to still live thrashed about on the ground and Sparrow realised the joints of their armour had melted.

The woman lifted her Daiklaive and pointed it Cold Rain. Sparks danced along the blade's length and in her puffed out hair. "Drowned in Cold Rain by a Mother's Hand," the woman called, "run away or die. Those are your only choices." As she spoke each word was punctuated by a mini crack of thunder as lightning danced up and down her blade.

Cold Rain looked at the woman, then back at Sparrow. Then, cursing, he scooped up one of the zombies and ran.

The woman strode forward, her weapon cutting through the remaining zombies. When she reached Sparrow, she grabbed her hand. A spark zapped between them causing Sparrow to cry out.

"Sorry," the woman said. "I'll be like that for a little while. My name is Lightning; I hear your name is Sparrow. Cute. I'm here to help you. Come with me." And she started forward, pulling Sparrow along behind her.

Sparrow, feeling like a child, and not liking it, dug in her heels and broke Lightning's grip on her wrist. "Why should I come with you?" she demanded.

Lightning looked around at the zombies and the armoured bodies. "I would think that would be obvious," she snapped.

Something in Lightning's tone made Sparrow angry. "I'm not stupid. Why should I trust you?"

Lightning opened her mouth looking as if she were about to start yelling, then, with a visible effort, she calmed herself. When she spoke, she was composed. "I am here to help you. I was sent by my mentor, and I will tell you more about that later. I understand how you must be feeling. Your life has changed, I know how that feels. I can help you, a little. I know it is asking a lot, but please, trust me."

Sparrow swallowed, not sure what to say. She had trusted Cold Rain after all. No, she thought, she had not trusted him, she had just thought she was smarter. Something of a mistake it appeared. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"Away from Thorns, south immediately. There is a place where you can rest, and we can discuss what to do."

"Alright," Sparrow said and nodded.

Lightning reached out and grabbed her hand once more. There was another spark, but Sparrow was ready for it and did not cry out. She followed after Lightning, letting the taller woman pull her along.

"Where exactly are we going?"

"As far from here as we can get."

"Not into Marukan."

"Yes, I know," Lightning said. "No doubt they have a group of their Terrestrials coming to the area." Horns sounded off in the distance. "Damnation and death, the little bastard was faster than I thought. Can you ride?"

"Poorly." Did Lightning have horses hidden around somewhere, Sparrow wondered.

"Get on my back," Lightning told her, slowing her pace slightly.

"Pardon?"

"It will become clear soon enough. Now get on my back."

Feeling a little stupid, and somewhat childish, she did as the other woman asked, wrapping her arms around Lightning's shoulders, and her legs around her waist.

"Hold on tight," Lightning said, starting to run.

She moved, Sparrow thought, surprisingly fast for someone so burdened, but not much faster than they had been moving before. The shifting of Lightning's body surprised Sparrow, and at first, she thought the other woman was trying to throw her off, but then she realised that Lightning was changing into something else.

It frightened her, a little, but it also caught her curiosity, so instead of releasing her hold, she held on and watched.

Lightning's back lengthened, muscles shifted. Her clothing disappeared, but her bare skin was covered in red scales. The changes happened so quickly Sparrow could hardly track them all. It seemed as if one moment she had been riding on a woman's back, and now she was on a vicious looking lizard, larger than a man. A pair of metal brackets, apparently riveted into Lightning's shoulder bones and containing precious looks stones, caught Sparrow's interest, but she did not think on them for too long.

She had seen too many strange things that day to focus on any one of them for long.

Lightning, in her new form, began to run low to the ground, her clawed hindquarters digging into the ground and propelling them forward at breathtaking speed. The sound of the horns fell away quickly, and the stunted growth changed to grassland covered in patchy scrub. That soon changed to new growth forest.

Lightning kept up her speed, weaving in between trees. Sometimes Sparrow had to close her eyes and just hold on, so terrifying it seemed. Sometimes it was that she was sure they would crash into a tree, or when they would go hurtling over a river or ravine.

The sun was full up when Lightning began to slow. The trees around them had grown tall, and every now and then the evergreens were replaced by hardwood. They started moving up a rocky slope, Lightning's powerful legs driving them upwards. Then they broke from the tree cover, the crown of the hill covered in old stone ruins, not yet reclaimed by the woods.

Lightning came to a stop and then shook herself. Sparrow took that as the cue to dismount, and she slid off her back. She stumbled, her legs had gone to sleep during the long ride, but she caught her balance and turned to look at Lightning.

She had never seen such a creature as Lightning had taken the form of, but she had heard of claw striders, and could only assume that was what she was looking at.

Then the claw strider began to change, getting smaller, the red scales fading, and clothing reappearing. Lightning stood in front of her, looking much like the first time that Sparrow had seen her. She noticed that on Lightning's brow there glimmered a round circle, the colour of the moon, the colour of the silver tattoos that covered her body. And there were red scales along her cheekbones.

Lightning saw her looking and nodded. "Yes, I'm a shape-changing demon, just like your nurse used to tell tales of in the nursery." She smiled.

"I'm not sure I believe those stories any longer." She paused. "And I never had a nurse or a nursery." Sparrow looked around the area, and then back at Lightning. "What is happening here?" she asked in a plaintive tone.

"That is a long story," Lightning said, and started up the hill, towards some extant ruins.

Sparrow followed. "Is there a short version?"

Lightning laughed. "The short version is that we both carry the power of a god within us, a power that has been carried by other great heroes throughout the ages. Ones like you, who are blessed by the sun, have not been seen in a very long time, but now you seem to be back in large numbers."

"What does that mean?"

"It means," Lightning said, turning about on the threshold of a ruined building, "that you are Exalted by the Unconquered Sun, as I am Exalted of Luna."

"Like the Terrestrial Exalted?"

Lightning laughed, "As a hurricane is like a thunderstorm. We are more powerful than the blooded." She turned and stepped into the ruin. "Of course," her voice drifted back from the shadows within, "we are more few."

Sparrow followed her into the building. For a moment she could see nothing, but her eyes adjusted to the shadow within and she saw a small, clean room. Part of the roof was caved in. On the clean, stone floor was a patch of black ground, suggesting fires had sat upon it. It seemed to be a campsite of sorts.

Lightning was moving some rubble, lifting heavy rocks with ease, and then removed two packs from within. "Here," she held out a pack towards Sparrow. "There are some clothes in here, none of them will be a good fit, and a blanket roll, as well as a few other things."

The pack was heavy, there was a hatchet, knife and a short sword strapped to the outside of it. Sparrow put the pack on the ground and unlashed the short sword. It was, she noted on unsheathing it, made of good steel, and had a keen edge on it.

"Thank you."

Lightning waved off her thanks. "We have lots to speak of, but you should get some rest first."

Sparrow might have disagreed, but she suddenly yawned, a jaw-stretching one that very nearly hurt. "I guess you're right."

She did not bother unpacking the bedroll, the day seemed warm enough. She took her much abused jacket and made a pillow of it.

As she lay down, she looked up at Lightning. "Have I thanked you yet?"

Lightning smiled and shook her head.

She put her head down on the jacket. "If I wake up alive and well, I'll probably do so then."

It did not take her long to fall asleep.

---

Lightning took the shape of an eagle and flew high, looking down at the area around her camp. Then, after landing, she took the form of a wolf and paced out the territory, her nose finding things the keen eyes of the eagle had missed.

She took several rabbits while a wolf, carrying them back to the hill.

When Lightning was satisfied that the area was safe, for the moment, she built a small campfire and put the rabbits on to roast.

The various domestic and security duties taken care of, she squatted down and looked at the sleeping Sparrow. She looked, well, young. Small and thin, Lightning supposed she was probably a few years older than she looked. And she had, according to the rider she had questioned, fought off Cold Rain. That meant a lot.

Still, she had expected more. Monster or hero, not some young woman who looked so damn innocent and guileless when she slept. No, Lightning told herself, don't think like that. She might be making you think that. Some of her elders had told her stories of the Solars, of vague memories. They could convince you of anything if they had a chance, which was what is all boiled down to. So, Lightning told herself, stop thinking of her as a cub that needed protection. Think of her as an equal, and be wary, Lightning thought.

Satisfied she had her thoughts ordered; she decided it was time to get things started. She used the back of her hand to waft the scent of cooking rabbit towards Sparrow. She had heard the woman's stomach rumbling. Waking up to the smell of food when hungry was, in Lightning's experience, one of the best ways to wake up.

It was not long before Sparrow's eyes opened. For a moment she looked confused, scared, but only for a moment. "Something smells good," she said.

"Just some rabbit," Lightning told her. "Hungry?"

"Very."

"I've got water and wine." She indicated two clay jugs sitting near the fire. "And there is a stream close by where you can wash up if you wish."

"Thank you," Sparrow said, and got to her feet, stretching. "I'll be back in a moment." She walked from the ruin.

Lightning resisted the urge to watch over her, to secretly follow after her. That last thing she needed was Sparrow thinking that she did not trust her. Things would probably be hard enough as it was.

Sparrow came back in, looking refreshed and cleaner. She took a seat near the fire and asked, "May I?" and indicated the rabbits.

"Please do."

She took one of the rabbits from the spit, laid it carefully on the floor, and then took the new knife from the pack. Lightning watched as she cut the meat away from the bone, took pieces of it up in her fingers, and then put them into her mouth. She would lick the grease from her fingers after each morsel.

Lightning took a rabbit for herself, tore a leg off, and worked the meat off with her teeth. She ate quickly, finishing off two of the rabbits while Sparrow was still working on the first. "Pardon me." She picked up the wine jug and took a long drink. "Try this, it's pretty good."

"Thank you."

"Alright, I'm going to try to answer your questions."

Sparrow shifted the rabbit's bones to the side and then reached for the wine.

"I don't know what sort of religious upbringing you've had, so maybe what I am going to tell you will sound like hearsay. I just ask that you hear me out before you start screaming."

Sparrow had taken a drink of wine and then put the jug back down. "Sounds serious. I will do my best not to scream 'heretic' in your face." She smiled.

"Yeah, it sounds excessive, but I've had people scream 'heretic' into my face before. What I am about to tell you I've heard mostly from others, and I am going to tell you the simple version."

Sparrow nodded and reached for another of the rabbits.

It was a long story even for being a simple version. Lightning had sat across from one of her elders and listened to him speak for almost four days straight as he told her the history of the early age. Were she to tell all the stories she knew, woven into a complete narrative, it might take a week or two. She kept it simple. The story of a great war, of champions who carried the essence of the gods, of how those champions threw down the enemy and then went on to rule Creation.

She told her of the golden age that came about, of how the world was managed and protected by these champions.

That was the easy part of the story to tell. The part that everyone had agreed on, for the most part.

Sparrow, who had finished off a second rabbit, and much the wine, was watching raptly. At least, Lightning thought, she is probably not religious.

"Of course, as you can guess, it all came to an end." She picked up the water jug and took a long drink.

"How?" Sparrow asked, almost a demand. "How could all that end? What happened that we ended up like this? It can't be what the Immaculate Order says," she shook her head, "It can't be."

"Actually," Lightning put the water jug down, "in some ways, it is like they tell. The Terrestrials battled the Solars, and in the fight, that golden age came to an end."

"Why? Why would they do that?" She nearly yelled, and there were unshed tears in her eyes.

Lightning was a little taken back by the passion that Sparrow was showing. "It depends on who you ask. I've been told it was just the jealousy of the Terrestrials, that their desire and greed led them to betray their betters to try to take the world. If that is true, they lost much more then they gained.

"But there are other stories. I've also been told that the Solars became corrupt with their powers, their petty jealousies with each other threatened to destroy everything, so they were put down like a mad animal. I've also heard it was the chosen of the Maidens who goaded the blooded into attacking, for they wanted the power that the Solars and the Lunars had.

"There are many stories of what happened back then; I don't really know which to believe, but all those who I have talked to agree on the outcome. The Solars were destroyed to the last, the Lunars fled from civilisation, and the Dragon-Bloods ruled a lesser world."

"What do you think happened?" Sparrow asked. There was a fevered look in her eyes. Lightning found it disquieting.

"I think," she paused, not sure how to answer, "I think that everyone lost their way. I don't see much point in trying to place the blame." She could tell that Sparrow was not happy with the answer. She did not give her the chance to voice her dissatisfaction but continued on. "After that, the Solars disappeared from Creation. Apparently, there were rumours over the centuries of them appearing again, in small numbers, but the Wyld Hunt always found them and destroyed them.

"The Lunars had fled to far off places after the betrayal, surviving as best they could." Lightning wondered how much she should tell Sparrow. Probably best to say very little at this point. "In time we found niches where we could live, even thrive."

"Did you ever rise up against the Terrestrials?" Sparrow asked.

"Some of us did," Lightning answered, picking her words carefully. "With varying levels of success. Most of them fed the stories of demons and anathema. Others waited, planning. Some hoped the Solars would return, and others, well, they were glad to see them gone. For all of us, well, your return has caused us all to rethink our plans, to one extent or another. This is why I am here."

Sparrow nodded but said nothing.

"My mentor, Redigost, he called me to his side a few weeks ago, asked me to repay a debt I owed him." She reached up and touched the top of her right breast, where Redigost had marked her. "He told me to travel to Marukan, to stay close to the border of thorns, and that I would hear of the coming of a Solar. Then I must find that Solar, you, and offer protection."

"How could he have known?" Sparrow asked.

Lightning shrugged her shoulders. "Redigost is skilled at reading the future in the stars they say. He saw your coming."

"Why would he want to help me?"

And there was the question that Lightning knew would be coming. Redigost had told her to lie, but Lightning was uncomfortable with such subterfuge, she had already, in a way, lied to the young woman. If these untruths were to come to light, she would lose any chance of completing the mission that her mentor had set her on.

"In the age before, the power within you was carried by another. And in the age before the power Redigost carries was held by another. In the age before those two people must have known each other, and now, in this age, an echo of that connection remains."

Sparrow nodded after a moment.

"So now he wants to meet you again, for the sake of that echo, and for what he needs from you. He wants to meet at a manse." Lightning paused. "You know what a manse is?"

Sparrow sighed and nodded.

Lightning smiled. "Sorry, but just wanted to be sure. This manse, it was created by this person, the one whose power you carry. There are locks there, locks that Redigost thinks only you might unlock. He believes that the mechanism will recognise the power that you carry."

Sparrow was quiet for a moment, her fingers nervously tapping on her knee. "What does he want from this place?"

"Weapons. Weapons of Moonsilver, locked within. He can't open the locks, and if he breaks them, he risks damaging the manse and the contents inside. I think he had given up on them until the Solars started returning. I think he has been waiting for you."

Sparrow frowned. She looked at her tapping fingers, seemed surprised, and then stopped herself. "You want my help."

"Yes?"

"I don't want to sound ungrateful, you did rescue me when I needed it, but why should I help? I'm sorry; I know that does not sound good, but…" She shrugged her shoulders helplessly.

"You want to know what's in it for you," Lightning said, glad that it had come this. "That's perfectly fair. There is the manse and its contents, which should be valuable. It is possible you could track it down without my help. What I am offering is my assistance. This is all new to you, and the world out there is dangerous, and even more so to a newly Exalted Solar. You have a lot to learn. I can help you learn it, and I will. I will make it my mission to protect you until you can protect yourself."

Sparrow said nothing for a time. "I still have to find my ship."

"Your ship?" Lightning had not been expecting that.

"Blue Sky Lover. My airship. It was stolen. I need to get it back."

That was something of a complication, Lightning thought. "Where is it?"

"She's on her way to Chiaroscuro, at least, that was where she was headed. I think Tar will continue that way, to finish the job and get paid."

"We'd have to head south," Lightning told her. "What we seek is in the mountains near Kirighast. It's on your way. And I can get you there much faster than you could on your own."

Sparrow appeared thoughtful.

"And I'll help you afterwards; we'll travel quick and find your ship."

Sparrow stared openly at Lightning for several seconds.

Lightning wondered if she was trying to discern the truth or pick out what had not been said.

For a few seconds, she thought Sparrow might refuse.

She was relieved with the other woman said, "Alright. I agree."

Lightning reached out to take her hand. "You won't regret it."

---

"Why do you care so much about that ship?"

Sparrow was kneeling by a mountain stream, splashing the cold water on her face. She looked up at Lightning. The Lunar was standing on a tall rock, looking up the mountainside.

They were on a broad ledge, jutting out from the side of a steep slope. Behind them were thousands of feet of rocky slope, sometimes vertical climbs, spotted with small, sturdy evergreens. Ahead of them was a slightly gentler slope, a river carved ravine providing what looked like an easy ascent.

"My mother gave it to me," Sparrow said, standing. Trickles of cold water ran down her neck, dampening the collar of her sweater. She had, in the intervening days, managed to purchase some clothes that fit her well, and had bought a good cutlass.

Lightning had, as she had promised, helped her come to grips with her new abilities, but the truth was the Lunar had not really taught her much. Sparrow found that she often knew what to do, some instinct, or memory that was not hers. Lightning gave her the vocabulary to understand it, which helped a lot, but Sparrow was teaching herself. Or remembering what had been forgotten.

"Sorry. I did not mean to offer insult."

Sparrow shook her head and adjusted her pack. "No, you didn't, and recently I have been wondering about it myself." She started up the ravine, walking along the small stream. "We'll have to get out of here if a storm blows in."

Behind her, she heard the sound of boots on the rock. "What do you mean, wondering about it?"

Sparrow did not bother slowing her pace, knowing Lightning's long legs would allow her to catch up quickly. "I was thinking about the Blue Sky Lover the other day, remembering flying through a storm, but there was a flash of memory, and I saw a huge, flying fortress. The Blue Sky Lover is important to me, but, it seems so inconsequential to the things I can do now, and the things I have these flashes of."

"But it is a gift from your mother. Your inheritance."

Sparrow nodded. "Still, it's just a thing, and mother always told me not to overvalue things too much. Maybe," she paused, "maybe if it were anyone other than Tar I might let it go, but I can't, not with him commanding her."

"Why did you even have him on your ship?" Lightning asked, jumping up a small raise that Sparrow had to climb.

"He was good at his job, and I trusted him. That's what really bothers me," she accepted assistance that Lightning offered and let the other woman pull her up, "that he abused that trust."

"So what are you going to do when you find him?"

"That I'm not sure of," Sparrow said. "It will come to me when I see him."

"I'm in favour of making him eat his guts."

"It seems like a good idea." She stopped and looked up the mountain. "It's too bad you can't turn into something big enough to carry me up there."

"Next time I am near Metagalapa I'll see what I can do."

---

The top of the mountain had been cloven, cut as if by a sword several hundred yards into the rock. And the sides of the cut were covered with polished, semi-precious stones and quartz. Each one caught the suns light, reflecting it into other gems. So precise had the stones been set and polished that the light was contained within the cleft, none leaking out.

Lightning, shielded her eyes from the glare, but Sparrow stared into it, though it made her eyes water a little. "Incredible," she breathed.

"It's impressive and well hidden." Lightning blinked her eyes and formed a nearly opaque, nictitating membrane against the brightness.

"It is almost as if I have seen this before," Sparrow said, stepping forward, then stopping. "It's weird."

"I know that feeling. You get used to it."

"Hope so." Sparrow set off, feeling more confident. She was, she felt, coming home. But it was not her home. Or was it? She shook her head. She was not sure she wanted to become used to such things, these alien ideas in her mind.

Ahead of her, the rock rose up, like a wall. A set of stairs, carved from the stone led up to a vast doorway, flanked by a pair of matching statues: A tall, imposing man, with four arms, holding a lance, a shield, a laurel and a horn. The Unconquered Sun, she thought and slowed to stare up at the handsome, stern face. She had heard his voice speak to her on the Blue Sky Lover. Sparrow stared up raptly, wondering if she would hear his voice again, desiring it.

However, this time, he was silent.

"All the light is reflected onto the statues. It is a lot brighter here too."

"Any mortal would be blinded by now," Sparrow said. "Even the Blooded might be, for a time. And at night they continue to glow that brightly."

"Good defence."

"Yes," Sparrow said, smiling at a wash of pride she felt then frowning as she realised what she felt. She had not created the statues, though for a moment a half-recollection of the stone being shaped flashed through her mind. "Let's go."

Stopping at the top of the steps Sparrow reached out and touched one of the statues. She expected it to be warm, maybe even hot, but instead, it was cool, like any of the mountain stone this high up. She rested her hand on the smooth surface for a moment, trying, she realised, to recapture that feeling she had when his voice had spoken to her.

Sighing, she took her hand away and stepped into the doorway, into the heart of the mountain. After the intense light outside, the darkness within blinded her, and she had to wait a few second for her eyes to adjust. While she waited, Lightning stepped by her, moving deeper into the space beyond the threshold.

"There is nothing here," Lightning said.

"I'm sure there is," Sparrow told her, impatient at the fact her eyes were taking so long to adjust.

"It must be well hidden."

The floor, Sparrow began to see, was flat, and unmarked, covered with a fine layer of dirt and dust, as well as other bits of detritus. It was also marked by Lightning's footprints. As her vision came back to her, she saw the walls, carved smooth, meeting at perfect corners. She looked upwards and saw that someone stood on the ceiling above her. She gasped. Lightning expressed surprise as well.

"It a mirror," Sparrow said.

"Why put a mirror on the ceiling?"

Sparrow suddenly giggled, unable to help herself.

"Other than that," Lightning snapped.

"I don't know," Sparrow admitted, but an idea was forming in the back of her mind.

"Is this the manse then?" Lightning asked. "It does not really feel like one."

"No," Sparrow told her. "It's just the entryway."

"How do we open the door then?"

Sparrow started walking forward, her caste mark beginning to shine. "I think I'm the key." Around her an aura of golden light formed, the light reflecting off the mirrored surface above, filling the large, square room with light.

Beneath her feet, a section of floor began to move. Surprised, she jumped back. Dust and dirt leapt out of a seam in the floor as a circular section began to turn. Sparrow looked down at it and then started to walk around it. But another circular part of the floor began to turn. This time she did not jump off, but let it spin her around to the far side where she stepped off, onto another part of the floor, which was turning as well.

There was a pattern of intersecting circles on the floor, some hollow, some full, the dirt of centuries had filled the spaces between them, but now, as they turned, they were revealed. It filled the room with dust and Sparrow coughed as she traversed the moving floor, making her way to the centre of the room.

Lightning followed, jumping between areas of stillness, or the centres of spinning circles. Sparrow might have done the same, were her eyes wholly recovered.

She reached the centre of the room, Lightning was already there. It was a circle, unmoving, none of the other circles intersected with it, but three, narrow bands of concentric stone spun lazily around it. As Sparrow stepped over them, they began to glow in places, soon forming Old Realm characters.

"It's spreading," Lightning observed.

Around the room, along the edges of the glowing circles, more of the Old Realm characters appeared, glowing with a soft, golden light.

"I think it is the history of this place. And don't be afraid."

"Afraid of…"

The three, concentric circles around the stone they were on began to spin on a central axis, raising out of the floor, passing overhead, slowly at first, then speeding up.

"Might take your head off." Lightning ducked down a little.

"Look up."

Lightning did so. "We're not reflected in the ceiling. The circles are not spinning either."

"Keep looking."

"Why?"

"This is the way in."

"How?"

Then they were standing in the centre of the room, all of the circles still, the floor clean. Both, still staring up, saw the place they had just left reflected within, all the circles still spinning. "Amazing," both said almost at once.

Sparrow laughed. She felt a strange tingle on her skin, not at all unpleasant.

"This is the manse," Lightning said.

Sparrow nodded. "It all seems so familiar and so strange at the same time."

"It would."

There was a doorway leading out, same as the room below, or above. Sparrow started towards it. Sometimes she would look up, seeing herself walking across the floor of spinning circles, and yet not spun by them.

Instead of leading outside, the doorway opened into a large room, brightly lit, the floor covered in mosaic tiles, galleries carved into the high walls, stairways leading up, bridges crossing overhead. Sparrow had the sense of a considerable space. There was so much to see: planters overgrown with thick, green plants, statuary, paintings, and more. There was an immense tapestry hanging down from the ceiling on the far wall, the colours on it shifting as she watched.

However, what focused Sparrow's attention was the strange object that rested in the middle of the floor. She walked towards it, thinking that it looked like a goose, with wings, a long neck and the head. It was, she realised, a flying ship. It was twice the length of the Blue Sky Lover, beautiful curves and a design that spoke of speed. She could hear Lightning coming behind her, but she did not look back.

On reaching the strange ship, she lifted her hand and put in on its metal skin. Blue jade alloy, memories that were not hers supplied; she was getting used to differentiating between her memories and those that were external. Thin lines of gold and silver ran the length of the ship, as far as she could see. Orichalcum and Moonsilver. "I hope this is not the weapon that your mentor wants," she said.

"I don't know. What is in here? It's huge."

"I don't know. You could house an army in here. I'm certain you could find forges and workshops. I think," she paused, "I think there is a farm of some sort in here as well."

"It will take days to explore. And there might be defence systems." Lightning's posture shifted, it was obvious that she was growing wary. She lifted her head and turned the way they had come. "We're not alone here."

"What?" Sparrow turned as well, reaching for her sword.

Lightning's face had shifted slightly, her nose and jaw growing slightly. "I know that scent. What is he doing here?"

"Who?"

"Redigost."

"Your mentor?"

Lightning nodded and started walking back the way they had come. Sparrow followed.

"I suppose he could have been waiting here, or close by. He knew where this place was, but I thought he was too busy. That's why he had to send me."

"Should I be scared?"

Lightning looked back at her. Her face had returned to normal. She smiled. "No. You can trust him."

Sparrow nodded, the reassurance making her feel better.

Redigost, when she saw him, stepping through the doorway, was a large man. Broad across the shoulders, tall, he was hairy, his face flat and his eyes wide spaced. He was not, she thought, unattractive, his appearance striking, and a little menacing. He wore a loose robe, over a Moonsilver breastplate; his bare arms were covered in silver tattoos and scars.

"You did well," he called out, a deep voice. "You have my thanks, Lightning."

"Thank you Redigost. This is Sparrow."

He turned his full attention on her and Sparrow found herself hesitating, slowing her walk.

"It has been a long time," he said, softly.

Lightning had stopped. Sparrow stopped as well, just behind Lightning. She was not sure about what was happening. Something seemed off.

Redigost moved forward, his bare feet quiet on the mosaic. "I have memories of this place, but I never thought that I would walk here again."

Sparrow was about to welcome him but decided not to. This place may have belonged to the person who held her power, but she did not feel confident it belonged to her. Not yet at least.

He stopped in front of her. She had to look up to meet his eyes.

He stared down at her, and then reached out a hand towards her. She reached out and took his. Her hand disappeared into his. He smiled. Sparrow found herself wishing he would let go of her hand. Then, with the flexing of his fingers, he broke the bones in her hand.

For a moment she merely stared, the pain in her hand did not seem if it belonged to her. Then she screamed.

"What…" Lightning said.

"Now is the time for vengeance," Redigost bellowed, and he lifted Sparrow from the floor above her head, and with two hands hurled her across the room.

As much as her hand hurt, Sparrow's mind was clear enough, and when she hit the ground, her skin was like iron. She was unharmed, though her pack was torn from her shoulders as she skidded across the floor. She rolled to her feet, cradling her broken hand.

Redigost was charging her, bellowing. She was reminded of an angry yeddim. He was quick, much quicker than he appeared, altering his path even as she tried to dodge, slamming her with one of his massive hands.

Again she countered, her skin growing hard enough to turn the blow, but she was still sent sprawling back. And he was coming after her, hitting her again, and then his foot snapping out, kicking her, sending her flying, twisting, into the air.

She heard Lightning yelling, but Sparrow did not give her the meaning of the words any attention, though Lightning did sound angry. She came down, face first, onto the ship's wing, hard enough to dent the metal. She was sliding off when Redigost grabbed her, slamming her face first into the ship's hull.

She was glowing brightly as he pulled her back and slammed her once more into the ship. Then he grabbed her arm, put it up behind her back, and leaned into her, his body pressing up against her, pushing her into the metal.

"If I keep slamming you into this ship, eventually you'll run out of power, then I will turn you into pulp," he said, his hot breath in her ear. "Don't make me angry!"

Did that mean he was not angry now, she wondered, tears in her eyes from the pain. Why was he doing this?

"Why are you doing this?" Lightning demanded, her voice strident. "Stop this. Leave Sparrow alone!"

"Stay out of this Lightning!" He yelled. He must have turned his head away for she could not feel his breath. "This is between her and me, for crimes in a previous age. Crimes that must be redressed."

"You can't hold Sparrow responsible…"

"Silence! You do not know what you are speaking about. You do not know the crimes she is guilty of!"

"I don't know the crimes I am guilty of!" Sparrow screamed.

"Shut up!" He twisted her arm violently, dislocating it.

Sparrow screamed.

"Stop it," Lightning yelled.

"I will not stop it. Do not forget yourself Lightning. Your debts are not cancelled yet!"

Lightning said nothing.

"In the first age, my shard belonged to Paima, consort of Hayabusa, who carried your shard." His breath was on her face again. "He did things to Paima so terrible I cannot give them words, but you will experience similar, be certain of that. Hayabusa's actions haunted the lives of those that came to bear Paima's power. It destroyed their lives. You do not know how often it was hoped that you would be in the position you are now."

"I don't know what you are talking about," Sparrow shouted as she tried, vainly, to break Redigost's hold.

"I'll make you remember!"

"Please," Lightning begged, "please don't do this. It is insane."

"I told you to shut up! Paima was destroyed by her, turned into nothing but a pet and a broodmare by a man who had dreams of dynasty. She carried the power of the greatest heroes, and she was made into nothing. Violet, who came after Paima, almost never slept because of the nightmares that eventually drove her mad. Knott, who came after Violet, was obsessed with a pointless quest for revenge and accomplished nothing. It almost destroyed me as well! I was strong enough, strong enough to last and see the time come when our enemy would be delivered to us. And I will have revenge for all of them."

Sparrow hurt too much to say anything.

"This is not Hayabusa!" Lightning screamed.

"It is close enough for me," Redigost screamed back.

"You can't…"

"I can! I will! And if you try to stop me I'll beat you into submission, and for my debt, I will have you break this Solar for me! Now get out and help my people!"

Sparrow did not think she had ever heard a more lonely sound, ever felt more alone, then when she heard the sound of Lightning's footsteps as she walked away.

Redigost's breath was hot against the side of her face. His body pressed up against her. She could feel his muscles and skin shift, and his body grew heavier, fur instead of skin brushed her flesh.

"I'll treat you like he treated Paima," he said, his voice guttural as if his mouth was no longer suited for speaking. "And I'll break you like he broke her. I am not a Solar, I do not possess his lying tongue, nor his other talents. My way will need to be different. But I can promise you that it will work."

He stood and yanked her to her feet. Sparrow clenched her teeth to try to keep from crying out, but a soft moan slipped from between her teeth.

Redigost pushed her back against the ship, reached into his clothing, brought out a steel flask.

"There is a demon called the noresores," he told her, his voice guttural and flat, "they consume memories of passion, but they can consume other memories, if the Weaver of Voices demands it of them, turns them into something different."

Sparrow tried to twist free, but Redigost was so strong, his muscles felt like rock, and she did not have a weapon.

"I've been collecting terrible memories, horrible memories. Memories so destructive that people were willing to trade their voices away to get rid of them."

"I am not this Hayabusa," Sparrow said.

Redigost flicked the top of the flask off. "You're close enough." He pushed his weight against her, Sparrow found it harder to draw breath.

"The act of consuming such memories and then regurgitating them destroys what the noresores become, so the Weaver of Voices demands high payments for such a favour. The contents of this flask are nearly priceless."

Sparrow could not speak, she could barely breathe.

Redigost pushed the short neck of the flask into her mouth, held her jaw, pinched her nose. He forced her to drink the contents.

It burnt like cheap whisky but tasted salty and bitter.

Her stomach roiled, and for a moment she feared she was going to be sick, but then that feeling went away, and she wished she had vomited up the contents of her stomach.

Redigost took his weight off of her, and she could suddenly breathe easily.

Before Sparrow could demand to know what he had done a memory flashed through her mind, of being in a fire and being severely burnt.

It was so intense that she cried out and fell to her knees.

More memories assaulted her, not hers, and yet they felt like hers, like something that had really happened to her. All of them were terrible, horrible things, and they came faster and faster.

"I hope you appreciate the trouble I have taken for you," Redigost said from above her.

Sparrow could not take it, and she started to scream.

She was not sure if Redigost was laughing or it came from one of the memories.

---

Lightning stayed on the periphery of the manse as the days passed. Often she thought she should just leave. Her debt to Redigost was repaid, more than repaid. She might have left if she did not know the truth of her desire. She did not want to leave, but to run away from what she had done.

So she remained, more a shadow than a physical presence, not seen that often, but watching.

Redigost was provisioning the manse, having his yeddim beastmen move in. The manse, she saw, had never been his real goal, but he would not ignore it. It would give him a foothold in the area. Revenge or not, he did not ignore that would aid him.

Her shadow like wanderings took her to the grand entrance hall. She paused as she passed by the airship, her gut clenching as she saw the dents in the metal, the dried blood on it, and the floor.

The rage and the cruelty did not make sense to her.

When Luna had gifted her with Exaltation, she had been terrified. Her neat and orderly world had been shattered beyond repair. Nothing had made sense. And then Redigost had found her. He had been kind to her, a demanding teacher, that was certain, but always fair.

She had never seen such hatred from him, not even directed towards his enemies.

What did he remember from the First Age that hurt him so?

She suddenly felt very fortunate that she did not have such memories.

Leaving the airship behind she continued across the floor and came to stand in front of the tapestry that hung down from the ceiling. From a distance it had appeared as if the colours on it were shifting, but up close she saw that the images on the tapestry moved. Told a story. She watched, entranced, as it folded out before her.

It was a battle. One from long ago. A vast army of terrestrial exalted, under the command of a general surrounded by golden fire, fought some huge behemoth. At one point two warriors, one surrounded by golden fire, one surrounded by silver fire, stood back to back, fighting their way through swarms of giant insects that the behemoth was vomiting up.

As the two warriors displayed on the tapestry rallied their troops for the final attack on the behemoth, Lightning wondered if things had ever really been like that. Had Solars and Lunars stood back to back on ancient battlefields, fighting almost as if one being? Was it a lie?

She sighed and turned from the tapestry. Would Redigost tell her if she were to ask? She wondered if those two warriors had carried the shards of power that Redigost and Sparrow now carried.

Her path took her deeper into the manse. Redigost had used Sparrow as a key, opening the doorways that were locked, opening up the manse for this people.

Four guards stood outside of the door to the room where Sparrow had been imprisoned. Four yeddim men. They were large, and they looked placid and dull. Lightning knew that they were not. She walked by them and opened the door. They did not try to stop her. Redigost had given no orders concerning her access to the prisoner.

The room beyond was a comfortable size, an open door leading into what looked like a bathroom. There were a few pieces of furniture within, things made of metal and glass and stone, that had survived the centuries upon centuries since the manse had been sealed, but it seemed empty. The walls were bare stone, the floor bare stone, the stone ceiling covered with small flecks of faded paint.

A mattress had been brought in; she could smell the fresh, straw ticking within, under the smells of age, stale sweat and fear.

Sparrow lay upon the mattress, nearly naked, the injuries that Redigost had inflicted on her days before were already fading, though there were a handful of fresher bruises. Three silver flasks were discarded on the floor, one crushed.

What was Redigost doing to her?

Quietly she padded across the room and knelt down beside the mattress.

Sparrow's eyes were open, watching her.

"I'm sorry," Lightning said. It seemed such a small thing to say.

"It's not your fault," Sparrow replied, her tone soft. "You did not know this was going to happen." It sounded like a statement, but there was a hint of a question in there.

Lightning shook her head. "I had no idea."

"Why does he hate me?" Sparrow asked, and tears started running down her face.

"He doesn't hate you," Lightning said and gently reached out to brush away one of the tears.

It almost made her cry as she saw Sparrow cringe away from the touch.

"I'm not Hayabusa."

"He can't see that."

"I don't even remember what he hates me for. But he's made me remember things that are not mine. I don't understand it, any of it, anything." Her cheeks were wet with tears.

"He shouldn't do this."

"Help me," Sparrow begged.

This was why Lightning had put off coming to see Sparrow. She waited for Sparrow to say that she owed her. Or to offer her the manse and its contents. She waited for her to say something that Lightning could refute, but all Sparrow did was to look at her, tears still running down her face.

"He wants me to find the Hearthstone room," Sparrow said, "and the armoury. I know where they are, but I have played ignorant, for now. I can't keep fighting him. He's destroying me, everything that makes me what I am. He's pouring in memories that are not mine, and it is slowly wiping me away. I am losing track of what is me and what is not."

Lightning swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Please." Sparrow was begging.

"I'll help you. Tonight. I'll come for you."

Sparrow actually managed a faint smile. "Thank you."

"I have to go. I can't stay too long. It will be noticed."

Sparrow looked as if she wanted her to stay. There was a lost, helpless look to her. But she simply nodded.

Lightning smiled reassuringly and then got to her feet. Before leaving the room she looked back at Sparrow, looking so fragile and broken, lying in her bed. Sparrow smiled at her, still crying.

She left the room and closed the door behind her.

Her guts were churning as she went and told Redigost what Sparrow had told her and made plans to break the Solar with a final betrayal.

---

Sparrow sat on the stained mattress, eyes closed, breathing deeply. She remembered lying on a road as someone whipped her, tore muscles and flesh to the bone. Sparrow remembered standing on the deck of a flying ship, cold air stinging her cheeks. She was sure the memory of the Blue Sky Lover was the true one, but both felt as real.

Reaching back she ran her hand across the smooth skin of her back.

She had been alone in her room since Lightning had left, fortunately. It had been a while since Redigost had last come to her. She was grateful for that. Every time he poured new memories down her throat she felt as if she were closer to breaking. When she walked the corridors of the manse, opening doors for him, her submissive behaviour was not entirely an act.

He terrified her. That he hated her so.

The thought of what he might do to her if her plan failed filled her with so much terror she nearly broke down. Her courage seemed a small thing at the moment, but it was all she had that she felt that she could trust. That and Lightning.

Nervously picking at the threads in the mattress, worrying open a seam, she wondered what she might do if Lightning did not come.

Don't think that way, she thought, but it would not go away.

She did not think she could do what she planned without some support. Even if it were only a friendly smile and a kind word.

Those had been woefully in short supply over the last few days.

Pulling straw from the open seam, she began to nervously weave it together. She had nearly completed a wreath when the door opened. She started, pulling the wreath apart, her heart thumping in her chest, frightened that Redigost would be on the threshold.

She almost collapsed with relief when she saw it was Lightning.

"Are you okay?" Lightning asked as she closed the door.

Sparrow nodded. "I'm fine." She was ashamed at how her voice quavered.

"What is it?" Lightning knelt down close to her.

"He is putting the most terrible memories in me, and I am losing track of what is my memory and what is not mine." She held up her arm. "I remember this arm being cut off, in some dirty dungeon, by a man with a red-hot sword. It surprises me to see it there, sometimes. I feel lost."

"I am Lightning, I befriended you and betrayed you."

Sparrow took a deep breath. "Yes."

"You had an airship, a man named Tar took it away from you."

"Yes."

"Those are solid memories, perhaps not good ones, but you can trust them as true."

Sparrow nodded.

Lightning smiled reassuringly. She took off the coat she was wearing. "Take this." She held the coat out towards her. "You'll find some undergarments in the pockets. Sorry, I couldn't bring much else in without giving it away."

The clothing made her feel better, a barrier between her and the outside world. She buttoned the coat up to her neck.

Lightning looked at the door. "I'm going to do my best not to kill the guards. I don't blame them."

"That won't be a problem," Sparrow said, feeling more confident. Tar and Lighting had betrayed her, terrible memories, but real. She strung the memories that felt true between those two events, a bridge she could stand upon. And above that, the memory of the Unconquered Sun choosing her.

"What?" Lightning's tone was surprised.

Sparrow walked over to one of the walls, knelt down, and put her head against the stone. "I remembered this," she said, and let her caste mark glitter.

Golden lines formed on the stone, in the shape of a square. Then, with a click, the square slid into the wall, opening a way.

"How long ago did you remember this?" Lightning asked, kneeling down by the opening.

"I'm not sure," she said, "a few days ago."

"Why didn't you use it?"

"I was afraid to try. I was afraid it was a memory that Redigost had poured into me." She looked up at Lightning. "I was just afraid. I needed help. I needed someone to trust."

Lightning looked uncomfortable but nodded. "Lead on."

Sparrow got on her hands and knees and crawled into the hidden passage. Lightning followed after her, a wolf instead of a woman.

After closing the door and making sure it was sealed, Sparrow led the way, crawling through the passage, navigating by memories that were not hers, and she hoped not ones that Redigost had inflicted on her, as well as the knowledge of the manse's layout she had learned over the last few days. Behind her, nearly silent, Lightning as a wolf followed.

After several minutes of crawling, she stopped, reaching for the locking mechanism. Lightning, in human form, put her hand on Sparrows, stopping her. She had so many memories of people touching her in hate and to cause pain that she almost screamed.

"I have something to tell you," Lightning said, her tone soft.

Sparrow swallowed to moisten her throat. "What?"

"Like I said, I betrayed you. I was sent to find you, Redigost told me that it was vital that you trust me and go with me. I did not know why he felt that way, until now."

Sparrow nodded and said nothing.

"When I heard of you, I went after you. Took the form of birds and searched for you. When I was a strix, I saw you and Cold Rain, long before you reached the borders of Thorns."

"You wanted me to be scared when you saved me," Sparrow said.

Lightning nodded.

Sparrow found those memories, took them as more pillars to build upon.

"I also told Redigost what you asked me to do. He knows you want to escape and have enlisted my aid."

Sparrow felt as if the ground fell out from under her.

"But I lied to him about when we would go. He is still preparing his trap, and he had no idea that you had these passages. He would have known that you would ask for help when I came to see you. I told him what he already knew, convinced him he could trust me. I'm not going to help him hurt you. Not anymore."

Sparrow grasped at her memories of Lightning. Lightning had betrayed her and might yet betray her again, but those were memories she knew to be true. "This opens into an empty corridor, I think. We'll have to move fast."

"I'll be right behind you."

Better she was in front, Sparrow thought, and then, before her nerve could give out, she opened the door. Half expecting to find herself at Redigost's feet, she crawled out into the hall.

The hall, carved, smooth stone, was empty. From far off she heard various sounds, but nothing close. Lightning followed her out into the hallway, stood up, and looked about, actually sniffing the air. Sparrow closed the door, made sure it was sealed and then stood as well. "This way," she said.

They passed through hallways, large, interior plazas, brightly lit by magical lights, through mazes of small rooms. Sparrow moved quickly, confident in her ability to navigate the manse. The memories of the manse she trusted, not necessarily as her own, but none that Redigost might have poured into her.

She was walking through a vast, enclosed garden, long ago gone wild, when Lightning grabbed her from behind, put a hand over her mouth, and dragged her into the a thick, tangle of undergrowth. She panicked at the contact, biting Lightning's hand and fighting to get free.

Lightning held her tight and whispered into her ear, "Be quiet, someone is coming this way."

The words made Sparrow go still, and she relaxed her jaw, so she was no longer biting Lightning. She could taste the other woman's blood, coppery and salty, in her mouth, and had to stop herself from spitting it out to keep silent.

She heard them approach, the heavy footfall she had come to associate with the yeddim men. They spoke amongst themselves, and they mentioned her, that she was not to be allowed to escape. For a moment she thought that they were coming for her, but she realised that one was just repeating orders.

Whatever happened Redigost did not want her to escape.

He thought she was going to run.

Did he suspect that she was going to fight?

Lightning let her go. "We can continue."

"Sorry about your hand," Sparrow said. She spat the blood in her mouth into the plants.

"No real harm done," Lightning told her. The wound had already stopped bleeding.

"We're close." Sparrow stepped out from among the plants and then started down the pathway that led out of the garden.

She had passed by the area the last time that Redigost had dragged her around the manse. It had been so hard not to react when she had neared it. All it would have taken was to break away from him, a quick run, and then she would have been safe.

Fear and confusion had held her still then.

Fear and confusion were threatening to do it again.

If Lightning were to betray her, the best time to do it would be when she had opened the door to the Hearthstone chamber.

Don't think of that, she told herself, forcing herself to continue to walk forward.

It was a short, dead-end corridor, a small, enlarged area at the end: A private alcove for speaking, or other, intimate assignations. Sparrow looked about, looked at Lightning. If Lightning did betray her, could she fight the woman, beat her?

Perhaps. Perhaps not.

She would have to trust.

Placing her forehead against the wall, she triggered the lock with a trickle of her essence. Like the secret doorway in her room the door to the Hearthstone room was outlined in golden lines. Unlike it, it did not swing open.

Taking a deep breath, Sparrow turned towards Lightning. "Take my hand," she said.

Lightning did.

Sparrow stepped into the apparently solid wall, sliding into it. It had a sense of mass, and it was not as simple as taking a step. She had to actively push her way through, an exercise of mind as much as body. She could, she thought, let go of Lightning's hand. She had so many memories of the cruelty of touch, and Lightning's hand in hers was making those all seem more real.

And it would end any threat that Lightning might pose. She was reasonably sure of that.

She did not release Lightning's hand and a moment later stepped out into a small, cramped room. Lightning was right behind her. The closeness of the space meant she was almost pressed against Sparrow.

The chamber was circular, with a pedestal in the centre on which rested a golden stone. Around the pedestal were the control consoles, lap desk-sized panels on thin bases. Lightning stood near the edge, looking nervous.

"It's over," Sparrow said, moving to stand by one of the consoles. "I have control." She did not think about what she was doing as she moved from control console to control console. She stopped. "I want to kill them all."

"Don't." Lightning had moved beside her, but, as if aware of Sparrow's feelings, did not touch her. "They are only doing what Redigost tells them. They are his children, grandchildren, many times great grandchildren. I don't think they could disobey him even if they wanted to."

Sparrow wanted to not care. She wanted to destroy everything that had had a part in hurting her. But Lightning had asked her not to kill them. Lightning had helped her. Lightning was a solid memory she needed to trust.

"I'll start it all off low," she said, activating the manse's defences. "As long as they leave soon, they will be fine."

"Thank you," Lightning said.

---

Seams appeared in sections of walls throughout the manse. The small panels revealed slid open, and with a grinding of stone on stone, blocks slid out of the walls. Redigost, walking towards one of the galleries close to where he had put Sparrow, stopped and looked at one that had appeared close by. He swore.

A moment later a noise began. Low, with intermittent high pings, he could feel it in his bones, between his ears, behind his eyes. It hurt. Around him his people began to stumble, most put their hands over their ears, as if that might stop the noise.

"Go," he shouted, pitching his voice to carry, "leave the manse. Get clear. Tell everyone you see." He left them, running off deeper into the manse, giving the order to all he found. The noise was getting worse, his people stumbling, some bleeding from their noses. He moved faster, knowing that if he delayed they would start dying.

As he ran, he shifted his body, obeying the commands of memories, inuring himself against the defences. Had Paima been locked in the manse, the defences on? Perhaps. From his memories, he would not put anything past Hayabusa.

Had Lightning betrayed him? Or had the Solar engineered her own escape? Whatever the reason, Sparrow had control of the manse's defences. There was nothing he could do for the moment. She would eventually leave the hearthstone chamber, however.

The sound became more punishing, and another defence system had activated, a round object that fired shards of rock with the force of an arrow. Not immediately fatal, but several of his slower-moving servants were stumbling through the hallways with such shards buried in their bodies.

He stood in the middle of a large room, wincing as several stone projectiles impacted against his armoured body, more an annoyance than a real danger.

There was nothing more he could do. His people were either out of the manse, or they would be dead soon. He climbed the walls and then clung to the ceiling, outside of the firing arcs of the launchers. Now he would wait.

---

From the Hearthstone room, Sparrow sealed the manse, closing the entrance. "It's done. Anyone still in here, beyond this room, is dead."

"I hope they got out," Lightning said.

"They all should have had a chance," Sparrow said, though she could not really care if they did or not. She shut down the security systems. Perhaps she should stay in the control room, where it was safe. But for how long? She could not hide there forever. "Let's go and see what happened. But first…" she got up and circled around the consoles, moving to stand beside the pedestal that the Hearthstone rested upon. It was a multifaceted stone, the colour of melted butter. She picked it up carefully and then walked to the room's exit.

---

Redigost dropped from the ceiling, shifting his form, hiding his scent. He sniffed the air and then set off. He would make Sparrow pay for what she had tried.

---

Lightning followed Sparrow, wondering exactly where they were going. She was beginning to think that Sparrow only wanted to make sure that no one else was left in the manse. The woman seemed nervous, which made Lightning nervous, on edge.

That was probably why she was able to shout out a warning a moment before Redigost stuck.

He was in his war form, a huge, yeddim hybrid, his massive fists covered in bony deposits, his body covered in thick fur.

One of his fits slammed into Sparrow, sending her flying across the room. She hit the stone wall hard enough to crack it.

Lightning was shifting to her own war form, the combination of the claw strider and human. Muscles shifted, bone erupted from skin, becoming razor sharp talons. Her jaw extended and bulged as she created the muscle mass she needed.

Slamming into Redigost, knocking him away, she yelled out, "Run, I'll hold him off." It did not sound much like words, her mouth was no longer suitable for speaking, but it looked like Sparrow got the message, for she was running away.

Redigost caught his balance and lashed out at Lightning with a sweeping punch that almost caught her across her head. She could feel the wind from the blow and knew she did not want to be tagged by one of those fists.

They did not speak as they fought, neither of their forms was suited for it, and there was nothing to say. They both were well aware what the battle was about.

She faded back from his attacks, dodging them; her war form was long and flexible, far more agile than his. But he was powerful and deceptively fast. He caught her with many glancing blows, sending her stumbling, but she used his power against him when she could, and then, when he committed himself, she ducked into his attack and spun around, using her tail like a club, hitting him on the side of the head.

As he stumbled to the side she followed up the attack, lashing out with the talon on her rear leg, cutting him across the thighs. She darted in, fastening her teeth around his shoulder.

With a cry of rage, he hurled her away; she came out of it with a mouth mainly full of fur, and a little bit of his skin. Her landing was a little off, and she whipped her tail around to balance herself. Redigost came fast, a solid punch into her side breaking a rib and sending her stumbling to the ground.

He leapt into the air, his fist held in front of him. Lightning just managed to roll to the side before he slammed into the space she had recently occupied. She thought she had the advantage with him lying on the ground, but even as she moved in he punched hard with his fists, springing himself into the air. With a whirling haymaker he caught her hard on the jaw, sending her stumbling back.

It was going to be a hard fight, she thought, falling back under his renewed onslaught.

---

At first, Sparrow thought she was merely running away. As the sounds of the fight faded behind her she realised that she was running towards the armoury. She almost stopped and turned around. She would be safer in the Hearthstone room. From there she could force Redigost out. She was still running towards the armoury.

She had not, she admitted to herself, managed to force him out the first time.

Run away, part of her urged. Flee this place.

Leave Lightning behind to deal with him.

Would he kill her?

Did it matter? Lightning had betrayed her.

Run away.

Then she would always be looking over her shoulder, to see if he was following. Could she live like that?

If she fought him, and she lost, he would do terrible things to her.

She would have to fight to the death. Force him to kill her.

I do not want to die, was the thought that came strongest.

She did not want to live in fear of Redigost.

Then she was standing in front of a blank wall. Without thinking she opened the door hidden there.

I can do this, she thought, and with the memory of the Unconquered Sun's presence to bolster her resolve, she stepped through the doorway.

---

Both Lightning and Redigost were surrounded by silver auras. Around them the room showed the effects of the battle, cracked walls and demolished benches. Both combatants bloodied; Redigost was missing large patches of fur and marked with claw and bite marks. Lightning's scales were darkened in places from the blood that pooled beneath them.

They circled each other warily, feinting, trying to draw the other one off balance.

When Redigost tried again, Lightning shifted forms, taking once more her human shape, using its smaller size to duck in close. On her back the skin mounted Hearthstones in her shoulder blades pumped power into artifact tattoos around her forearms. She slammed two rapid punches into Redigost's broad, heavily muscled chest.

Each punch was backed up with the power of a lightning ballista, the energy crackling around the both of them. It was a tingling sensation on her skin as the deadly energy was dissipated harmlessly across her body by her tattoos.

Redigost stood there, his fur standing on end, small discharges of static popping around him. Lightning wound up for another punch, but before it could connect Redigost moved fast, grabbing her arm. "I built those for you, do you think I did not have a way to defend against them?" he asked as he picked her up and drove her towards the wall.

She did not have time to shift to her more durable war form, and she felt bones break when she hit. She blacked out for a moment.

When she regained her senses she was on the floor, Redigost's great weight pinning her. She shifted to her war form a moment before his first slammed into the side of her head.

"You will not interfere," he growled around the herbivore's teeth in his mouth, and then he hit her again.

"You cannot understand what exists between the Solar and me." Again his fist slammed into her side of her head, knocking several of her teeth out.

"When we finish here you will leave," he growled, and his body shifted on hers for the next punch. It never came.

Lightning's blurry vision cleared and she saw someone clothed in silver battle armour standing behind Redigost, holding his arm around the wrist.

She could hear the wine of the actuators as the armoured figure yanked Redigost off her and hurled him towards the wall. He did not sail through the air, but stumbled across the ground and tripped over the remains of a shattered bench.

The armour turned towards Lightning. "I'll see if I can finish this up," Sparrow's muffled voice came from the armour's helm.

"Good luck," Lightning said. It was all she could think of.

---

Sparrow turned away from Lightning, her attention on Redigost. Around her the Moonsilver armour was like a living thing, whispering tactical information into her ear, the armour altering its structure moment by moment, adapting to changing circumstances.

"Hope you don't mind me using this," she called out to Redigost. "The Orichalcum suit was too big for me. It looks like size is something else that Paima and I have in common." She made her tone cutting. "Perhaps you should see how well Hayabusa's armour fits you."

"Do not dare compare yourself to Paima!" he screamed as he jumped to his feet.

Sparrow did not smile, she was too frightened to take this lightly, but as an angry Redigost hurled himself at her, she could not help but feel satisfied. Angry opponents were predictable.

She drew the grand daiklaive from the mounts on the back of the armour, the golden blade sliding free with a ring of steel on steel. Shifting to the side, avoiding his charge, she brought the sword around and slashed it across his back.

He howled in pain and spun about, lashing out with a punch that Sparrow barely managed to parry. However, he was still angry, and he did not take advantage of the opening but came at her all fury and noise.

Again Sparrow sidestepped his attack and countered, cutting him deeply across his side.

The pain reached deeper than the anger, and Redigost's bearing changed. As he came around at her again his movements were contained, careful, calculated. He fired off three probing attacks, rapid punches that searched out weaknesses in Sparrow's defence. Her sword raced, intercepting each attack, the sharp blade shaving off the bone that covered his hands.

She was surrounded by a golden aura, matching the silver one that surrounded him.

He came at her again, suddenly, slamming her sword, knocking it out of her armoured hands. The silver fire around him grew in scope, and took on the form of monstrous creature, like his war form, but he himself was cloaked in darkness. From this darkness his attacks came, pounding into sparrow with shattering power.

The light around Sparrow grew as well, a brilliant bonfire of sunlight that burned at the edges of the shadow that surrounded Redigost. Each of his attacks forced her back, but none harmed her. And when his hands came out of the darkness, reaching for her throat, she grabbed his wrists, locking her fingers around them, forcing them apart.

He drove her back against the wall. She held him off, pitting the armour's strength against his.

From the darkness came his head, neck elongated, huge jaw full of ferocious teeth. He turned his head and closed those jaws around her helm. With a crushing of metal and a twist of his neck, he tore the helm from the armour, leaving her head exposed.

Growling in victory, he spat the helmet out then turned his gaze on her. He opened his jaws.

The chest section of the armour exploded out, flying free of the suit, clipping the side of Redigost's jaw, knocking teeth out and snapping his head to the side.

The moonsilver armour changed, the joints of the arms fusing, the armour itself expanding. Leaving the armour's arms to hold Redigost back, Sparrow slid her own arms from the metal sheaths and reached behind herself.

Redigost spat blood and growled, his head whipping back towards her, his mouth opening wide.

From the small of her back Sparrow drew a pair of matched, slab-sided, magazine fed plasma tongue repeaters. They were made of Orichalcum, sided with dark red Jade. Golden flames danced over them as she swung them around and pointed them both at Redigost.

He lunged at her.

She began to fire.

His teeth closed on her right shoulder with enough force to tear the arm off.

The golden bonfire around Sparrow exploded into the shape of a gryphon, the beast lifting its wings and its flaming head snapping down at the darkness around the lunar.

Redigost's teeth failed to break the skin or crush the bone of her shoulder.

Concentrated plasma washed over his head and chest. Some of it blasted back over Sparrow, but while it burnt away her clothing and scorched the surface of the armour, it did not harm her.

Howling in pain, Redigost pulled away from her, stumbling back. The flames of plasma intermingled with the darkness and silver fire that surrounded him.

Sparrow kept firing, brass casings that had held the charges of alchemical fire falling on the floor around her, the sound of them hitting the stone floor lost in the roar of fire and pain.

The weapons ran out of ammunition, but Sparrow continued to pull the triggers several more times as if unaware the repeaters no longer fired. Then she tossed the pistols aside and slid out of the armour, bare feet touching the wet, cold floor where Redigost had stood.

She ran forward, snapping up her grand daiklaive. She swung the weapon over her head as she charged. Screaming wordlessly she brought the sword down into the darkness that hid him.

The blade stopped a hand span away from Redigost.

Lightning had slid under the blade, stopping it with her hands. Blood was running down her forearms, crossing over the lightning tattoos. "You can't kill him!" she screamed at Sparrow.

Sparrow did not answer but tried to free her blade from Lightning's grip.

"We don't kill each other! There are not enough of us!" She tightened her grip on the daiklaive, her blood flowed freely.

"I can't let him live," Sparrow screamed. "I can't let him live," she sobbed.

"Trust me," Lightning pleaded.

And that reached Sparrow, and she looked at Lightning. The woman held tight to the sword, heedless of how it was cutting her. There was something in her eyes, something that made Sparrow want to trust her, need to trust her.

She released the hilt of the sword and stumbled back.

Lightning tossed the blade away, shifting around and moving on top of Redigost.

For the first time Sparrow smelt burnt fur and flesh and she felt sick. Her body was shaking. She wanted to sit down. Somehow she found the strength not to fall over, but it was close.

Lightning was staring into the darkness that surrounded Redigost. "You owe me your life," she said, "I'm enforcing the debt."

As if something wanted Sparrow to see, the darkness around Redigost shifted. Lightning reached down and pushed one of her fingers into the burnt flesh of the shoulder that was revealed and then traced out a circle. Silver from his tattoos flowed into the circle.

Lightning stood up and moved away from Redigost. "Stay away from Sparrow," she said. "Don't try to harm her, directly or indirectly."

Redigost shifted, slowly getting up. "As you wish." His voice was tinged by pain. He shifted around. Sparrow knew he was looking right at her. "One day Lightning will need to claim this debt, and I will be released to come after you."

Sparrow did her best to hide her fear, and when she spoke her tone of voice almost sounded unconcerned. "Get out of my manse."

---

The airship had once been called Blue Sky Lover, but that had been painted over, and the ship's name was now declared as 'Tar's Prize'.

It was built around two, separate airbags, with a platform between them, part solid hull, part cargo netting. A long mast descended from beneath the platform, a triangular sail flying from it. A large scoop sail was rigged to the bow.

Crew moved about it, climbing nimbly along rigging, over the airbags, and across the hull. Ten crew members worked a windlass, spinning it rapidly; below decks a complex series of wood and whalebone gears transferred the power to a pair of props on the stern of each air bag.

At the stern of the flight platform was a raised wheelhouse. Tar stood upon it.

He was a big man, barrel-chested, long black hair, brown eyes. He wore a heavy jacket against the cold air, a big cutlass at his side. Tar held the wheel, staring towards the bow. "Trim the scoop to port by three points," he shouted.

The sailors scrambled to follow the order. They were not, Tar thought, as a good as the ones he had gotten rid of, but he had kept no crew whose loyalty he was not sure of.

Not that he worried much about mutiny. Not with his new allies.

On either side of him stood blood apes; they watched the crew with hunger, trembled with their desire to do violence.

The scoop sail caught the wind, pulling the ship to the port. He pulled the wheel, changing the angle of the lower sail, tacking against the wind.

"More power to the port screw!"

There was a sound of wood groaning beneath his feet as the power transfer was changed.

"Too slow," he shouted. "You're too damn slow. Mr Tangle!"

"Yes sir," a thin man shouted as he dashed across the deck.

"The men are on restricted rations until I see some improvement."

"Yes sir."

Tar did not look at Mr Tangle, but instead was looking to his crew, looking to see if there were any angry scowls or other signs of dissent. All he saw were scared people.

Smiling, his teeth black, he locked the wheel and then leaned against it. He had a few more course changes to take care of, and then he would head down to his cabin for rest and drink.

---

Tar's Prize flew across the sky, the crew working harder to avoid their captain's anger. Tar had just called out another course change when something sped by the ship, so fast its wake tossed the vessel and its crew about.

Tar grasped the wheel and called the ship to general quarters. On the bow one of the crew began to beat upon the drum. Crew members came up from below decks, everyone running to their stations. The strange craft that had flown by him shone in the midday sun, flashing a soft blue as it came around. Never had he seen such a craft, but he knew he was looking at an object of power and he found himself desiring it.

It passed by again, shooting over the bow, travelling slower this time. There were flashes of light, and the starboard side of the scoop sail came free.

"Battle stations! Prepare to fire," Tar called out as he grasped the wheel, trying to keep the lower sail properly angled. "Bring that sail under control."

Men ran about, dashing to weapons. Behind him he heard a soft buzz. He looked over his shoulder. A pair of agata, demon wasps, perched on the deck behind him, flanking a small man. The man was well dressed in long, red robes adorned with precious jewels. His name was Dupana. One of the Djala, he had a large black spot on the crown of his head, two smaller ones above each of his ears. A pair of red patches, painted with makeup, were around his eyes.

"Send those wasps out after that ship," he told Dupana.

"I don't think…"

"Send them. What other choice do we have?"

Dupana nodded and spoke to the wasps in their own language. The wasps rose up and sped off, towards the incoming ship.

Tar watched them as around him the crew prepped their personal weapons as well as the heavy ballistae mounted on the bow of the ship. As the wasps closed on the airship he saw something. It took him a moment to realise someone had leapt from that craft. There was a flash of sunlight on silver, and then the wasps came apart, their bodies shredded.

"Impossible," Dupana gasped.

"At least we won't have to deal with that one," Tar said as he watched the attacker begin to fall. Then, to his horror, the falling body changed shape, becoming a large bird. "Anathema." He could not keep fear from his tone.

While the bird winged its way towards him and the other airship was already overhead. It swung around under fire, the arrows launched by crew, even the bolts of ballistae, bouncing off the hull. Then the ship was holding directly above. Again, someone leapt from the ship, this time to land on the deck. It took him a moment to recognise Sparrow, his attention first focused on the huge, golden sword she carried.

He did not remember giving the order to attack, but he must have, for the blood apes leapt forward, some of his crew charging her as well. Surely such a large number of attackers would fell her. And yet he watched, dumbfounded, as she moved with an impossible grace, her sword rising and falling, tracing out lines of gold in the air as she fought.

It seemed to only take a heartbeat before the blood apes were dead. Three heartbeats and the men who had charged her were dead or wounded. Four and the ones who could flee had done so. No one else dared approach her.

Turning, sword raised and pointed at him, she said, "You are a fool Tar."

He turned, looking towards Dupana, hoping the thaumaturge might offer some hope, but he was dead. The shape-changing demon held Dupana's broken body. She tossed the corpse, so it lay at his feet. Tar stared at her, wondering what he had ever done to attract the anger of one such as this. He turned when he felt something tap him on the shoulder and found himself staring down the length of Sparrow's golden sword.

"Please Captain," he begged.

"Captain is it now?"

"Please, I'm sorry." He dropped to his knees, tears in his eyes.

She looked at him, anger shifting to disgust.

To Tar's thinking disgust was better.

"I want you off my ship," Sparrow told him.

He nodded. "Yes Captain." He almost fell forward on to his face, such was his relief.

"Now."

His eyes widened. "But…"

She turned the blade, laying the razor sharp edge of the weapon across his throat. "I survived; perhaps the gods will smile on you. If you don't jump, I'll take your head."

"Please, you can't."

"She can," he heard the shape-changing demon say from behind him, then strong hands grabbed him and rushed him towards the rail.

He screamed for it to release him, he beat at the hand holding him, but to no avail. A moment later he was hanging over the rail, below him nothing but sky for a long way down.

"Are you scared?"

He looked over to see Sparrow perched on the railing, watching him.

"Captain, you can't do this," he blubbered.

"Why not?"

"You wouldn't do it. It's not in your nature."

"Put him on the railing."

Tar felt the demon lower him so that his feet touched the railing. Sparrow moved around, holding her sword pointed towards him. "You can jump, or I'll send you over, but no matter what, you're going over."

"Captain…"

The sword moved forward, pressing against his neck.

"Step back," she said, her voice loud, the command cracking across his ears.

He stepped back.

He was falling.

He did not see Sparrow's face appear over the railing. She was not even bothering to watch.

---

Hours later, after she had made sure there were no more demons aboard her ship after she had made sure the crew knew she was in charge, after she had gone through everything Tar had left behind, she stood on the bow of the Blue Sky Lover, letting the wind blow across her upturned face.

Being aboard the ship made her feel better. The feeling of home, of her mother, had washed over her, through her, solid memories to fight against the ones that Redigost had left in her.

She felt safe.

Of to the port the airship she had brought from the manse was pacing the Blue Sky Lover (she had taken the time to have 'Tar's Prize' painted over), staying close. She had woken the spirit in that ship, won it over to her. She was going to have to give the ship a name soon. It was wrong for it not to have a name.

She looked down to the decking at her feet. She should wake the spirit of the Blue Sky Lover, win her over as well. She knew it would not be difficult.

For the moment, however, she was happy enough with things as they were.

"Where will you go now?" Lightning asked.

Sparrow had not heard her come up behind her, and she started a little. "What? Oh. Skullstone."

"What?"

"I'm not happy about it either, but Tar signed a contract."

"Dump it and the cargo over the side, like you did with him."

"It's tempting," she shook her head, "but I'm going to honour it. If possible I'll see if I can transfer it to another ship. I'd rather not go there."

"If you do, keep a very low profile, and leave quickly."

Sparrow nodded.

"What the situation with your crew?"

"Not good. Tar got rid of the ones that were loyal to me. Not sure if he just put them off or had them killed. I'll have to find out. I'll be putting a lot of them off the ship as soon as I get the chance."

"So you'll be shorthanded?"

"For a while."

Lightning nodded. "I'll stay with you then, for a while."

Sparrow was pleasantly surprised and smiled, but then she said, "You don't have to stay."

"I know."

They stood together on the bow, watching the sun set. As the moon began to rise, full and huge over the sea, Lightning trembled visibly, and then asked, "What are you going to do after Skullstone?"

"I thought I would be happy with the Blue Sky Lover back."

"You're not."

"It is not enough. I want so much more." She shook her head. "A vast merchant fleet of the sky. Greater than anything the Haslanti dreamed of. Warships, privateers to protect it. Vast floating bases to work from, with docks, and warehouses, and shipyards. Owing allegiance to no nation, changing trade routes as needed. Freedom."

"That's a lot to want."

Smiling, Sparrow nodded.

Again they stood in silence, saying nothing. After full dark set in Sparrow asked, "Will you help me?"

"I'm not interested in a merchant fleet," Lightning said immediately

"Oh."

"I am interested in a vast nation of the sky. People who can ride high above the land, able to come together to face threats, or scatter from threats too large. Survivors, perhaps people who never will touch the ground."

"Then we are going to need a floating island, something huge," Sparrow said. "That will be a starting point for both of us."

"We'll travel into the Wyld and drag a sky mountain into Creation."

"Really?" Sparrow asked, amazed at the suggestion.

"Why not?" She put an arm around Sparrow's shoulders.

Sparrow tensed up, trembling slightly. She wanted to pull away from the contact, from all the foreign memories it quickened, but she did not. Instead, she stood there, mastering her fear, and watched the moon climb higher into the sky.

---

Author's Notes

In the original story Redigost used rape as a weapon to try to break Sparrow. It never felt right, and it was a problem with writing Sparrow later. It also looked like it would lead to the 'love heals' trope, and that felt bad as well.

Also, the Exalted fought against elder gods without their minds breaking. They probably have minds that are are tough as their bodies. They likely don't suffer from PTSD.

And it did not capture the fact that Creation is amazing and terrifying.

So I thought what could Redigost do that was amazing and terrible. And pouring the worst memories of thousands of people into Sparrow seemed like something that might work. To wash away all the good memories with horrible.

That is really the only change I made to the story, beyond fixing the grammar up.