To Know Them Is to Love Them

Updated November 2017

Leaping long, Dragon galloped across the rocky shale, putting his hooves on solid ground with fantastic certainty considering that it was night.

Heron did not doubt his mount's ability to navigate the terrain, even in the dark. Ivory did not share his feelings, for she had cried out more than once.

"Hold on," Heron said, tapping his heels on Dragon's flanks to urge the horse on.

Dragon responded, stretching out his pace even more, to the point where he was almost flying.

Heron planned to go beyond almost.

His caste mark glittered as he twisted the flows of essence about, making it flow between him and Dragon. He had never before done what he was about to try, but he had thought of it, and several nights before he had dreamed about it. The essence flows completed their connections and Heron enforced his will on them, solidifying what he had forged.

With Dragon's next jump the horse slipped the bounds of the earth and galloped across the air.

Heron laughed, for never before had he felt so free.

Ivory, just realising what had happened, let out a cry of surprise.

"Don't worry," Heron told her as he urged Dragon higher.

"We're… we're…"

"Flying," Heron said, and he laughed again. "It appears so." He did not have to speak very loud, for no longer did Dragon's hooves thunder against the stone.

"But how?"

Heron had to laugh again.

"Alright, I know how, but… Can you teach me?" she suddenly asked, her tone hopeful.

"Given time, no doubt," he said, the laughter was gone from his voice. "But for the moment, we have other things to think about."

"What are we going to do when we get up there?"

"I have a few ideas. It will depend on how much trouble the residents of Metagalpa are in."

"Lord Walker has gone?" Courtesan asked.

"Yes, he has," Faded Maiden said.

"He's gone?"

"I don't understand what you find so difficult about this," Faded Maiden said, cuttingly.

Courtesan knew she appeared stupid, but she could not believe that Walker in Darkness would just leave. After all the trouble gone through to set things up, to then leave… She could not conceive it.

"And he left you in charge?"

It was not the right thing to say.

"You find such a thing hard to believe?" Faded Maiden asked; there was no emotion in her voice.

Courtesan looked over towards Truth, hoping he might offer some aid, but his attention was focused on his work. She looked back to Faded Maiden and said, "No, of course not."

"I am so delighted to hear that."

She did not sound happy.

Courtesan nodded.

"Now that we have come to an agreement on that, I wish you to take care of the Haltans."

Courtesan still wanted to know why Walker had left, but it was likely that Faded Maiden would not tell her. If only Walker had placed someone else in charge, however, she suspected that Faded Maiden was his only real choice. He did not trust her, and Truth looked as if he had difficulty seeing beyond his work.

"What would you have me do?"

"Talk to the Haltans, convince them that they have nothing to worry about. We need them to play their part. Ensure that they do."

"Of course," Courtesan said. "I'll go now."

"Good."

Courtesan waited a moment, to see if Faded Maiden might offer any other information or further instructions, but she only stared coolly back.

Turning, Courtesan strode away, towards the mouth of the cave. She looked back once to see Faded Maiden speaking to Truth. Likely she was telling him why Lord Walker had gone away, she thought bitterly.

She stepped out of the cave, into the fresh air of the mountains at night. On either side of her were the guards that Walker had put in place. She smelled large animals and blood before she saw them, hidden in the deep shadow. The blood apes were just some of the demons that Walker and Truth had summoned, but they were the ones that Courtesan liked the least.

The two demons seemed to know of Courtesan's feeling, for they came out of the shadows, blowing and growling, so close to her that their scent made her stomach roll. She did not flinch and looked between one and the other, waiting for them to back off. After several seconds they moved away from her, back into the shadows, growling lowly.

Courtesan continued on, not looking back.

The caverns where the Haltan commanders had set up were some distance away, by the safest path. Courtesan did not take the safest path, but instead the quickest. More than once she was descending and climbing nearly vertical surfaces, calling on her powers to run along the sheer, stone surfaces.

There were guards outside the cavern entrance. Courtesan dropped from the heights, knees together, hands holding her skirt from flying up. She landed directly in front of them, crouched. One shouted out and reached for his weapon; the other stumbled back and fell over.

Courtesan straightened up and bowed. "I have need to see your commanders."

"Lady's Tits girl!" the one with his hand on his sword's hilt said. "What the hell do you think you're doing!?"

"May I pass?" she asked as she started forward.

The man who had fallen made some strange noises, but for the moment seemed unable to form a coherent sentence.

Neither stopped her from entering the long, sloping cavern and she did not look back. It had been somewhat petty of her, but she had enjoyed that.

There were other guards, but she told them she was there on business, and most had seen her earlier when she had come there with Lord Walker.

When she reached the central chamber, she was assaulted by the surprisingly comforting scent of people. She had not realised how much being among the dead had affected her until she was once more with so many of the living.

As she moved through the underground encampment, she caught the undercurrent of uncertainty among the soldiers. It had not been there last time. Of course, then Lord Walker had been there. Did these people even realise how much they had come to depend on him? Had he asked they would have bowed their heads to him and begged to be enslaved.

Not much different from she, Courtesan thought.

However, such a mood would not aid in the mission.

She pulled her bow from around her back, drew several arrows, and as she strode forwards she put nock to string, drew and fired, towards the large table where the commanders gathered. There were not too many people there right then, but enough so that her arrow, speeding by, caused some alarm.

As the arrow sunk deep into the stone Courtesan fired another and began to run. She put a third into the stone as she leapt up onto the table, a fourth as she jumped to land on the first arrow she had fired, and then three more as she climbed her ladder of shafts. She needed to impress them, needed them all watching her.

Courtesan ended up clinging to the roof, staring down at the soldiers below. Her bow was once more stowed behind her back, and she used one hand to keep her skirt from falling up around her waist.

"We will take Metagalpa as easily as I stand on the ceiling above you," she told them. "And no matter that it looks impossible." Her words were strengthened with dark essence, slipping into the minds of her audience, the same way she might slip unseen into a fortress. And once within she could strike a precise blow, as her words did.

Some of the soldiers clapped, or cheered, most relaxed visibly. The feeling uncertainty was fading.

Courtesan dropped from her upside down perch, flipped over, skirts and petticoats flaring about her, and landed lightly on the floor.

Several of the force's commanders were staring at her, as if not knowing what to make of her.

"We have final plans to discuss," she told them, and walked to the table, expecting them to follow.

They did.

For a flying mountain, there was much about Metagalpa that Heron found rather mundane. Pathways, sheep and goat pastures, old mines, various animal life, even an old still that looked as if had been left alone for some time. He had crossed several rivers, which had surprised him. Where did the water come from?

He did not see any people, wandering the paths. Perhaps it was that it was dark. Maybe it was because of the zombies.

There were, he had decided, after having cut down several, a large number of zombies there. Hopefully, that would work for him.

It was a little after the sun had risen that he found what he was looking for.

He heard it first, the sound of battle; cries of fright, orders shouted, a scream. He turned towards Hu-Heron had no idea how the tiger had gotten up onto the mountain-and said, "Stay out of sight."

Ivory, who had been sleeping in the saddle in front of him, woke.

"Whas happenin'," she asked with a yawn and rubbed her eyes.

"Just sit there and keep quiet," Heron told her. "And don't do anything."

"But…"

"Be seen and not heard, got it?" He sent Dragon running forward.

"Fine," she said, over the sound of Dragon's hooves.

She sounded angry.

Heron, at that moment, did not care.

He drew a flame wand as Dragon sped down the path.

Below him, in a place where the path widened, he saw them. Several zombies, hobbling along on twisted legs, and a handful of young men and women, trying to hold them off.

Heron opened up with the flame wand, the cloud of fire setting a few of the zombies ablaze. Dragon leapt amongst them, kicking out with his deadly hooves as Heron used the butt of the flame wand to crack open the skulls of the dead.

They did not last long.

Dragon lifted his hoof and then drove it down onto the head of the last zombie still moving. With a wet crunch, the zombie's body jerked and then stopped.

Heron looked around at the people, residents of Mount Metagalpa. They were young men and women, probably pressed into guard duty. They started at him, some open-mouthed as if they were not sure about what had happened.

"Are you alright?" he asked them.

For several seconds they said nothing, just continued to stare. Then the tallest of them, a man who looked like he still had some growing to do, said, "I think so."

Heron looked them over. No severe wounds, from the looks of things; small things, scratches, bites, some bruising. "You should probably get those wounds cleaned out."

The man and a few of the others nodded.

"Can you tell me where I am?"

He felt Ivory shift against him, wondered if she was trying to stifle laughter.

A young man, more a boy, asked, "What?"

"Where am I?"

"You're on Mount Metagalpa. Don't you know that?" That from a girl with a long face and an excessive over bite-she looked a little like a horse, Heron thought somewhat uncharitably.

"The flying mountain?"

This time Heron knew that Ivory was trying not to laugh.

There were nods of disbelief.

"I think I am lost," Heron said to them.

It was ridiculous of course, but Heron knew that ridiculous would probably work. The people he had saved were frightened but relieved to be alive, and thankful to him for rescuing them. Add to that the absurdity of him somehow ending up on the mountain by means of getting lost, well, it all put them at a disadvantage.

"Is there someone you can take me to, maybe a village headman or something?" He smiled.

"We can take you to old Flint Tooth," the young man who had spoken earlier said.

"That would be very kind of you," Heron told him. He swung down from the horse and said, "My daughter could use some rest."

Ivory lost her battle not to laugh, but she changed the giggle to a faux sneeze.

"I'm called Heron Jade Eyes," he said.

Having introduced himself, the group had little choice, pushed along by the forces of politeness and Heron's not inconsiderable charm, but to introduce themselves.

Panta was the tall one, and apparently the leader of the small militia group. Misha was the horse-faced girl, and Unnan the young boy. Jenja was a sullen, broad-shouldered youth, Ophel a pretty, barefoot girl with a wild look to her, and Nar a dark-haired, handsome young man.

Heron led Dragon, leaving Ivory on his back. It was easier to speak with his guides if they did not have to look up at him. He needed to learn as much as he could, and those six were going to tell him.

Jenja seemed to the most serious, and the one who kept in mind that Heron was an unknown. However, he seemed to like Misha, and when Misha paid him any attention, he blushed and said little. It was child's play to get Misha paying attention to Jenja.

Ophel probably was the sharpest among them, but she also said very little. She looked at Heron as if she knew what he was up to, but said nothing. Heron kept an eye on her.

Nar seemed to think he should be in charge over Panta, and the tall young man knew it. So Nar and Panta were competing to show off their knowledge-perhaps for Ophel, perhaps for Heron, thinking him a woman. And Unnan piped up to fill in details, the boy trying to prove he was a man.

Heron felt a little sorry for them, but only a little. Had he too much sympathy he would never be able to make his living as a gambler.

The story of what had been happening at Metagalpa was slowly coming clear. A catapult, or a giant arm, there was an argument about that, hurling dead up onto the mountain. A captured Haltan. Growing chaos. And they still did not know what was happening.

When they reached the village the young people had very likely told Heron everything they knew about the situation on the mountain. And it was nowhere near enough information.

Heron's arrival did not go unnoticed. He suspected that there were not a lot of horses on the mountain, and Metagalpa was a very closed society. Strangers stood out. People stared and spoke amongst themselves. The militia group, as Heron was thinking of them, that had brought him there seemed to just be noticing it. Perhaps they had concluded that they had made a mistake.

Then a woman was striding towards them, and from the way, he saw Penta and Jenja hunch their shoulders he suspected that the woman was someone that pulled some power. She was somewhat short and skinny, and she had shaved her head.

"Who on the blasted ground are you?" she demanded. "Who is she?" she asked of the young men and women around Heron.

"She, she saved us," Unnan stammered out.

"Saved you from what?"

"Zombies, Rider Barinna," Panta said.

"Just Zombies?"

That question confused the young men and women with Heron.

"I think she is concerned that any enemy would likely feel the sacrifice of zombies to be of little consequence to insinuate him or herself into your community," Heron said with a smile.

"You think that just because you speak the threat, it discounts it?" Barinna demanded.

Heron simply smiled.

"How did you get here?"

"She said she got lost," Panta said. He suddenly hunched his shoulders, as if realising how stupid that sounded.

"How did you get here?" she asked again, her tone cold, each word clipped.

"Would you believe it if I told you I rode?"

She put her hand on her sword hilt. "How did you get up here?"

"A Haslanti airboat."

She nodded. It was the sort of answer she wanted. She then looked about at the people gathered around. "Alright, everyone has work to do. Get to it. You," she looked at the militia members, "bring her this way, I'll continue this in some place more private." She turned and walked away.

Heron did not wait for anyone to try to lead him but started after Barinna, Dragon following close at his heels.

The place more private was a small warehouse on the edge of the village. Heron took Ivory down from the saddle, whispering into her ear, "Let me do all the talking," and then, leaving Dragon outside, entered the building.

Barinna was waiting inside. "Over there," she said, pointing a clear space away from the door.

Heron did as directed, taking a moment to sit Ivory down on a small crate. He winked at her, then turned to face Barinna. She stared at him as if she was ready to do violence at the slightest sign of pretence.

He did not feel threatened, for he had seen the truth of the woman, of everyone he had met on Metagalpa so far. They were all afraid, all uncertain, and all hoping for a solution. When Unnan had told her that Heron had saved them there had been the moment of hope in her face. She had hidden it well, but Heron was too skilled a gambler not to see it.

"Who are you?" Barinna demanded.

"My name is Heron Jade Eyes, from Paragon. This is my daughter, Ivy."

"Ivy?" Ivory said softly as if the name somehow offended her.

Heron thought he heard her add, "Stupid Cynis name."

"You're far from Paragon."

"I travel a lot."

"You came here by airboat?"

"Yes." Heron smiled.

"Where is it?"

"Gone."

"Gone?"

"Continued on, had a tight schedule."

She looked doubtful.

"You are welcome to search for it."

"Why did you come here?"

"Curiosity. A desire to help. When passing by I saw the people arrayed against you. I don't care much for those that consort with the dead. I thought I would help you." Much of what Heron said was the truth, but he knew the story would not seem believable, so he added a little magic to his words, giving them a weight of reality that could not be denied.

Barinna nodded. "I see. But how can you help? You are just one woman, with a child."

Heron smiled, deciding it was not the time to bring up the fact he was a man. It would just confuse the issue. "Well, I have some information, but, I hear you captured a prisoner. I could speak to her. Perhaps convince her to tell me something useful. I hear you have not had much luck." Another subtle use of a charm, convincing Barinna that it was a perfect idea.

"We'll have to go to the town. That's where she is being held."

"The sooner, the better," Heron said.

Barinna nodded. "Of course. Please, let's go."

It was like they were friends now.

Heron looked over his shoulder and smiled at Ivory.

"Show off," Ivory whispered.

It was, Heron thought, not the worst prison he had ever seen, but it shared the same atmosphere. He turned up the lantern he had brought in and placed it on the stone floor. The Haltan woman looked warily at him, her eyes hard. Everything about her said she was not going to talk.

Heron knelt down, sniffed the air. "Not a pleasant smell in here. See you got a bucket to piss and crap in," he said good-naturedly. "Pretty grim. What's your name?"

She said nothing.

Heron moved closer. In a soft tone that brooked no argument, backed by essence, he said, "Tell me your name."

"Holly Skylark," she said as if surprised to find herself talking. "Third Claw Leader of the Haltan Expeditionary force."

"Pleased to meet you, Holly. I am Heron. I'm here to rescue you."

"Rescue… Me?"

"Is it that surprising? Can't let a Claw Leader simply languor in prison. Veradun has grown worried you might give away something important," Heron told her. He was not sure if a Claw Leader was significant enough for Verdun to care about but figured he would give it a chance.

The widening if her eyes and the quickening of her breath made Heron suspect he had said the right thing.

"Considering how close this is to happening, I'm sure you can understand Veradun's concern."

She nodded slowly.

"Best to get you out of here, don't you agree?"

"Yes," she said.

Heron moved forward, reaching out, as if he was going to open her bonds, then he halted. "Of course how do I know if you are the real Holly Skylark?"

She looked confused.

"Perhaps this is some sort of trick. Perhaps I should just leave you here."

"No," she shook her head.

"Might be best to wait until there are people who can truly identify you. Might be a little unsafe with the zombies that are bound to be wandering around here, but I'm sure you'll be okay." Heron had to be careful as he worked his influence on the woman's mind. He wanted her scared so she would not be thinking well, but he did not want her to panic.

"No," she said, "I'm really Holly. Please, get me away from here."

Heron looked thoughtful, and he shifted back slightly. "Tell me about the mission. That way I can be sure of who you are. Tell me about Veradun." It was, Heron thought, a ham-fisted approach, which would not have worked had he not backed it up with essence. Had he more time he would have been much more subtle and precise. He suspected he could now get the woman to tell him everything he needed on charisma alone.

She swallowed and started to speak. "He's a necromancer, from up North I've heard. They call him the Ice Necromancer. He came to the Council of Nobles when they were planning on how to deal with the Metagalpa issue. The animals hated him, they said." She stared wide-eyed at Heron, the words nearly falling from her mouth.

"I'm still not convinced," Heron said. "Go on."

"He had a plan, to take the mountain. He had built these horrible things," she shuddered, "that promised us victory."

"How?"

"He's used the Mountain Breaker, the catapult, to throw the massive, undead giants onto the mountain. They used huge pieces of cloth to slow their fall so they could land safely. They will haul up huge baskets."

It was, Heron thought, a rather good plan. It did not ring true to him, however.

"Why does he want to help you take this mountain?"

"What?" Holly asked.

"Why does he want to help you take this mountain? What's in it for him?"

She looked confused and said nothing for several seconds. "He must have a reason," she finally told Heron.

"And what do you think that is?"

She said nothing for a long time, only stared at Heron. What Heron saw in her eyes began to worry him. It was all he could do to maintain his calm façade. When she said, "I'm sure it is a good reason that will benefit our nation," he had to keep his emotions under control.

"When will the attack come?" he asked, feeling as if he was on safer ground.

"Soon," she replied, sounding as if she was happy to move onto a more certain topic as well, "within days."

Heron nodded and got to his feet. "I'll be back soon," he told her.

"Please hurry."

He nodded and then left the shack. The bright sun on his face made him feel better, but only a little.

It took him a moment to notice there were a lot of people standing around the shack. Almost all of them armed, all with the thin, wiry build of hawkriders.

Barinna stood close by. She gave him an apologetic look. One old friend to another, Heron thought and felt a wash of unease.

He took a deep breath and then smiled. He picked out their leader, an old man with leather like skin and no hair. "We should talk," he said softly, "but away from here."

The old man said nothing for a moment and then nodded. "We should."

Heron stepped forward, and the old man fell in beside him. The hawkriders fell in around them. Heron supposed he was under guard.

He walked over to where Dragon stood, Ivory beside him. He smiled at Ivory. "Want to ride?" he asked her as he took Dragon's reigns.

She shook her head.

"Okay. Let's go where the nice people lead." He looked towards the old man and nodded.

As they walked the old man said, "I'm Torvin."

"Heron."

"So Barinna said. She seems confident that you are a friend."

"She is an excellent judge of character."

Torvin frowned.

"You heard what the Haltan said?" Heron asked, switching topics.

"I heard some of what she said."

"Have you managed to get anything out of her?"

Torvin said nothing for several seconds, then, "If it is the truth, you've done us a favour."

They had left the town and were climbing higher into the mountains. Above them, Heron could see the stone structure of what he guessed was the hawks' eyrie. "Do you believe I am here to help you?"

Torvin looked thoughtful. He stopped. The rest of the hawkriders came to a halt as well. More than one had put a hand near a weapon.

Heron saw Ivory shift nervously and move closer to Dragon. Things could go different ways, Heron decided. It all depended on what Torvin did.

"I think you could be here to help us. But you could also be here to mislead us."

"That's fair," Heron said, deciding he could work with that. "For the moment, what do you say we at least act as if you think I am here to help, even as you watch me like," and at this Heron smiled, "a hawk."

For a moment the people around Heron were silent. Then Torvin started laughing, the rest of the Hawkriders joining him.

It was, Heron thought, a good start.