Chapter 30: Foundations

Sapphire wire, plasteel plating, and engram-crystal databanks. It was all there, but putting it together? He was out of his league. Repairing Frames was an art Ikharos had no talent at, though he gave it a try regardless. On the bright side, he had Xiān with him. The Ghost knew exactly what to do - but Ikharos decided he wanted to try his hand at it first, alone. The surprise attack during the previous night had hammered home a fear that plagued every Guardian he knew: of going on without a Ghost.

He couldn't imagine summoning the conviction to continue without her, but he knew that the universe was far from fair, and being the sole Guardian of an entire world was a tall order. The odds were stacked against him. Them. The chance that one of them could die was too high to not consider. They'd talked about it earlier in the morning and neither had emerged happy about the result - so maybe that meant they'd reached the right decision.

It didn't make it easier, though.

If she died, he needed to be more careful with his one remaining life and stay out of the spotlight, but if he died instead, died a true death, then Xiān needed to pick another Guardian. Considering there was an entire world to choose from, finding a body with enough natural Light was possible, though Ikharos didn't kid himself. It would be hard enough for one of them to lose the other, but to replace them? He was disgusted with the idea. Utterly despised it.

And yet he was telling Xiān to do exactly that.

"I'll do whatever I need to," she had replied in a shaky voice. "Just... please don't die. I don't want to have to make that choice."

Formora was more than right when she had said they needed allies. The attack had was evidence enough. That many Shades and Exos? They wouldn't have even needed that amount to kill him. Half that would have been just as effective, given that they'd taken him by complete surprise. The only reason he was still alive was that the Exos obviously hadn't accounted for the bloodthirsty nature of their Shade allies. Or the ferocity, stubbornness, and resourcefulness of Eliksni - Kiphoris in particular.

The Wolf was a gifted warrior and, from what Ikharos had seen, a charismatic leader where his own people were concerned. If he had been in Sol, he could have easily made Baron. Maybe even Kell, if Eramis and Misraaks weren't still playing for whatever remained of House Dusk.

Ikharos shivered and shifted to get closer to the fire. A brisk cold had swept through the empty city, so he'd ripped timber from a few of the nearby houses and sliced it into kindling to keep warm while he worked. He could have found warmer places to repair Kida than the open plaza, but the keep had become a flurry of Scar activity as they recovered from the attack; they looked like they were preparing to leave soon. The displaced Shade Formora had spoken of still hadn't been found, and he didn't want to get cornered by it if it still lurked nearby. Besides, the plaza was in easy view of the Scars, who could respond to any further attacks.

Funny how a single night could change how he saw Fallen.

"How goes it?"

Ikharos smiled weakly and gestured for Formora to join him. "Slowly. I'm not a great technician. We got lucky, though. His heuristic databanks are still intact."

"Which means?" She raised an eyebrow and sat down, legs crossed.

"Which means that if we can get him back up, he'll still have memories, skills, the works."

"Is that wise? He disobeyed you. What if he remembers he can do that?"

Xiān popped into existence. "We're going to modify or disable his radio transceiver so he can't communicate with Scipio. That way Ikharos will be the highest available form of authority, and the Warmind won't get in our way."

Formora nodded slowly, then pointed to the other dead robot lying beside him. "And what of the Exo?"

Ikharos waved his hand dismissively. "Using it for parts."

"Is that wise? What if it's cursed?"

"They're not like Shades. I think their minds have been taken over by a viral concept, but I don't intend on transplanting the brain over. What Kida needs are ocular and auditory systems. Eyes and ears." Ikharos laid a hand against the dead transhuman. "And it doesn't feel Dark."

There was a pause. Finally, she asked, "Where's your armour?"

His smile quickly died away. Ikharos glanced down at his casual wear, then jutted a thumb back towards the keep. "Xiān gave it to a Splicer for repairs while I was asleep. That, and she put in an order for more Glimmer."

"Isn't that a good thing? You don't sound pleased."

"I would have liked to have been awake at the time," Ikharos grumbled. "Now I've got nothing. I'm completely exposed."

"Not for long," Xiān tried her best to roll her single eye. All she managed to achieve was to rotate her entire body. The Ghost twirled about to address the elf. "What about your end?"

Formora sighed and looked over her shoulder. "The civilians are fleeing as fast as they can. They're scared. And rightly so. This... this is madness. All of this. How can you live like this?"

"Like what?" Ikharos asked.

"Always fighting. Always under constant threat."

"Because there's no other way to live. Not for my kind. Something will always come looking to kill us." He closed his eyes. "There's no escape from this."

He heard the clack of claws on stone as an Eliksni approached, but Ikharos refused to give in to his instincts. He knew who it was. He used his knife to pry away a segment of plasteel and get at the parts at the rear of the Exo's skull. More wire would be ideal.

"Velask. Greetings, Formora."

"Kiphoris," the elf replied warily. "What brings you here?"

"Tarrhis-Mrelliks will want to speak soon." The Captain spoke in a way that snagged Ikharos' attention. It was casual, and familiar, like the way the Variks and the other Reef scribes spoke. Those who'd been exposed to humans.

"What happened to his son?" Ikharos asked, not taking his eyes off his work. Kida's neck was starting to take shape again. The biggest obstacle lay in bringing together what fragments of his head remained and reworking it to use the sensory systems of an Exo. Maybe he could snag a Scar Shank and-

"Behave," Xiān warned him.

To his surprise, Kiphoris chuckled. "He was, ah, found alive in the keep with friends. In the cool-cavern beneath."

"The cellar," Ikharos caught on quickly. "Did he...?"

"They didn't know about the attack. They were drinking too much wine to hear."

That put a grin on his face. "Little bastard."

"Tarrhis is not impressed, but I am. So many bottles."

A silence stretched out. Before the awkwardness started to grow, Ikharos broached a topic that had been bothering him the entire morning. "Do you still have the sword?"

"I... yes." Kiphoris drew the blade. It was different design-wise to most Eliksni shock swords, having a more ornamental appearance than was the norm. The guard was a silver foil that protected the fingers, and instead of shock cores possessed prized azure gems fizzling with Arc energy. A long, thin, and deadly-sharp blade reached out from the hilt, smooth on one side and serrated on the other. The Wolf sigil was branded near the bottom of the blade, just over the foil on both sides. "It is a sword of Kells. Of Wolves. It is Ka'Den."

"It's also not the real one. The Ahamkara made it."

"The real sword was destroyed with Virixas-kel by Mara-kel," Kiphoris retorted. "This will replace the loss of Wolves legacy."

Ikharos clicked his tongue. "Just let me make sure the Ahamkara isn't hiding inside it." He held out his hand.

Kiphoris gave him a suspicious look, then handed the weapon over. Ikharos raised the nullscape and ran his hand down the weapon. So far so good, he thought. He grasped the hilt and activated the crystals with the pull of a hidden trigger. Potent Arc lightning ran up and down the gleaming blade. Nothing happened else. No paracausal reaction, no wish, no bite. It felt... normal. Like an object of the corporeal plane was supposed to. He was still inclined to distrust it, but odds were the Ahamkara just summoned it on a whim rather than to lay down an elaborate plan in the event of its death.

"Here," he gave it back to the Captain. "Yours now, Wolf."

"No," Kiphoris shook his head. "I will hold it for now, but I am Scar. I will gift this to Wolf-banner."

Ikharos pursed his lips. "There aren't any Wolves. Not anymore."

Kiphoris went still. "What do you mean?"

Ikharos paused. "I mean the Wolves are gone. A few were absorbed into other Houses like you, the rest were wiped out. Between the Martian Cabal and the Scorn on the Shore, they didn't stand a chance."

"Scorn?" Kiphoris pressed, his voice sharp.

"Your old Archon's new House, except they aren't really... Eliksni anymore. Fikrul mutated them."

"Fikrul, the Heretic..." The Captain growled. "Did you kill him too?"

"He comes back. We don't know how to."

Kiphoris began muttering dark things in Eliksni, things even Ikharos didn't dare translate. He went back to work, delicately aligning a trio of wires against the dead Frame's neck strut.

After a lengthy pause, Kiphoris grunted. "I came to discuss with you our past-foes."

"Go on."

"Wish-beast became Skolas-kel. I want to know if because of you, or I."

"You," Ikharos answered quickly. "If it had been me, it would've become something a whole lot worse."

"What could be worse than Skolas?" Kiphoris challenged. There was a fire in his voice.

Ikharos didn't even need to think about it. "Oryx."

The Captain flinched. "... You jest."

"I'm not in the mood to joke."

"Oryx cannot be felled."

"Really? Because he's very much dead. I made sure of it."

Kiphoris rose up to tower over the Guardian. Ikharos resisted the urge to rise to the challenge. "You claim to have won where great Chelchis-kel failed?"

"Älf er du ilumëo," Ikharos muttered. He glanced up at the Captain, who's eyes widened in surprise. "There's your truth."

Kiphoris growled. "The language of Shades."

"Language of Harmony, most like. Every oath spoken in it is binding and truthful. Just ask Formora - she's fluent in it."

The elf in question slowly nodded. "He isn't wrong."

Kiphoris just sort of stared at him. A few moments passed and he shook his head. "I did not come for magic or boasts. I came for your knowledge."

"Ask your questions."

"Name the assassins. You know them."

"They're Dark, as I've told you before. Like the Hive."

"They serve Hive?"

"No. Something else. Nezarec."

"What is Nezarec?"

Ikharos paused and gathered his thoughts. "Not entirely sure. Harmony, I think. His past isn't as well recorded as the Hive Triumvirate's was. He's not Hive, but he's just as Dark as they are. And he's become a god. He's using the people here to feed his power. We found him within his own Ascendent plan. You know, like Crota's? His Grey City is just like the Hellmouth."

When he finished, the Kiphoris blinked and dipped his head. "Psekisk. This is a mess."

"Yeah," Ikharos agreed. "It is."

"And you seek to oppose this Dark?"

"Of course." He folded protective plating over the wires in Kida's neck. The Exo's parts were of exquisite quality.

Kiphoris squatted down. With his heavy cloak pulled around him and winged helm atop his head, he resembled the wraithlike owls of Vroenguard. The biggest bird on Kepler. "What do you plan now?"

Ikharos exchanged a glance with Formora. "Leaving. This place is getting too much attention. We need to move before the Shades or Cabal come back."

"We were tracking a Shade this way to begin with," Formora added. She walked over to take a closer look at the Exo. "And I don't know what the king plans, but he'll act soon. Of that I'm sure."

"Galbatorix?" Kiphoris asked, taking them by surprise.

"You... know about him?" Ikharos asked curiously.

"You are not the only humans I've spoken with. I may be a Scar, but I was once a Wolf. I must know the worlds I walk." Kiphoris tilted his head curiously. "Why is this Shade important?"

"Because we have to kill them all to weaken Nezarec. And no one leaves until Nezarec dies." Ikharos exhaled. "The Warmind won't let us."

"So it was a machine that brought us down? I thought as much." Kiphoris nodded. "How did it come to be here? How did the humans find their way to this world?"

"Golden Age expedition," Ikharos told him. "It looks like things went awry. I'm not sure what happened, but they encountered-"

Formora gave a startled gasp and jumped to her feet, sword drawn. Ikharos tore out his cannon purely on instinct - he remembered, moments later, that it was out of ammo. "What is it?" He asked. His eyes scanned the horizon, searching for a Cabal ship.

"Exo!" She stared at the prone body. "It's still alive!"

As quick as he could, Ikharos drew his knife and plunged it into the robot's back. Nothing happened. He looked questioningly at Formora. "Now?"

She shook her head. "I can feel its consciousness. It's dormant, like it's hibernating. It's not dead."

Kiphoris stepped around them and clutched the Exo's head in his claws. He pried away the plating and reached in, grasping something and ripping it out. With a shower of sparks, he withdrew a rough metal sphere still loosely attached to a few remaining wires. The Exo's mechanical brain. It was grey and lifeless.

"Wait." Ikharos lightly grasped one of the wires and followed it down into the skull. He traced it further down, cutting away more plasteel so they could see where it led, and it stopped at the spinal column just below the head. "Something's here."

He cut around the spine and delicately pulled the top of it out of the corpse. Most of it was just sapphire wires and plasteel support, but a blinking red light at the top drew his attention. He fiddled with it, discovering that while the segment was securely attached to the spine, it wasn't soldered to the steel like the other segments. The wires from the brain fed directly into that exact segment too.

Ikharos looked at Kiphoris. "Hold it for a moment." Then he used the tip of his knife to slice away the locks on the strange part and tugged it out. It was a perfectly smooth disc, about two inches wide, and half an inch tall at the centre. The wires fed into dataports at the top. With a rough tug, Ikharos pulled them out, and held up the disc. "Is this it?"

Formora leaned in close. Her brow was furrowed with suspicion. "It is... But what is it?"

"Digital dogtags. A backup brain. A military-grade titanium alloy shell, by the looks of it. What the Exo doesn't survive, this will."

"But what purpose does it serve?"

"Surviving what would otherwise be certain death. If this can be retrieved, then maybe it can be planted into another body." Ikharos surged to his feet. "What's being done with the other bodies?"

Kiphoris tossed the dead brain aside. "Splicers will tear them apart and take what they wish. Tarrhis will use their steel to build a trophy. But I will stop them." The Captain turned about and ran towards the keep.

"Can they really come back?" Formora asked.

Ikharos hesitated. "The Exo I spoke to said he was immortal. Maybe this is what he meant."

"Did he say anything else?"

"Nothing important."

Formora exhaled slowly. "So what happens now?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. We continue as planned, I guess. We need to get out of this city before this Exo's friends come looking for him."

"Who's Oryx?" She asked suddenly.

Ikharos grimaced. "A living horror forced onto the universe. God-King of the Hive. He navigated the twisted depths of the Dark to find power. He was... the most horrible thing I've ever had the misfortune of meeting."

"And you killed him?"

"The Hive are on a grand crusade. They see the conflict between Light and Dark as a holy war, and Oryx was the lead crusader. Entire worlds fell to his blade. It took everything we had to finally put him down."

"If... if you killed Oryx, what threat does Nezarec pose to you?"

"I killed Oryx, but I had friends with me. The difference in the effectiveness of a single Guardian as opposed to that of a team is a phenomenally wide gap. A Guardian can challenge a small army. Two Guardians can fight off an infinite amount of foes forever, provided they have ample cover. A Guardian can't kill an Ascendant god, but a fireteam can. And I'm just one Guardian." Ikharos paused. "Ours is an uphill battle."

"You aren't the only one who fights," Formora challenged, though uncertainly at that.

"No, I'm not, am I?" He gave her a weak smile. His eyes drifted back to the disc. "Now, what to do with you... Can you get into his mind?"

Formora closed her eyes. "I can try... No. It's as secured as yours is." She sheathed her weapon. "What do we do with it?"

"I don't know."

"I'll take it for now," Xiān said. She transmatted the disc into their digitized vault.

Formora frowned. "Is that safe?"

"Let's hope. I mean, it's just data." The Ghost turned back to the Exo's corpse. "This is going on too long."

Ikharos raised an eyebrow. "Are you taking over?"

"Yeah. You're useless. You guys go talk or whatever. I'll have Kida up in an hour."

The city was empty. Aside from the Fallen swarming over the keep, all that remained were rats and crows. They freely scavenged from what food had been carelessly left behind. When Ikharos and Formora walked past, they scattered and hid - only to scurry back once they had passed.

"I hear you talked with Lord Tarrant," Ikharos began. "Is he..."

"Dead. He was crippled and confined to his room when I left to investigate the noise last night. The Shades must have found him."

"Crippled?"

"I broke his legs."

"That's… harsh."

Formora stubbornly crossed her arms. "I found him beating slaves."

"Ah. Fair enough." Ikharos shrugged. "I guess it was warranted. What happened to the slaves?"

"I freed them, and instructed them to deliver a message to a guildmaster I knew. The man is influential. The people would listen to him. I'd given him orders to tell the them to leave and find refuge in the empire."

"So it was you. Good thinking. What did Tarrant tell you?"

Formora answered after a brief pause. "He told me the Shade had captured a prisoner."

"Does it concern us?"

"I don't know," she answered. She sounded conflicted. "The prisoner was an elf."

"... Oh."

"Tarrant confirmed that the Shade was Durza."

"Any idea where Durza's gone?"

"Gil'ead. It's a city south of here. And it has a heavy military presence. There's no place as well-protected in the empire as Gil'ead, aside from Urû'baen itself. The elf will be tortured until they give up all their secrets - or die. There's no escape from that city. It's too secure."

"Secure from bandit raids, maybe. I'll bet we could get in easily enough."

Formora shook her head. "If Durza discovers us before we strike..."

"We'll have to move quickly and quietly. If there's a chance it'll work, then it's worth it."

"And after that?"

"Unless we find another Shade after Durza, it's Galbatorix next. Given that he's likely a primary source of tribute, he's undoubtedly well-defended. There might be even more Shades with him, but we'll hunt them... down..." Ikharos frowned. A child stood at the end of the street, staring at them. The boy was dressed in rags. His hair was long and unkempt, and he limped on one leg. A knife was tucked into his belt.

"Hey," Ikharos greeted, and gave a hesitant smile to the boy. "And who might you be?" He asked as kindly as he could.

The boy looked at him suspiciously. "Alfr," the child told him in a hoarse voice that didn't fit him

Ikharos frowned and opened his mouth, but he couldn't find the words. He looked at Formora, utterly confused. She gave him a wry smile, a raised eyebrow, and nothing else.

"You make me leave the city, then liberate it," the boy, 'Alfr' supposedly, looked around. "I don't know whether to be impressed or annoyed. Or afraid."

"Nothing's ever simple with him," Formora added nonchalantly. Her voice had quickly adopted a warmer tone. "At least it's interesting."

"I don't doubt that." The boy stretched his arms. "So... Saviour of Ceunon, eh?"

"I don't care for titles." Ikharos decided to leave his questions for another day. He already had too much on his mind. But this was... weird.

Formora shifted. "Not even lord?"

Ikharos looked up sharply. "What?"

"Lord. That's your title, isn't it?" She pressed. "You're of nobility."

"Risen nobility doesn't work the same way," Ikharos retorted. "And I left that behind me. It's just extra air. Where'd you hear that, anyhow?"

"Kiphoris."

"You spoke to him?"

"I did. Before he tried to kill you, he was rather amiable."

"He's Silent Fang," Ikharos warned. "Be careful around him."

A cough drew their attention back to the child. Or werecat. Alfr looked between them warily - Ikharos in particular. "I have my own questions."

"Tactful as always, Alfr," Formora muttered.

"What are you up to?" The boy posed the question to the elf. "Why have you returned?"

"Because I've made a mistake," Formora glanced away. "We all have."

"What mistake is that?"

"Letting Galbatorix live."

Alfr chuckled nervously, but upon seeing their serious expressions, his laughter died away. "Oh. You're actually set on killing him."

"I've worked a lifetime to do it. And now, I think, it may be possible. Even if it weren't, we need to try. Before he gathers more power." She and Ikharos locked eyes, and she sent him a questioning look. He shook his head ever so slightly. As ironic as it was, he trusted his own people - particularly weird cat-children people - less than he did the Scars with information pertaining to the Darkness. Warlords put Kells to shame.

"I suppose that's true." Alfr scratched the back of his head. "What will you do now?"

"Undermine the king however we can. What of you?"

"To be honest, I don't know."

"Leave," Ikharos told him. "The Cabal will return. Soon."

"The giants?"

"... Yeah, sure. The giants."

Alfr nodded. "I'll do that. Ceunon was getting boring anyway."

"Where will you go?" Formora kneeled down. She sounded faintly concerned.

"I don't know," Alfr replied honestly. "Maybe Surda. As far as I can get from here. Those giants are like nothing I've ever seen. Just like the new occupiers."

"The Scars aren't interested in Ceunon's people," Ikharos told him. "They won't bother you."

"I know. You did send me off in one of their insects." The boy shivered. "I didn't enjoy that. Werecats are not meant to fly."

"They just let you go?"

"Yeah."

"Huh..."

"Stay safe." Formora clasped Alfr's shoulder. The boy dipped his head in return and scampered off. Ikharos watched him run away until he'd completely disappeared from view. Once the boy was gone, he only just managed to hear his companion say, "He helped me escape."

Ikharos turned to her. "Escape from the king's control?"

Formora nodded. "I'd be dead or a slave if it weren't for him. I would never have managed to change my true name, to convince the usurper I was dead, or leave Alagaësia."

"Why did you return? Surely there's more to life than killing Galbatorix."

"Not for me. I lost everything else in the Wyrdfall. Vengeance is all I have." A long moment followed. "And you? Surely there's more to life than your duty?"

"I don't have a life," Ikharos reminded her. "Not like that. I'm meant to fight at every turn. That's why I'm walking and talking."

"That's odd." She placed a hand against his cheek. "You feel alive."

Before he could react, Xiān's consciousness pressed against his own. "We've been summoned. Try to look your best - we're to meet a Baron."

Ikharos thought he knew Fallen. In most respects he did. He'd fought against a member of every one of the Great Houses that survived the Whirlwind. He'd killed both Dregs and Kells in semi-equal measure. He'd spoken with peaceful scribes and cunning mobsters. He thought he knew what to expect

He didn't know Tarrhis, though, and he realized it as he marched into the huge solar at the top of the castle. Once it must have housed the Tarrant family, but by then it had fallen into Scar hands. It was a large chamber, easily spacious enough for the Baron and the Servitor providing him ether. The gaseous liquid filled the air with the scent of sweet sugar, but Ikharos's focus was on how vibrant the ether was. It had a purple glow to it, and it clearly suffused the Baron with empowering strength.

"Enhanced ether," Xiān said. "We've handed them the Cabal tech on a silver platter."

Tarrhis finished his ration and put aside his ether cup, allowing himself a heavy sigh of relief. "I am sated," he began. "I am strong. I will grow. This is the taste of victory."

Kiphoris was present, standing by a window. The Wolf barely glanced in Ikharos' direction, and when he did, he didn't look happy.

"Velask, Tarrhis-Mrelliks," Ikharos greeted. His voice sounded small in comparison.

The Baron rumbled back. "Velask, Ikha Riis." Tarrhis, sat on a fallen pillar, reached over and picked up the body of a dead Cabal war beast and began skinning it with a carving knife large enough to be a scimitar in Ikharos's hands. He didn't vocally demand humility, as merely being in his presence demanded the utmost respect. Fallen at that size deserved his full attention, whether he wanted to give it or not.

"You see this predator?" Tarrhis asked, his eyes roaming over the dead hound. "A fearsome bitch. She almost took mine-son's leg from him during battle. She will make a fine cloak, will she not? To honour her ferocity, I will raise her pups to be Scars." The huge Fallen tore away the pelt of red scales with a loud wet rip. "It is good to reward your allies and enemies both, but only if they are worthy of it. I will not honour those who snuck into this place and slaughtered mine-guards. They fought bravely towards the end, but they did not begin with bravery. They used the twisted magics of Hive and Wish-beasts to attain their goal." He narrowed his inner eyes. "Respectable foes are so few. It is disappointing. But allies, allies I will honour. Your victory has gifted us an advantage, Ikha Riis. Mine-wars will be easier fought with stronger, better fed warriors."

"Wars? Plural?"

Kiphoris gave a grunt, still peering out the window. "We fight other Scars.

Tarrhis hummed thoughtfully. He swiveled his gaze to Formora. "Slayer of the Wish-beast. Is there any way that she may understand mine-words?"

Xiān appeared, much to Ikharos's dismay, and fearlessly flew out. "I will do it."

The guards had drawn weapons, but Tarrhis only peered at the little Ghost with his outer eyes closed, evidently intrigued. "Is this your Shank, Ikha Riis? Or your Servitor?"

"Servitor," he said quickly. He held his Light close and eyed the raised guns warily.

"And you will translate my words, tiny Servitor?"

Xiān ruffled her shell. "I will."

Tarrhis rumbled. "Good." He stood up and towered over her. "Lift your eyes, human. You are noble, and I am not your Kell."

Formora listened to the Ghost's translation and looked up. She didn't say a word. Her lips were pressed thin and her brow furrowed with uncertainty.

"You have slain the Wish-beast, who took the form of a warrior-Kell. I know you have, for its body still lies below and trusted Kiphoris has claimed it was your doing. In doing so, you saved mine-life and the lives of mine-Scars. This is no small feat. I am indebted to you, and the life debt of a Baron is worth much. Ask your boon, and if it is within mine-power, I will gift it."

Formora looked away, lost in thought. After a brief pause, she replied, "I don't want for much. I am alive and I have magic. I can live in comfort if I so wish. Any luxury I desire is within my reach, but I don't want hollow pleasures. I don't want baubles or prizes, as they would be useless to me. What I want is vengeance. Against the man who destroyed my life, and the god who pushed him to it. I want Galbatorix dead. I want Nezarec banished from my home."

"I have heard those names before. Kiphoris told me as much. Galbatorix is your human king, yes?" Tarrhis tilted his head. "Why would you wish the death of your Kell?"

"He is not my king. He murdered his way onto the human throne after slaughtering the Riders."

"Beast Riders," Kiphoris muttered. The Captain turned around and raised his voice. "Yes, we know of them. This is a strange world."

Tarrhis gave a rumble. "You seek vengeance against this... Galbatorix? From what I have seen of his House, it would not pose great trouble."

Formora nodded slowly. "It's not so simple. The king is allied with one Shade - that we know of - and the Shades serve Nezarec. But yes, that is what I wish."

Tarrhis looked over at his Captain. "You spoke of this creature, but I have learned nothing of this Nezarec. Explain it to me."

"Ikha Riis knows better than I," Kiphoris pointed to the Warlock.

The Baron huffed. "It appears we are not as well-informed as I previously thought." He looked at Ikharos and didn't speak for a few moments. Then, to Ikharos's surprise, Tarrhis fell on one knee. His guards gasped their protests, and Kiphoris was shocked into silence, but the Baron ignored them all. "You are Light-Warrior, Deathless One, Ferryman of the Great Machine's graces, Bearer of the Burning Touch, you are a mighty foe to the Cabal. You are great. You are sacred to me. More sacred than even the Servitor, who have fed mine-people for the eons since we left the ether-rivers behind."

One of the guards spoke out in a rapid gush of Eliksni. Tarrhis raised a hand, nothing more than lifting a single arm, and the protest stifled to a stuttering stop. Even Ikharos couldn't believe what he was seeing. It was preposterous, and yet there was no denying what was happening.

"You are holy. You are noble-stood among the anointed. You are a bastion under which we may all take shelter, where we may rally and prove ourselves once more. You are Kingkiller. You stood before the Maw of Oryx and did not falter. Did not fail. For this I bow to you. You are the downfall of tyrants, the emissary for that most precious, and the figurehead of war most honourable."

"I don't-"

"I am Scar and Scarred. I was only an unseeing hatchling when the Whirlwind took everything from us. We do not retain memories as unthinking infants, we many people of the stars, but I remember the hunger that chased us - both of our empty bellies and of the Dark behind us. I want nothing more than to see Riis again, ether-rivers flowing, but that is the forlorn wish of a father who wants something better for his son than a bare alcove to sleep in."

"Father-" One of the Vandals present began, but a dangerous flash of Tarrhis's eyes put an end to it.

"I prostrate myself before you, Ikha Riis," the Baron continued. "I exult in the presence of the Great Machine, and I will let none dissuade me from this. If you had been an eliko, then you would have been a worthiest Kell to follow. As it is, I acknowledge your noble standing and speak to you as befitting your station. You are deserving of it. I name you Kingkiller, Kirzen, and recognize your standing of lordship. I bestow upon you an honour in recognition of your actions when assassins sought my demise."

"... Kiphoris told you about Oryx?" Ikharos eventually asked. The Baron inclined his great head. "Alright," he said, for lack of any other response.

"Now I would ask you, Ikha Riis pak Kirzen, what is Nezarec?"

Ikharos sighed and let go of his gathered power, allowing the Void to flow back into the spaces between realities. "I'm not entirely sure. He's hijacked the Hive Sword Logic to turn himself into another of their Dark gods."

"And you claimed the assassins operate on his orders?"

"Orders? I doubt it. He's hibernating. But they are working to further his interests. The Exos are, in any case. He's turned them to his side, along with the commanding Submind - a powerful AI specializing in military action. The Shades... well, I don't know as much about the Shades as I'd like. If I had to take a guess, then I'd say they're a distorted reflection of my own kind. One of the Exos last night said something about me not being the only Guardian to reach this world." He paused. The idea that there might be another Risen out there was a relief. And a concern. "Maybe Nezarec took inspiration."

"Why does this concern the human king?"

"Because Nezarec is, in all likelihood, using him to gather sustenance."

Formora took over. "When Galbatorix wandered the wilds after his first dragon was killed, a Shade found him and saw in him the chance to upturn Alagaësia's stability. Durza has guided Galbatorix for the past century. Even without drawing Nezarec into it, Galbartorix deserves death. That is the boon I ask."

For a minute silence reigned supreme. Tarrhis scrutinized the two of them closely. Finally, with an explosive hiss, he rose and began to pace about. "Hive gods! We should not meddle in such affairs! You ask too much, Wishbreaker. I will not stand against a demon. Especially if he turns mine-people like he did the traitor drekh you slew."

"I'll be the one to fight him," Ikharos said quietly. "And no one else. I won't risk anyone else empowering him. Galbatorix and Shades are the immediate issue. We don't have the means to track them. Or oppose them, if they gather together."

"We should leave!" Tarrhis shook his heavy head. "As soon as we reclaim the Monoliks-Syn, we could retread the stars!"

"Even a Ketch wouldn't make it into orbit. The Warmind would tear you to pieces. Or fling you right back down to start over again."

"Ah yes. The cursed machine." Tarrhis's voice dripped with contempt, though he respectfully directed it away from Ikharos. The Warlock was left feeling out-of-place. "Have the humans no leash on their pets?"

"You mean a killswitch? If he has one, he'll guard it with all his power. We'd have more luck with Nezarec than with Scipio. And you don't want a Warmind for an enemy. They can make your life hell." He gave a shrug. "Look, I'll write you a report if you want, but the short of it is that we're all stuck here."

Tarrhis gave a deep sigh and perched himself back onto the pillar. "That was mine-fear. This boon is asking much of me, as deathless demons are beyond even the worthiest of Scars. If you assure me it will not be so, then this may be within my reach." He ran his claws against the Warbeast's pelt. "If you are capable, then this would be a grand story, yes?" He chuckled. After a moment, he said, "There is a favour that I too must ask. Do you know why we are here, Kingkiller, Wishbreaker?"

"To increase ether production?" Ikharos guessed.

Tarrhis nodded. "Eia, and now we have it. Mine-warriors will grow and strengthen. We fight for our banner against a shadow of an old wound - Taniks. The traitor wounded our banner with his insurrection, but he left his brother Krinok, the Ether-Thief behind. Valdas-kel allowed the Wretch to live, if only because he and Taniks were often at odds with one another." The Baron growled. "It was a mistake. Now Valdas is dead, and only one of her heirs survives. Krinok claims he is Kell. He is without honour, without reverence for the traditions and histories of our people. He must die."

"And you want us to help you do that? A death for a death?"

"Eia, grim dealings indeed," Tarrhis agreed. "But necessary. Your foe is my foe, mine-foe is your foe. Krinok is no friend of yours, of that I can assure you. He does not respect the Great Machine, and though he was not close with his brother, he may still hate you for killing Taniks."

"He doesn't have to know."

Tarrhis shook his head. "All mine-Scars know of your deeds. Word will inevitably reach the traitor."

"Lovely," Ikharos said bitterly.

"We accept," Formora said. Ikharos sent her an irritated glance, though she stubbornly looked ahead.

A new presence suddenly touched Ikharos' mind. He suppressed a flinch and raised his defenses, looking around for the perpetrator. The voice that rang out from within, however, he found he recognized. "We need allies."

"Maybe, but we do not need more enemies. We already have Nezarec's forces and the Cabal to deal with."

"This is my home. I won't let it be torn apart," Formora firmly told him.

"It's too late for that. The universe has caught up."

"Will you stand by as innocent lives are scattered and lost?" Formora challenged. "I thought you objected to that."

He scowled. "This will mean a war unlike anything you've known before. Just remember, when you find yourself caught in a real firefight, that you asked for this."

The Baron slammed a fist against his breastplate and began speaking in High Speech. "I, Tarrhis, the Oathkeeper, do swear to stand by Formora, the Wishbreaker and Ikha Riis, the Kingkiller and treat their foes as mine-own. If mine-oath is betrayed, let me be devoured by Hive-Wyrms." When he finished, he gave them an expectant look.

Formora bowed her head. "Eka otherúm eom faedhír Krinok," she swore in the ancient language. The Eliksni, despite not knowing the tongue, gave a start as the statement's meaning made itself known.

"Language of magic," Tarrhis murmured, fascinated. He leaned forward eagerly. After a brief moment, he switched his gaze to Ikharos.

"I need to ask you to do something."

"Shoot," Lennox's grin was wide. She was excited. He blamed himself for that. There was a heavy click as she loaded her rifle and braced it against her shoulder.

"Promise me you'll stay back. Use your Shadowshot, clear off the Psions before they grow, and don't let the Vandals pick us off, but leave her to me."

"And let you take all the glory?"

He struggled to contain his growing frustration. "This isn't a game. If she catches you, there won't be any coming back."

Her smile never died, but her optics - a soft yellow - dimmed with heartfelt warmth. "Don't worry. We'll get through this. Right Gecko?"

"Right," the green Ghost shyly agreed.

"And then we'll tell Jaxie all about how we single-handedly saved the day - again."

"Please..."

"Fine, I'll leave it to you. Satisfied?"

"Very," Ikharos sighed.

"Hey, Ike!" Quantis waved to them. "Are we going or what? Come on!"

"Off to slay the dragon, eh?" Lennox clapped him on the shoulder. "Let's go."

Ikharos reluctantly echoed the oath. "Eka otherúm eom faedhír Krinok."

Tarrhis gave a throaty growl. "Then we are bound together by chains of honour and magic, and fated to walk the same path. We will walk, and we will share our strength so that none are left behind diminished and lost. Now," he gestured to one of his attendants, a Dreg with her docking clamps recently removed. She dipped her head and presented the Baron with a pile of smooth metal discs clutched in her hands. Some bore scratches from the blades and claws that tore them out of their bodies. "The matter of the assassins. Kiphoris tells me you may be familiar with these."

"I'm not," Ikharos admitted. "But their function is obvious, now that we know the Exos are still alive."

"I shall set Splicers to break down their firewalls and flay the knowledge from their minds. When they are empty of secrets they will be scrapped. Drotos?"

"Of course, mine-Baron." Another of the Eliksni, who stood as large as Kiphoris but wore ceremonial robes rather than the armour of a Captain, gave a deep bow. He turned to Ikharos and twisted his hand outwards to deliver a miurlis salute, flexing his claws and then grasping a handful of air. "It is an honour, Child of the Great Machine. I am Drotos-Achris pak Helkren. Would you gift us your disc?"

Ikharos turned to Xiān. The Ghost wordlessly transmatted it into the air and held it there. Drotos gawked at the process, and delicately grasped it in cupped hands. His eyes met Ikharos' own. "Your Servitor is impressive, despite its size."

"Damn right," Xiān mumbled in English. Ikharos couldn't help the smile. Her bravery knew no limits.

"You track another assassin, Kirzen?" Tarrhis asked suddenly

Ikharos' smile was quickly replaced with a frown, and he sent Kiphoris a sidelong glance. Tattletale. "Not an assassin, but certainly aligned with them. He's the whole reason we came to Ceunon."

"Did you catch the creature's scent?"

"We did. It's a few months old, but we have reason to believe the Shade went south, further into the Empire. Our target city is a week away if we set off on hoverbike-"

"No."

Ikharos was taken aback. "... No?"

"I will not allow such a creature to survive another week. Their existence is an insult to the Scars, and to the Great Machine."

"They are heretics," Drotos added. His pale-red robes flowed to the ground and rustled whenever he so much as twitched. A myriad of Eliksni runes dotted the cloth, prayers written in flowing lines of High Speech.

Tarrhis clicked his mandibles in grim anticipation. "I have already begun preparations. I had prepared to request you to investigate these assassins on my behalf, Ikha Riis, but your soul is already set towards vengeance." It seemed to bring the Baron some measure of amusement, if his closed outer pair of eyes were any indication. "Mine-strength is in war. Mine-Captains-loyal Sundrass and Palkra are as I am. Together we may fight and win battles. But not Kiphoris, whom I hold in high regard. Kiphoris is mine-huntsman. He is a stalker of great prey and he stalks in my name. He is a ranger of lands unseen, my avant-courier of stars unexplored. His Wolf spirit is willful, of that I have learned, but his dedication is not to be doubted. These assassins sought to corner me like prey and butcher me, yes? Then I will send my huntsman to return the favour."

In two long strides, Tarrhis stood over Ikharos. The disparity in size was blatant. The Baron rasped through his helmet, "I bid you join him, Kirzen. You are a Light who will illuminate the shadows. With Kiphoris-Veskirisk pak Drakkir, you will find your way is quicker." The Baron turned to his Captain. "Am I understood? Scar-foes are these Shade beings, not those who walk under the gaze of the Great Machine. What say you, Kiphoris?"

Kiphoris saluted the Baron. "So be it. I will stay mine-blade," he said stiffly. He brushed past Ikharos, his every step filled with self-confidence and cold precision. He was so obviously a Wolf, even without being told Ikharos would have known it from watching him.

Tarrhis watched him leave with apparent disappointment. "He was a rare find," he said, after the Captain disappeared. "And fortunate. The bite of his ancestors has been felt in every House, but we do not begrudge it. The Edge Wars do not pertain to our now-troubles. Whirlwind-Scatter has changed us. However, I will not see our tapestries stained and forgotten." The Baron turned to Ikharos. "We will desert this place before the rotation is out. You, too, must leave. Skiffs shall launch before the day falls."

"What will you do?"

"I will grow my warriors." Tarrhis stood. He had the same overpowering presence of a Kell or Archon. "Join Kiphoris - he knows his task."

Ikharos bowed his head and left the room.

The moment they were out of the keep, Ikharos sagged and leaned against the outer wall. He closed his eyes and tried to find solace in the peace of the nullscape. The clatter of working Fallen and the thrum of their machinery didn't help in the slightest. Nor did Xiān as she returned to his mind, but he didn't mind that. She was a source of constant comfort and camaraderie for him. His best friend, and he wouldn't trade that for the world.

"You don't approve," Fomora observed. She stood stock still, watching him closely. A Scar walked past her, muttering polite greetings to both of them as he headed into the castle.

"I... don't know." Ikharos pushed away from the wall. He breathed in the cool spring air and tried to glean some measure of calm from that. He'd always liked the outside world over the restrictions of civilization. He would have been happiest camping out in the wilds. He always thought best when he was out there, without anyone to distract him. "But it's not really my choice. I don't know this world. I don't know your people. You do. I haven't acknowledged that before, so... yeah, consider your expertise acknowledged."

She didn't reply.

"Maybe this is the right path. Hell, I could make a dozen arguments in favour of it, but-"

"Why don't you?" Formora questioned

"Because I'm uncomfortable," he answered as honestly as he dared. "They threatened to kill us. But I guess that's a personal issue. And I suppose it shouldn't impact the mission. We've all got to make sacrifices." He shook his head. "I've got to get back to Kida. Collect your things." He looked around at the empty city. Nothing but Eliksni, and they only stayed around the castle. "Ceunon's done for, no matter what happens next."

She grabbed his arm before he could wander off. "Why are you uncomfortable?"

"Would you be comfortable working alongside Urgals? After all they've done? All the innocent people they've killed?"

Formora froze for a moment. Finally, with slow consideration, she said, "No, but I would swallow my pride and continue to uphold my duty, if the cause were just. And this cause is just."

"... Then I suppose I can't argue with you there." He smiled weakly. "Who knows? This could be for the better."

000

Zhonoch wore a scowl as he marched to the Primus's field office. He was late. The soldiers milling about outside moved out of the way. He'd worn his best uniform for the occasion. Oh how he hated it. It was too tight around his neck, it constricted his movements, and it didn't provide near as much protection as his Soulrazer suit did.

"Makes you look presentable," Tlac had told him. "You know, for those times when you're not covered in gore and grime?"

As agitated as he was, that memory lessened his dire mood. Somewhat.

"Sir," the Centurion by the bunker's entrance saluted him. Zhonoch didn't even grace the soldier with a response as he strode past. He didn't have the patience.

The inside of the bunker was brightly lit up, and everyone whose voice counted was arrayed around a stout squared holotable. Zhonoch counted almost two score faces around it, only half of which he'd met in person. The rest he knew from dossiers he'd studied beforehand. Most were simply Worldbreaker officers, but a few struck his interest. The drooling and eyeless visage of the Erechaani Auxiliary Potentate - a savage creature that called himself Ruuskn - turned his head to greet him with a wide fang-filled smile. The primitive butcher gave a series of throaty grumbles (quite possibly laughter, but Zhonoch couldn't be sure) before speaking in a nigh on unintelligible version of Ulurant. "Soulrazer is here."

"Soulrazers were already here." The speaker, a Psion Flayer whom Zhonoch identified as Neuroc, greeted him with a nod. She gestured to Tlac and Cadon. "Or do you not count non-Uluru? That would be rich coming from-"

"ENOUGH!" Da'aurc bellowed. He waved Zhonoch closer. "TAKE YOUR PLACE AND MAKE YOUR STANCE CLEAR! THERE WILL BE NO DALLYING!"

"None," Zhonoch agreed. He met Tlac's one-eyed gaze from across the table. "The Flayers should be the ones to organize a plan of action where the Ahamkara is concerned."

"DENIED!"

"Sir, with all due respect, that is how we always deal with Ahamkara. It works. We can't destroy them with airstrikes or artillery. We need to form a Psion killsquad whose sole aim is to-"

"DENIED!" The Primus slammed his fist on the holotable. The corner of the holotable's screen cracked outwards like lightning. "IT IS A FOOL'S ERRAND!"

Zhonoch's frustration grew. "But sir-"

"No further Ahamkara sightings have reached us," one of the Primus's analysts interrupted. "And while the paracausal nature and amorphous capabilities of the beast prevents us from reaching a reliable threat evaluation, we have deemed continued contact with Subject Merida-X8 more likely to result in the instability of the Cabal Empire's presence within the Calatonar system than with that of a dragon."

"Subject Merida-X8?"

"The human," Tlac told him. Zhonoch grimaced; he didn't need to ask which human. He'd seen the recordings.

The analyst continued. "Subject Merida-X8 is in league with the Eliksni Great House Kalakhselen, though we do not yet know the nature of this relationship. Regardless, the subject is to be treated as an asset to the enemy. Despite reports of an Ahamkara, further analysis indicates that Subject Merida-X8 has likely survived the encounter with the creature. Forward scouts report that Eliksni activity within the human settlement 'Ceunon' continues presently, but it is unlikely to last given their nomadic tendencies. The subject has been sighted with them."

"TELL ME ABOUT THE HUMAN!" Da'aurc shouted, looking at Cadon. "YOU SPOKE WITH IT?!"

The sniper closed his eye for a brief moment. "After I escaped from my cell, I captured a human hostage and instructed her to lead us out of the keep so that I could leave the settlement, but the Ahamkara cut us off by the exit. It pursued us inside until we encountered the subject. He was with one of the Eliksni nobles, identity unknown. They appeared to have been working together, quite possibly to fight off the other intruders."

"Yes, we've read your initial report," Neuroc nodded. "We currently do not know who or what these creatures are. While their aim appears to be the destruction of the outlaw Eliksni organization, it should not be assumed that their goals align with our own, or that they may be possible candidates for induction into our ranks. As they are responsible for the murders of Legionary Valx and Phalanx Gre'elk, this new force is to be considered a foe of the Empire."

"UNDERSTOOD?!" Da'aurc demanded.

"Understood!" They all barked back, so synchronized that their voices melded together to form a strange sort of harmony.

Neuroc gestured to Cadon. "Please, continue."

Cadon did so. "I suspect the Ahamkara sensed his presence, as it ceased its pursuit before the subject could notice it. When my hostage informed the subject of the proximity of the Ahamkara, he didn't appear as bothered as he should have been."

"Perhaps he didn't know what an Ahamkara is," Valus Re'eir mused.

Cadon shook his head. "Negative. His words indicated otherwise. We came to a stalemate, as both I and the outlaws drew weapons. At first the human ordered me to surrender. I refused."

"Good boy," Val Teremac murmured.

"The human reminded me that the Ahamkara could arrive at any moment, though he was himself unconcerned. When I refused again, he... let me leave."

Zhonoch frowned. It didn't seem logical. A wave of whispers swept across the table.

"I don't believe," Ruuskn gnashed his oversized fangs. "Why let live?"

"Agreed," Neuroc said reluctantly. "The human slaughtered Val Brutis and almost half those under her command, including an entire Goliath division. Why would he spare you?"

"I can't answer that, as I do not know myself," Cadon replied.

"SHOW THE CREATURE!" Da'aurc ordered of his nearby technicians. The holotable lit up, and a still image of the human blazed up in clear orange light. His armour was ripped and smoking, and he was engulfed in a what appeared to be flames. The human held a sword in one hand and a pistol in the other. "WHAT ELSE DO WE KNOW?!"

"Paracausal nature, similar to but far exceeding that of a Flayer's metaphysical abilities," his analyst reported. "Kinetic weaponry was highly varied; subject appeared to drag new firearms out of the air whenever he so desired. That, coupled with his unnatural capabilities, allowed him to crush the Ceunon garrison. He possesses an accelerated healing factor that average humans simply do not have. It rivals that of Erachaani shocktroopers, but even then... Sir, to put it simply, he did not die. When subjected to force that would annihilate anyone, even genetically-enhanced Uluru, Subject Merida-X8 did not perish. How this drastic difference in power levels between it and other humans came to be is unknown. Whether it is alone, or if there are other such empowered entities planetside, is also unknown."

Tlac raised his hand. "I may have an answer for that."

"SPEAK!"

"According to delayed Red Legion reports received prior to the current campaign - among them the confirmation of the Dominus's death - a species remarkably similar to these humans was mentioned. I would also like to highlight that those responsible for the death of the Dominus were said to possess 'physically illegal abilities' much like Subject Merida-X8. Reports from Ceunon's seizure by Eliksni forces mirror those from the remnants of Red Legion in the Sol system."

"You mean... agh, more Traveler-spawn!" Teremac growled. "More lowlives to leech off of us. More outlaws to harry our borders while we fight a real war."

"I'm afraid the implications of this present a much larger threat," Tlac raised his voice. "It is my hypothesis that this system we find ourselves in is an external human territory - an outpost. The Red Legion reports were brief, and failed to present tactical information on anything other than their defeat and subsequent collapse, meaning that we are unfortunately lacking on intel concerning the humans."

"The humans are too primitive to build a colony in a different system!" Re'eir scoffed.

"What about the weapons system that brought us down?" Tlac challenged. "The humans we've encountered are indeed primitive, but Subject Merida-X8 is not. That much is clear. Neither were those forces that attacked the Eliksni lacking in advanced technology, and their resemblance to humans is... uncanny. I do not believe it to be coincidence. There may be factions of humans who might stand to challenge us for control over the system. And one of them has allied with the Eliksni."

A silence fell over the table as the implications sunk in. Zhonoch mulled the problem over and tried to imagine a battle with more of those monstrously powerful humans. It wasn't going to take much to tear apart an entire legion. Only a few hundred similar to Merida-X8 - or less. And if there were that many... they could become just as large an obstacle towards the Empire's survival as the Hive were. The Cabal wouldn't survive that. The Empire couldn't even hold back the swarms as it was.

"COMMUNICATIONS ARE CUT OFF!" The Primus announced. "WE WILL NOT RECEIVE REINFORCEMENTS! WE WILL NOT RECEIVE RESUPPLIES! WE MUST ADAPT AND HOLD OUR POSITION! WE WILL RECONVENE WHEN A PLAN OF ACTION IS REACHED! YOU ARE ALL DISMISSED!"

Zhonoch walked with the Soulrazer Psions in complete silence. His fury hadn't subsided; he still had no idea what Da'aurc was even thinking. Ahamkara or the human, it didn't matter. They needed to eliminate the problem before it destroyed them. The delays would only hamper their chances.

When they arrived at the Soulrazer camp, Tlac headed straight into the hovel formed of salvaged metal slabs they called an office. It only served to remind him how dire their situation was. Their resources were finite. Black oil they could possibly mine for, but they'd have to range far to find a pocket of it hidden beneath the earth. More worryingly was the food. When it ran out, they would have to resort to raiding human territories, and that would serve to draw attention from their enemies. Eliksni were far from an army, but as pirates they'd long since proven themselves a scourge to the Empire. And here, on this wild frontier, they had the upper hand.

The only defense Zhonoch's Cabal had was the shelter provided by the motionless Magnus Vae. The carrier could still weather a dozen battles, and if they so desire they could transform it into a stronghold that not even the Eliksni could breach, but the Primus was adamant that they repair it. Zhonoch couldn't argue with that. An airborne carrier was a siege weapon few could resist, and given the choice of warship or fortress, he'd choose warship too. It was the Cabal way. Better to be on the offensive than on the defensive.

"Didn't go well?" Orche asked upon seeing their grim expressions. Or more likely picked up on his brothers' moods.

"The Primus is being difficult," Zhonoch snarked grumpily. "He's refusing to act. It's a mistake and it'll cost us, come dragon or human."

"That's not good." The strategist looked legitimately troubled. It only lowered Zhonoch's hope of finding anything to salvage out of the mess. "Come on. Tlac, sweep for bugs. Cadon, close the door."

His brothers followed his instructions wordlessly. Zhonoch followed Orche inside. "What's going on?"

"This." Orche dropped a trio of datapads onto their steel-wrought table. He handed one over to Zhonoch. The Vigilant snatched it up and began skimming through it.

After a moment, he said "This... this is just a file on Da'aurc."

"Read the highlighted section."

Zhonoch did so. "Crest of Strength... Crest of Fire... Crest of Steel... Crest of Unspoken Fortitude. Awards in recognition of his service and deeds."

"Exactly!" The strategist exclaimed.

Zhonoch's frown only deepened. "What's so special?"

"Crest of Unspoken Fortitude. He's dealt with Ahamkara before. I've combed through the carrier's surviving databanks for it."

"So...?"

"Not just one either. Four, each on a separate occasion. I knew something didn't make sense. Protocol dictates that Ahamkara are to be handled and eliminated by loyal Psion Flayers, and their metaconcert is to be supported wholly by the legions. All four dragons were put down and their remains disintegrated. Da'aurc has presided over those four events as the commanding officer, and in each he followed protocol. Until now."

"You think he's getting ambitious?" Zhonoch asked. "That he wants the glory for himself?"

"What glory does he need? By the gleam of Acrius, he's already a decorated Primus! One of Umun'arath's favourite generals! What would he gain by killing an Ahamkara without the assistance of Flayers?"

"I'd say maybe he hates Psions, but..." Tlac replied. "... he doesn't, does he? Not from what I've seen. He's no Uluru-Purist. He wouldn't have been promoted to Primus if he was. He's practical in his methods."

"Until now," Orche repeated.

Cadon offered his own explanation. "Maybe he's scared?"

Orche shook his head. He pushed the second datapad forward. "Look at this. The Siege of Dunrasken."

"I've heard about that." Zhonoch nodded. "Damn good work."

"It was. Da'aurc served as a Valus at the time, bond-brother to the Primus. His Primus died in battle, and command fell to him. His cohort was stranded on-world, surrounded by the enemy, and they persisted until reinforcements arrived. No, not persisted; thrived! They almost beat the natives into surrender on their own! An Uluru like him should have no problem with our current situation. It looks dire now, but he should know that it can be turned around. He's not scared. I don't think Da'aurc can get scared. The things he did during the siege... Reminds me of Zhonoch."

The Vigilant chuckled. "I like that." His mirth died away, replaced by a cold seriousness. "What's this all about?"

Orche lifted the third and final datapad. "Why are we here in the first place? Us, not the Worldbreakers?"

"To investigate for Hive contraband," Tlac answered. His eye widened. "Wait, you don't think..."

The Psion strategist nodded gravely. "It's so easy to slip something in someone's drink, isn't it?"

"It's even easier to make false accusations," Cadon argued. "Let's not jump to conclusions. The Primus is acting odd, yes, but we've been confronted with a force we don't understand. The human-"

"You think the Primus is being influenced," Zhonoch stated. Orche blinked.

"I do," he said after a moment's pause. "I'm certain. His recent actions are... unprecedented. He's not one to stray from protocol."

"There may be others."

"There will be others. Those who've infected him."

"We need to confirm this. And present it before the Worldbreakers with evidence. Those who still have their minds." Zhonoch gritted his teeth. "Not a word of this leaves this room. If it reaches the Primus before we're prepared he'll have us killed, whether he's infected or not. He still commands the Worldbreakers."

"But not the Soulrazers," Tlac reminded him. "We can start by sweeping through our own first. We'll be subtle, and there won't be any reason for anyone to ask why."

"But after?"

"We'll need hard evidence. We'll need to know if Da'aurc has contraband of his own."

"That'll be even more dangerous. I imagine he keeps his personal effects in the Magnus Vae. Reaching them without raising suspicion will be impossible, and trying to break in will be cause for execution." Zhonoch sighed. "This is getting worse and worse. We can't afford to take any more losses, or we'll stand to lose any hope of conquering this world."

Cadon's eye shone with worry. "This is insane..."

"Do you still doubt me?" Orche asked.

"... No, I don't doubt you," the sniper replied. "What I mean is I don't need this. I've just escaped from an Ahamkara to come back to... It's ridiculous."

"It's our job," Tlac softly reminded him. The Flayer met Zhonoch's gaze. "We're duty-bound."

Zhonoch signaled his agreement with a grunt. "That we are. We'll need to expel any traitors in our ranks before they spread their infection. Tlac, begin with our Flayers. If you find a traitor, don't give them away - we'll deal with them later. If someone's confirmed loyal, bring them up to date. Our agents know how to keep their mouths shut."

"Understood."

000

"You hunt," Sundrass noted. Her eyes cut through him like sharpened knives. Kiphoris winced.

"Eia, Tarrhis orders it. He seeks justice for those we lost. As I do."

"And the humans will leave us?"

"Our Baron has seen fit to burden me with them." He held up his hands to stop her impending complaint. "I will not oppose his decision. It is not mine-place. He has been supportive of me, so though it gives a bitter taste, I will not disappoint him. Tarrhis-Mrelliks is our best hope, and we must remember that."

Sundrass sighed. "Eia... Eia, you are correct. He has taken liberties with the human that it does not deserve, but... it is not my place to criticize him."

Kiphoris nodded understandingly. "We will survive, Sundrass-Veskirisk. I will not allow our people to dwindle away."

"We will not be forgotten," Sundrass placed a hand on his metal-clad shoulder and pulled him close enough that she could press her helmet against his. "We are Scars. We will weather this storm like all the others, yes?"

"We will." He closed his eyes and trilled. After a few moments he pulled away. "Farewell, Sundrass."

"Farewell, Kiphoris."

His blood burned and his ether frosted. Kiphoris found he could hardly breathe. He lowered his head and marched away, back to the city's plaza. There, he put a hand against his chest. His hearts hammered uncontrollably, though whether out of fear or something else he could not decide. Maybe it was a mixture of all those emotions, a potent broth of chaos beyond his understanding. He didn't want to leave. He feared the Scars would suffer without him to help them, which was ridiculous. With an irritated growl, he forced the thought from his mind and tried to placate his hearts before they burst out of his chest.

His personal Skiff stood apart from the others. It was a clean bronze devoid of the designs most nobles afforded their vessels, simply because he hadn't chosen what way to paint it. The painting of ships was an ancestral tradition, particularly in House Rain and Judgement, and it was something that the Scars - who kept those traditions alive and well - encouraged. For as long as he'd been Captain, Kiphoris hadn't known what to do. He'd contemplated mirroring the styles of Reef symbolism, but he'd held back on the premise that it would raise questions he couldn't answer. Now, though, those answers made themselves apparent. They had searched him out through time and space, and found him again. He wasn't happy to see the past return.

Almost the entirety of his crews were to be absorbed into Tarrhis's host while the hunt persisted. Normally he'd appoint another to take command, such as Raksil, but the Baron's son had been harshly reprimanded for his actions during the attack. Though Tarrhis was noticeably relieved to see his remaining son still breathing, he'd been furious that the eliko had drunk himself into obliviousness straight after a battle. Victories should be celebrated, Kiphoris thought, but one must always be ready for a counter-attack. Particularly when Cabal are concerned.

A few warriors remained for Kiphoris to use. He'd personally chosen them for the mission. He met Calzan, one of his own crew, by the rear of the Skiff helping a Splicer named Javek lug in equipment and crates of supplies. A young Servitor, Obleker-17, hovered nearby and warbled pleasantly upon seeing the Captain.

"Velask, Kiphoris Veskirisk!" Javeks saluted.

"Ah, Drakkir!" Calzan greeted warmly and firmly grasped Kiphoris's upper right forearm. "This is exciting, eh? It has been some time since we last hunted. I look forward to it!"

Kiphoris nodded briefly and assumed a neutral expression. Inwardly he disagreed, but circumstances as they were forced him to play along. If Krinok hadn't begun his foolish uprising, Kiphoris would have advised hiding away until whatever conflict lay between the Shades and the Light-Thief burned itself out, then sweep in to clean up the mess they left behind. His people had no business involving themselves in such matters. Ceunon should have taught them as much.

It all went unsaid, however. Tarrhis was Baron, and what his Baron ordered Kiphoris would see through, whether he liked it or not.

"Be wary, Calzan," Kiphoris instructed the old Vandal. "We face foes unlike any we have known before. Humans are crafty creatures, craftier than they appear, and I suspect these Shades are just the same."

"As you say," Calzan closed his outer eyes and returned to work. "Javek!"

"Sorry!" The Splicer raced to help the Vandal.

Kiphoris clicked his mandibles and swept into his ship. The hold was filled with containers full of supplies and equipment, some of it stolen from Cabal. He barely had enough Eliksni for half a crew, but he wasn't bothered by that. Tarrhis needed more soldiers in case of another attack, and Kiphoris would attract less attention if he traveled with a smaller pack. He was to hunt, after all, not to conquer. If he needed assistance he could report back to Tarrhis.

He found Formora at the front of the hold, beside the hatch to the cockpit. She was rooting around in one of crates, but a quick glance confirmed it wasn't one of his. The crate had the insignia of the Great Machine on its side; it belonged to the humans.

"Greetings," he began. Formora's eyes darted to him and she quickly pulled back from the crate. Her mouth thinned to a horizontal line, and her gaze hardened.

"Kiphoris," she replied evenly.

He supposed he had only himself to blame. He'd hardly been the polite and gracious creature he liked to present himself as after they'd found Ikharos - but she had also been the one to draw a gun on him. In which case they were both to blame.

Kiphoris didn't know what drove him to disregard the hostile action. Maybe he felt nostalgia. Maybe he was just more forgiving of humans than of his own kind. He was fair, but an attempt upon his life would ensure at least the loss of a limb in a fellow Eliksni, and yet he felt no such inclinations then.

"Pardon our past problems," he began diplomatically. "May we greet anew, without cause for anger?"

She slowly nodded, but her eyes never left him. "We can do that."

He blinked. An odd smell reached him, and he perked his head up. "What is that scent?" He asked aloud. He followed it directly to the box. "It is of strange-steel and clean-rock, fueled with life."

Formora stepped aside and made room. Taking the invitation, he walked over and peered into the crate. It was full of swords. They were all forged with different colours, and each had a smooth-cut gem built into their pommels. He picked one out and held it aloft, admiring the broadsword's edge in the Skiff's artificial light. "Such a blade..." He tilted it, watching as the cream-and-honey coloured metal appeared to shift with every movement. It weighed little, and there wasn't a speck of rust to be found. It was flawless.

"It belonged to a Rider named Daleigh," Formora quietly explained. "His dragon, Telvroth, was beautiful. His sword was forged to mirror that."

"This belonged to a Dragon Rider?" Kiphoris asked, surprised. His gaze wandered over the golden peridot at the bottom of the hilt, watching as it caught the ambient light out of the air and glowed from within.

"They all did."

"Those Riders must have been fearsome, armed with these swords."

"They were," she said softly.

Kiphoris clicked appreciatively. "A fine collection. They are well made. How did you gather them?"

"When the Riders fell, there was a rush to gather the artifacts of power they once held and secure them from jealous rivals. I hoarded their weapons where I could."

"I am almost envious." He delicately returned the sword to its place.

"Almost?" Formora asked.

Kiphoris closed his outer eyes. "Eia. They are beautiful, but none suit me. They are for humans, not Eliksni. If I consume any enhanced more ether, I will grow too big to use them." He drew his Wolfblade, Ka'Den. Fate had driven the Ahamkara to them, he was certain, to have returned the sword to an Eliksni of the correct lineage. The weapon was almost as long as he was tall, and the hilt was designed for a two-handed grip. A wrapping of blue-dyed leather from an ancient Riisen beast provided the hilt with an excellent grip. "This is better for me, I think."

The sudden clank of metal on metal drew his attention to the rear of the Skiff. Ikharos walked inside, his armour whole and vibrant. Beside him limped the Frame he'd been repairing earlier, it's head a bare collection of wires and a single dimmed optic upon a thin neck strut. The robot struggled to walk up the ramp, and it looked around like an awestruck hatchling only just freed from its egg-molt.

"Kida," Formora said stiffly.

The robot didn't have a vocabulator to respond, so it just stared at her.

"You messed up," a new voice snarked. Kiphoris squinted at the small Ghost hovering over Ikharos's shoulder. It was such a tiny thing. So fragile.

"Didn't have enough time, is all," Ikharos groaned. "You want to get back to it? Be my guest."

"Oh please."

The human sighed. "Kida? Enter standby mode. Xiān will fix you up."

The Frame stepped to the side of the hold and went still. The Ghost flew to the robot and began emitting a small beam of Light, transmatting reformatted Glimmer around the robot's head. Scar-mined Glimmer.

Kiphoris stepped forward. He was perhaps a bit too hasty because Ikharos's hand darted to the holstered gun at his hip, but it mattered little to him. They both knew neither would shoot. A line had been drawn, and neither were willing to cross it. Not yet.

"You," the Captain growled. He sheathed Ka'Den. "Before we fly, there must be an understanding between us."

"Yeah, I expected as-"

"No." Kiphoris couldn't hold it back. He jabbed a claw against the Light-Thief's chest. "I will speak now, and you will listen." When Ikharos didn't offer any resistance, he continued. "I tolerate your presence because Tarrhis has ordered it. I tolerate it because of your actions. But I will not forgive you."

Calzan and Javeks peeked in, drawn by the raised voices. He saw them over the human's shoulder, but he was so caught up he didn't care to shout at them, to tell them to mind their own business.

"You sentenced me to that place," Kiphoris hissed. "I can work with you, I can tolerate you, I can even respect you, but never forgive. Never. Not for leaving me to the machines. And on a new day, when our wars are fought and our enemies are dead, we will fight again. Only one will walk away."

"Agreed." Ikharos remained calm, unintimidated. The diminutive size of the creature and the sheer power he possessed was such a startling contrast that Kiphoris doubted he would ever grow used to it. Here stood the slayer of Oryx. What was he, a displaced Wolf, in comparison?

Kiphoris leaned back, his rage spent. "You act too alive for a dead thing. You are almost a person."

Ikharos didn't look upset. Kiphoris spotted a fatigued acceptance in the human's eyes. "Almost."

When all the crates were dragged in and his skeleton crew had boarded the Skiff, Kiphoris retreated to the ship's upper deck. He invited the humans to join him as he activated his holotable, bringing up a map of the colossal landmass in which they found themselves. A glowing dot signified their current location in Ceunon at the centre of it.

He decided to broach the topic directly. "You claimed to know where the Shade had journeyed. Show me."

"Gil'ead," Formora said, and she pointed to a city not far south of Ceunon.

Kiphoris's blood went cold. His hearts once more broke free of his reins and hammered away. "Geel Eid? Are you certain?"

"Yes." Her brow furrowed. "Is something wrong?"

For a moment he could not speak. "I encountered humans some time ago. I sent them on with warriors to safeguard their journey. They set off to Geel Eid. But... If the Shade holds it..." He shook his head violently, trying to dispel the worried thoughts. Alkris and Paltis were formidable warriors, and smarter Marauders. They would acknowledge the danger of the city and keep their distance. The humans, though, would have had no such inclinations. They were too young.

"Why commit soldiers to protecting humans?" Ikharos questioned suspiciously.

"For they were special," the Captain barked back. His eyes found Formora. "One was of your Dragon Riders."

AN: Thanks to Nomad Blue for the edits!