Chapter 12

So, she had a choice to make. She could go with Avad, fortify the Sun King's appearance in the Sacred Lands, watch his back, vouch for him in hopes they could convince even more help from her already battered tribe. Or she could go with Erend and Petra, despite her lack of usefulness as a fighter or even a scout. But she would be with him.

Aloy needed to talk to Avad, alone. Thankfully, at Petra's taunting, Erend had attacked her with flying fists, and they were having a good scuffle just outside of camp. The guards surrounding Avad were becoming uncomfortable, Kiln was making bets on the other Oseram, and poor Avad….

She took his hand, stepping away from his guards. She would miss the campfire, still wet from her swim and getting cold, but this was a private matter. "Avad," she pleaded. "Look… I'm…"

He held up a hand. "It was my fault, Aloy, please." As always his voice commanded silence, respect. "I was a fool for forcing you into my agenda. Love makes men do stupid things."

She wrung her fingers, blushing like a kid being chided.

"Besides," he reached out, offering her a smile as he lifted her chin. "What kind of impression would I have made on the Nora if they saw my beautiful wife moping about my palace like a prisoner? It'd have the opposite effect of what I'd intended."

All of the tension seemed to bleed out of her. Without another thought, she threw her arms around him in a tight hug, one that he freely accepted. He pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. "I am the true victor, after all," he murmurs into her hair. "You're happy, and I still have my Captain of the Vanguard."

Did this man even exist? She drew back, holding him at arm's length. Maybe Erend was right, it had to be her short hair. She searched his dark eyes, finding nothing but acceptance, though mixed with a little sorrow. "When Meridian is once more ours, I will see you have the best of care. Now…" He glanced back to where Erend and Petra were sharing in his flask, already sitting near the campfire. Erend was rubbing his jaw where he'd suffered a particularly forceful uppercut. "I was going to ask for your decision, but I think it's fairly obvious. If you will… "

"Wait," Aloy said. "Here." She pulled off one of her necklaces, her favorite. Rost had carved it from a tree with wood as red as her hair. She withdraw her hunting knife and made several quick cuts. To most people, it looked like scribble. To those who had seen the Old Ones door in the heart of the mountain, it was an exact representation. "Give this to Teersa. She'll know I sent you then."

He bowed with thanks, putting the necklace around his neck. With a sigh, he took her hand. "Once more you drift out of my life like a fire-haired spirit," he murmured, not a small amount of sorrow in his voice. "But when we meet again, it will be in victory.

She considered hugging him again, but the look he gave her made her consider it might only make things worse. She bit her lip and nodded. "Be well. May we see you once more in the palace of the Sun."

It didn't take the convoy long to pack and leave. They were traveling light, after all. Erend and Kiln pored over a few of the King's Maps, pointing out where he suspected new bandit camps may have been established, before the Oseram hugged and thumped their goodbyes. Petra hefted her canon from the back of the King's wagon, dumping it into theirs. Aloy winced. She certainly wasn't gentle with the thing.

"On the bright side, you two almost made it back," she pointed out as they began on their way towards Meridian, opposite Avad's convoy. "Or perhaps you were procrastinating, eh?"

Erend jabbed a finger at her. "You sit in the back," he ordered.

Aloy took up her place in the wagon, as much as she hated it, but at least now Petra was there to talk to. She really was truly glad to see the woman. The Oseram leaned close.

"So how was it? Was it you gave 'im the pop in his side that made him bleed like that? Must have been a rough tumble!"

Aloy cleared her throat. She glanced at Erend as he walked next to the Broadhead, humming to himself. "Bandits," is all she could squeak out.

Perhaps having Petra as a travel companion wasn't as fun as she'd imagined it'd be. The Forgewoman huffed in disappointment. "So. What's up with your leg? Broken is it?"

Aloy moved to show the woman, peeling off the bandage. "The skin's almost healed but I don't think the bone will ever be the same."

Petra mused over the misshapen limb. "You know, back at the Free Heap we've got a little… experiment goin' on. Seems the old ones had the occasional run in with problems like these. What we thought were parts for old machines were actually replacements."

Aloy blinked. "What do you mean, replacements for what?"

Petra rolled her eyes. "Limb replacements, you dented ingot! Seemed to work better than the real thing! If you ask me, one'a those will have you walking and running in no time, without that pathetic hobble."

Aloy was stunned. "You could… put one of those on me?"

"Sure!" Petra chirped. She placed the side of a stiffened hand just above Aloy's knee. "We'd chop it… say… here… and attach the rest."

Aloy's hopes disintigrated. She grunted with disappointment. And here she really thought there was a chance.

Petra frowned, her excitement waning. "What? What'd I say?"

Near dusk, they stowed the wagon and released the broadhead. They could smell the city by then, still suffering from its attack by the machines, the acrid scent that hung in the air from too many burning machines. Petra enjoyed it, she took it all in with dreamy sighs, telling them all this travel makes her sick for the forge.

Aloy was, thankfully, able to keep up. They were moving slowly anyway, the two Oseram assured her, to keep from being spotted. She hated every moment of it. She needed to run again. To climb and tumble and sneak.

By nightfall, they reached the ridge of mountains overlooking the city. Erend helped her down, all three of them crouching and squirming until they reached the edge to look out.

Meridian was a mess. Even worse than before. Smoke rose from almost every corner, and a dark film seemed to cover the entire valley. Petra emitted a murmur of surprise when she saw the turrets. They'd been hastily build but sturdy looking. "What in forge's name ARE those things?"

Aloy squinted in the darkness. Never had she missed her focus so badly. "They look like what Rath's men had," she noted. "Only bigger. Did they get those from Destroyers."

"Probably," Erend admitted. "With a little bit of extra Oseram mixed in there. Look, the gates are all drawn. Most of the bridges are damaged. How the hell are they getting food in and out?"

Aloy pointed. "They've razed the fields. Maybe took everything they could. But why? Unless it's only until there are no more Carja prisoners." That's when they noticed the soft screams on the wind, of shouting. Grimly, they looked at eachother. "I guess they're gonna draw it out long as they can. Send a message to the Carja that got out."

Petra looked very sober. "This ain't right. I can't believe this is Oseram doing…"

A metallic screech shook the air. Instantly the three of them ducked from sight, panting. "What was that?!" Erend hissed urgently.

Aloy swallowed. "Stormbird," she whispered. "They have a Stormbird."