We sail through the air, an airship blown on the wind. Tension tightens in my belly both from what I fear might be happening back home and from my struggle to keep the rickety structure around us together – the only thing stopping us from plunging to the forest floor tens of metres below our feet. Magic, more than physics, is holding it together. Thankfully, nothing has seen us as a juicy target to attack as I doubt it would take much to overwhelm our pitiful defences.

  The basket is overcrowded, our surprising ability to carry more than expected meaning that I’ve brought almost everyone with me who I took down to the village in the first place, bar the kiinas, Komodo, and three of the Warriors. Nonetheless it’s been a quiet, subdued journey, everyone as anxious as I am to see what’s become of our friends. I’ve had to get involved a few times to calm the discussion when it got too heated or fearful, but since there’s little I can say to reassure them or deal with the root symptoms of their anxiety, the conversation lapsed into silence each time.

  The village isn’t quite in sight. I know where it is – the wasteland where the vine-stranglers used to have their demesne is rather obvious from the air, even now that it’s covered in green instead of grey. The developed areas for my village’s farming are just as easy to see by how different they are from the rest of the wasteland. The only reason I can’t see the village itself is because at our angle it’s concealed by the canopy.

  A dot soars towards me; my Bond tells me exactly who it is.

  What did you see? I send to Sirocco, figuring that since we're in visual range, we should be able to communicate too.

  Instead of responding verbally, she sends me a series of images. My fist clenches involuntarily and my teeth grit together as I see what’s been done to my village.

  It’s a battleground even if there are no living beings immediately in view. It looks more like the ground after the battle of the Somme than the village I remember it being, massive gouges made in the earth and hills where once it was smooth. The huts have been destroyed, not a single one left intact. Roots spike through the remnants I see, as if they were torn apart from below.

  Worse than the destruction to the huts are the bodies I see lying scattered around them. My gorge rises and my blood boils as I see people, villagers I recognise just lying abandoned there among the bodies of even more that I don’t. Dead. The basket beneath my feet shudders and we start drifting downwards as I lose focus.

  I force myself to push away the revulsion I feel and refocus on keeping us in the air. Using Meditation to give myself a cooler head, I review the images Sirocco sent me again, this time trying to avoid getting caught up in the deaths of the samurans. Ones I recognise, ones I’ve fought for –

  I pull back again. Come on, Markus. The more we can work out now, the more time we can save later. And maybe that means we’ll be able to help more of those who are still…alive.

  To try to keep my cool, I start narrating what I see in a monotone, hoping that my companions might be able to help me think through what we might be walking into.

  Dusty and River both exclaim at the news, distress pouring through the Bonds I have with them. Yells is silent but I feel the same from her side of the Bond. Windy also doesn’t say anything but I feel the wind propelling us strengthen even further as our speed increases. The rest of my Bound are more removed, but even they are horrified about what’s happened to those they’ve come to know and work with, the same as I. I sense panic beginning to claw at them.

  “Don’t.” I tell them, my tone unintentionally harsh. “Don’t,” I repeat, doing my best to soften my voice. “The only way we can help is to save as many as we can. So please. Help me work out what we’re facing here,” I practically plead. I need them. Emotionally and probably in the fight too. If they lose themselves to fear and panic, it will be all the harder for me to resist my own negative spiral.

  Determination comes through the Bond even as River tilts her chin up slightly in apology.

  Please continue, Markus, she said apologetically. Speak on and we will help where we can. I nod in thanks and continue my grim recital.

  Are the bodies mostly Unevolved or Evolved? Yells breaks in, her spikes flickering with upset.

  It’s a good question. I review the images.

  “Of those I recognise, they’re mostly Unevolved with a few…hatchlings.” I swallow thickly. “I see a few Warriors I recognise scattered around the central area, but the greatest number are mostly towards the top end of the village. They’re surrounded with others new to me.” My brief flame of satisfaction at my people selling their lives dearly is quickly extinguished as I see another body wearing armour. I swallow dryly. “And there’s one…one Pathwalker.”

  Who? rips out of several throats, the grunts harsh.

  “It’s hard for me to tell, but I think it’s Flicks – Fire-whisperer,” I say, feeling sick.

  Ancestor’s have mercy, Dusty murmurs miserably.

  She only just Evolved a few cycles ago, adds River, horror flickering through her spikes. I nod, swallowing again.

  “She fought hard, three Warriors and at least five Unevolved of our village lie dead next to her. They’re surrounded by at least that number of dead Warriors who all bear the signs of flame and weapon attacks, a testament to our people’s willingness to fight to the death,” I tell my companions with grim pride for my people. “Warriors who aren’t wearing armour and who I don’t recognise. And they’re not only there – wherever there is a concentration of our people’s bodies there are bodies of strange Warriors lying around them.”

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  It truly was an attack, then, breathes Windy, the first words she’s spoken in a while. And it’s your fault! she accuses me wildly, her eyes lighting with rage as the wind around us starts becoming unpredictable. You picked a fight with Flying-blade – Shaman knew to be careful of her and never went as far as you did. And now she’s come to punish us all for your actions!

  “Control yourself!” I order her sharply. “Or do you want to be responsible for the deaths of all of us?”

  She clicks her teeth and then gapes her jaws in threat but does as I bade her without arguing. Perhaps even she sees the point in getting us to the ground safely. It’s only when our flight has steadied that I respond, my voice forcibly calm even as my insides churn with emotions.

  “Flying-blade is the one who started things at the Hunt. You had no complaints about my strategy there!”

  You should have known that she wouldn’t have left it at that! argues Windy. She was humiliated, but not defeated. You should have known she would pursue it further! And now she’s attacked our village and killed our sister!

  I feel the words like daggers to the heart. I find it hard to argue with her. I saw how humiliated Flying-blade was, and should have guessed that she wouldn’t be satisfied with her defeat.

  That’s unfair, Wind-whisperer! River exclaims, her eyes flashing with heat. Who could have predicted that she would have chosen to attack our village? It’s shameful the way she has chosen to act!

  It’s only shameful if she fails, Yells interrupts, her quiet voice somehow drawing everyone’s attention. If she succeeds, her actions are validated.

  But succeeds with what? What is her aim? Dusty frets. Is she aiming for destruction or is this a full takeover bid?

  Her people have already killed one of our honoured Pathwalkers, Catch contributes angrily. Those are the actions of destruction, nothing else.

  Yet only one Pathwalker has fallen, Poison reminds him. Where are the others? And where were our brothers? Why were there only three Warriors defending Fire-whisperer?

  “I recognise eleven Warriors lying among the fallen,” I offer heavily, continuing to review Sirocco’s images even as the argument took place. “As for Warriors I don’t recognise…there are at least twenty-seven,” I say with grim satisfaction. “There’s another big group dead near the mountainside gate – laying alongside the biggest group of our Warriors. The others are clumped together around other fighters – mostly Unevolved samurans.”

  Unevolved took down Warriors? demands Poison sharply. Incredulity spikes through the Bond between us.

  I shrug. “So it appears. I’m only telling you what I can see. You’ll see it for yourself soon enough.”

  Disbelief comes from several of the samurans around me including the quiet addition of Healer from the other village who apparently doesn’t realise that her emotions are no longer private; that keeping quiet is no longer a way of hiding.

  We land shortly afterwards, the rickety balloon collapsing into pieces as soon as I release my mental hold over it. I hope we won’t need it for a quick getaway. I doubt it, though – Sirocco has been monitoring the area and hasn’t seen any sign of movement nearby. River, Healer, and I go out to inspect the bodies, looking for anyone who might still be alive.

  I feel my jaw tensing as I see the devastation up close. The village which I left not that long ago is now practically unrecognisable. So many of those I’ve come to know, if only by sight, are lying around me, the stench of death thick in the air. Even the gentle breeze stroking the battlefield isn’t enough to rid it of the nauseating odor of blood and body parts exposed which should be kept hidden. Samurans are no different from any other creature in death.

  Insects have come and are buzzing around the fallen, though no scavengers appear to have appeared yet. Though I don’t know why they have been reluctant to approach, I’m grateful. Not only do I not wish to see my people’s bodies desecrated, but it gives me a better view of the battlefield.

  The damage is worst in the central area of the village, though it seems that almost every hut has been targeted by one attack or another. The most intact still has its roof caved in. As I saw from the air, the bodies are thickest towards the mountainside gate, which is where most of my Warriors fell. Even after walking around the whole village, I have found only the one Pathwalker body. Not that I wished to find more Pathwalker bodies, but where are the rest? Happy’s forge is deserted, though I can still feel a hint of residual heat in it. Hunter’s work area is destroyed, her tools scattered everywhere, two of her Unevolved assistants lying dead not far from it.

  My frown deepens. What does it mean?

  Markus! Come over here! River shouts urgently, disrupting my thoughts. I run over to where she’s crouched next to the body of an Unevolved – one of the lucky ones with hide armour. She’s tipping a vial into his mouth. A healing potion, I guess, since her actions make it very clear that he’s still alive.

  Dropping to my knees next to him, I stare into his eyes and quickly drop us into a Battle of Wills. Practically running across the space between my starting point and the flickering representation of the Unevolved, I slam the Bond into place then immediately start pouring in healing magic.

  He’s hurt badly, multiple stab wounds perforating his torso. The only reason why he’s still alive is because, though they managed to pierce his gut through the hide armour, they somehow avoided hitting any arteries or any other major organs and the stab wound was cushioned slightly by his layer of protection. He shows some hint of healing – perhaps he’d had a healing potion which managed to partially close his worst wounds. But he’s still been lying here for hours with his digestive juices and contamination leaking into the rest of his body and giving him a slow, excruciatingly painful, lingering death.

  Not on my watch. I close up the holes in his gut and then draw the contamination out of the wounds in his skin. Healer arrives shortly after and pours her own magic into the samuran’s body. I feel her jerk in surprise next to me when I grab her magic and co-opt it, directing it into my tasks – it was too undirected for my preference, going to heal the non-lethal cuts in his skin as much as the far more serious wounds to his internal flesh.

  Only once I’ve dealt with the gut wound fully and have made some inroads on some of the other deeper stab wounds do I pull out and let Healer work alone.

  The samuran by this point is awake and looking at me wonderingly. I vaguely recognise him from seeing him walk around – I probably checked out his body and Energy channels at some point, but without making an effort to retrieve the memory, I can’t recall it.

  You saved me! he says somewhat deliriously. I might have healed the wounds, but he’s still lost a lot of blood and will need time to recover. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Ask anything and I will give it, he promises, sounding almost high. He probably is – on the chemicals his body’s generating due to his sudden relief from recent lethal injury.

  “What can you tell me about the recent attack?” I ask him briskly, at the same time instructing River and Healer to continue searching the bodies around us for any more survivors.

  here!

  here!

  here