//------------------------------// // 27: Escape to Aricia - Part 1 // Story: Feathered Hearts - Continuation and Chronicles // by Firesight //------------------------------// Even though time was pressing and they had to act before the next Cloven attack arrived, it took far longer than Gilda would have liked before she and Fortrakt could leave. First, the Ascendancy anchor point crystals had to ‘tag their targets’ in the words of the male Ibex, which required all present to touch the crystal while it was magically active so as to receive some of its spellwork, which would then be used later for the actual transport. Once that was done—it took ten minutes to get all fifty of her mixed military and civilian group tagged, from the Marines who couldn’t leave the perimeter to Fortrakt’s aerial group to the mothers and their cubs inside the structure, who had been terrified by the sounds of combat earlier—she and Fortrakt received one crystal each after being trained in its use.  “At the current count of soldiers and civilians it will summon, each crystal will have a theoretical range of around fifteen griffon leagues. But I would recommend no more than twelve to be safe,” Karin Kazal began. “It can normally only be activated by a special spell. But as we occasionally require a manual means to trigger it for our paid agents in your Kingdom, I can enable you to do so by simply pressing down on the flat crystal top,” the smirking Starshina told Gilda in a conspiratorial tone that left her wanting to hit him again, bathing the gems in a brief magical glow before passing them to her.  “There. To protect from accidental touches, you must push down on it for several seconds. When it begins to glow orange, the activation is successful. But be warned again, Grizelda Behertz: once you start the summoning process, it cannot be stopped.” His previously sly smile disappeared as his tone turned serious. “The spell requires several minutes to complete, so be certain you are in a safe area when you do so. If enemies see it and gain the time to gather, those summoned will have no chance to defend themselves when the spell releases them.” She nodded her understanding as she stowed the gem inside one of her more rigid pouches. She and Fortrakt were then imbued with a series of stealth spells cast by a still-drained and tired-looking Nydia, who promised that her wards would keep them magically masked ‘from a distance’. But even that came with the caveat that any corrupted mage, whether griffon or Ibex, would detect and see through it at close enough range. “For that reason alone, I strongly advise you to avoid contact and combat if at all possible,” Ebon Umbreon then warned her, offering use of his wounded First Scimitar’s repeater. But Gilda declined, having only barely fired one before and not wanting to remove it from the defense. “Make your escape and then your way to the steadholt of Harness. Activate the gem, and from there, proceed to our final stepping stone of Yoke. Once we get there, we will be within five leagues of Aricia’s walls and can attempt to summon help from the garrison directly.” “I recommend you head out in a different direction first to throw off pursuit,” Giraldi then advised. “Once you believe yourself unobserved, take flight at low level towards Harness in a loose formation. Stay far enough apart that you cannot both be taken out at once by a lightning strike or explosive bolt.” “Right,” she said shortly as she also accepted a belt of crystals from the Ravens, consisting of various flavors of gem that could help to either evade pursuit or perhaps take care of enemies in enclosed spaces.  Most of them she recognized, but some she didn’t. Thankfully, Ebon Umbreon did, tapping each of her belt pouches in turn. “This pocket contains white diamonds—flash gems. They can blind your pursuers, though I don’t know how effective they would be against Cloven soldiers or corrupted. And in this pouch are smoky quartz gems. They produce... well, smoke,” he admitted in a somewhat embarrassed air to a smirk from the two Ibexians. “And these are nullification gems. If you find yourself in a magical trap or field, they can neutralize it within a small area. You only have two, however, and they will also neutralize your defensive wards. So use them with extreme care.” “Understood,” Gilda replied. Her head spun with all the information she was being fed, wondering how the Ravens kept it all straight. “Our fates fly with your wings, young eagless,” Karin Kazal told her, saluting her in what she assumed was the Ibex manner by bowing his head to present the front of his horns, which though still visibly cracked in places, appeared to be slowly healing. “May the Ancient Rams of the Rodina protect you.” Though she didn’t know who their Ancient Rams were or the meaning of the word Rodina, she gave him a nod of respect. She still didn’t like or fully trust him, but there was also no denying they wouldn’t be here without his surprise attack against the first flyer swarm, or have any chance of survival going forward without his help. “Here, Gilda. Take this,” To her surprise, Marco removed his human sidearm from its belt holster and held it out for her, offering it to her hilt-first. “If I can’t come with you, then at least let one of my guns defend you.” “Lakan…” Imlay said warningly before Henderson put a hand on his arm. “Mine too!” Chris removed his own sidearm to offer to an equally surprised Fortrakt. “Take it, buddy. Marco’s right—it’s the only way we can help you now.” “Wow. Really?” Fortrakt looked both touched and excited by the prospect, but he also hesitated to take it just as strongly as Gilda did. “I’d love to, Chris, but…” Gilda could guess where his reluctance was coming from. “I appreciate it, Marco. I really do. But I don’t think we can take them,” she said with a sigh. “We don’t know how to use them.” He gave her an incredulous look. “What’s there to know? You point it at the bad guy and pull the trigger,” he said. “There’s no safety on these except on the trigger itself. You pull, they will fire. And the Cloven goes down.” “It’s not that simple and you know it, Lakan,” Imlay corrected him sharply. “They’re not trained on these. We don’t even know if their talons can fit the trigger wells, and they also don’t have a way to safely carry them. And worse, if they fire them, they’ll be heard for miles around. That seems like a bad thing if we’re talking about needing stealth.” “I’m afraid I must concur, Centurion,” Ebon Umbreon spoke up. “If we had time and training—maybe. But it is time we lack, and I would be very wary about a griffon trying to use a human firearm without a great deal of practice.” “The big guy did pretty well before!” Chris didn’t give up on the idea, flashing a glance over at a freshly blushing Giraldi. “But that had a different trigger mechanism he could work on a gun that was well-sized to him. And he’d seen them loaded and fired before,” Imlay pointed out. “Oh, like they haven’t seen us swap magazines and work the slide to reload them often enough? Come on, Gilda. Take it.” Marco held out his L-shaped sidearm again, which she recalled had been referred to as a ‘Glock’. “Please! I can’t go with you, so it’s the only way I can help or protect you.” Gilda eyed the exotic weapon as she thought about it. Though sorely tempted and not wanting to deprive her human mate of his latest show of honor, which left her wanting to rear up and kiss him again, she forced herself to look at the situation logically. She weighed his words against those of Imlay and the Raven leader, and in the end, there was only one conclusion that she could reach. She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see Marco’s crestfallen expression as she slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry, but Corporal Imlay is right. I’m touched, believe me, but taking your guns would cause more issues than they would solve right now. As the Corporal said, we’re not trained, we can’t easily carry them, and if we use them, the noise will instantly attract attention when we want none.” All of Fortrakt’s feathers drooped. “But Centurion—” “But nothing, cub. Speed and stealth are our only possible salvation now, not human firepower. So Chris and Marco? Keep them to defend yourselves,” she instructed, pushing the hilt of Marco’s weapon back towards him. “Yes, sir,” a deflated Chris replied as he returned his own sidearm to his belt. She noted he at least got her proper address as a military officer right, which was more than she could say about far too many of the Marines. “A wise decision,” Ebon Umbreon approved, then reached for something inside his woven fabric. It was scorched from the lightning strike he’d taken during the initial airborne ambush, but was otherwise still intact. “Though I fear that speed alone will not suffice, given that we are under surveillance. Even with some masking spells, they will likely see you leave. You need the means to slip the trap we find ourselves in, so myself and the Second Scimitar offer you these.” He pulled out a single deep blue crystal on a thin chain that he wore around his neck, dangling it before her. “This is what we call a nightshade crystal, made from a rare type of onyx and enchanted with a special and very powerful concealment spell. Wear it around your neck, and when activated, it will render you almost completely invisible to both eyesight and all known forms of sensory magic—everything short of those odd human lights, that is,” he belatedly added with a nod to the cannon-mounted ‘blacklights’ some of the Marine rifles bore. “This is what enables us to stealth ourselves for short periods of time,” he continued with a glance at the Ibexian adepts, who this time exchanged their own surprised look. “Understand, I would normally never reveal this information unless directly ordered to, but our situation is dire and I suppose it can be considered a fair trade for what the Starshina revealed of Ibexian abilities. So listen and listen closely, Centurion,” he bade her, to which she instantly gave him her undivided attention. “It is activated by simply tapping it.” He did so himself and promptly disappeared, causing his voice to be much more muffled but still audible. “And tap it again to deactivate. We do it with our beaks to keep our talons free, but I don’t recommend that unless you’re well-practiced. At maximum charge, it can keep you hidden for around eighty seconds, and then slowly recharge itself over time from the area’s ambient magic. “But the recharge time is much slower, taking nearly nine minutes to complete if starting from empty. So it is best to use them sparingly,” he emphasized to her, waiting until she nodded her understanding before continuing. “When possible, activate them for only ten or twenty seconds at a time—enough to escape pursuit or head off in a different direction unseen. Use it when entering a structure or other potential ambush site.” “So that is how you mask yourselves from our magical probes,” Karin Kazal remarked in grudging respect. “The Capricorn Conclave was tearing its horns out trying to understand how you constantly evaded our border enchantments and infiltrated our bases.” “It is indeed. Fortunately for them, due to the extreme scarcity of the gemstone involved, we cannot produce these in mass quantities. That is why conventional forces are not equipped with them. Not even the Knights or Paladins,” he explained, but then his voice turned sly. “If we could, I assure you that all Ibexians would now be speaking Aeric following the conclusion of our last war.” “So it’s like donning the One Ring,” Marco remarked to some weak chuckles from the Marines, accompanied by odd looks from the griffons and Ibex. “It’s—never mind. If you won’t take our guns, then I hope you’ll at least use that, Gilda.” “Of course,” she said, accepting the offered gem and placing it around her neck, just below her command chain while Fortrakt did the same with the one previously used by the Second Scimitar. She then experimentally tried activating the gem with a single sharp tap, and her vision instantly darkened, causing everything around her to look like she was seeing it through a shroud. “Whoa…” she could just barely hear Fortrakt saying from where he was trying it, his voice muffled like he was behind a thick curtain. “That’s… different.” “Indeed, Decurion. As you can plainly see, it is not without drawbacks. It will affect your ability to see and hear things around you, including your partner if they, too, are stealthed. Our flight goggles will compensate somewhat for the former, but not the latter,” he warned them, passing Gilda a spare pair of the gray goggles he wore out of a separate pocket. “So be cautious in its use, Centurion. And do not forget to turn it off when it is not needed, or you may miss potential threats. Or worse, find yourself with a drained crystal that can no longer protect you when you need it the most.” “Understood,” she said shortly, trying on the goggles next and finding that they noticeably sharpened her vision. She wasn’t sure what enchantments were on them, but they seemed to do so mostly by enhancing contrast and color, even through the shroud of the stealth spell. She experimentally turned her goggled gaze on a still-stealthed Fortrakt to realize that she could more clearly see his outline while wearing them, which appeared as a weak and slightly darker distortion in her line of sight to what lay behind him. Her heart beginning to race in anticipation of her flight to come, she tugged on her various belts and straps to ensure they were secure and made sure her crossbow was loaded with nothing more than a piercing bolt, which would make the least noise of any of her armaments short of slashing with her talons. After double-checking it was notched, she resheathed it in its back-mounted holster, and then presented herself to her audience, human and griffon alike. “Best of luck, Centurion,” Giraldi came to attention and saluted her. “May the Ancestors guide you. And know that I will do my utmost to keep everycreature alive until you can deliver us from this place.” “I will hold you to that, Optio,” she said, returning the salute, then on a whim gave him an affectionate clasp of his head. “And if the worst should happen, thanks for everything, Giraldi. I wouldn’t be where I was without you.” “You’re welcome. It was my honor to aid you, Centurion.” He returned the embrace before stepping back from her. She then turned her attention to Imlay. “Corporal? You told me earlier that you would obey my orders as a courtesy. So I now ask that you extend that same courtesy to the Optio,” she requested. “You got it, sir,” Imlay said with a solemn nod and human-style salute. “We’re already barricading the Main Hall, and if necessary, we can retreat to the same cellars we found the mothers and cubs in. I promise we’ll hold out until you get to Harness and Yoke.” “I know you will,” she told him, returning the honor. “Your Marines have fought with bravery and brilliance, Corporal. I’m very glad you’re on our side.” “Likewise, ma’am,” he replied, but simply smiled when she glared at him momentarily for getting her address wrong again. “Sorry. Old habits die hard.” “And so will we. Please don’t die, Gilda,” Marco said as he knelt down and hugged her tightly. “We still have those two days in Catlais you promised me.” “What?” Raleigh spoke up from the edge of the crowd, to which Marco simply raised a middle finger at him in what she took to be some form of rude gesture. He followed that up by openly kissing her, eliciting a blush from watching griffons—most especially Nydia, Gilda couldn’t help but note—and some snickers paired with odd whistles from the Marines. Even the two Ibex exchanged a brief glance and grin, speaking in their own language under their breath for a moment. They were startled when Stavrou responded in the same tongue with a smirk, but she didn’t have time to ask him what was said. “I won’t,” she promised her human lover. “See to yourself and your friends, Marco Lakan. Because if you die, I’ll kill you,” she warned him with a wry grin and a mock trill, poking a talon into his chest. As he laughed, she next turned her attention on Chris and Tara. They were hugging Fortrakt hard and sniffling, begging him not to perish. He returned the embrace with his wings and gave them both a lick, swearing softly to his Ancestors that he would not die without saving them—and that when they met up again, he had something to tell them. Though Gilda had a guess as to what he meant, the pair looked startled and the Marines exchanged glances. “Dude… are you going to propose to them?” Guerrerro asked. “Propose?” Fortrakt looked confused before the meaning was explained as requesting marriage! “What? No! I just… remembered something that they should know.” He turned flustered, glancing at Gilda for help. She smirked at his reaction, gratified that even for as much danger as they were in, he could still be as dweeby as ever. “He remembers what happened the night of the cider,” she explained shortly, causing their eyes to go wide; even Giraldi looked startled at the revelation. “And he won’t tell me until he tells you.” “Whoa…” Marco said with a nervous glance at his friends. “Do we, uh, want to know…?” Fortrakt blushed and looked away. “I’m not sure you do. But either way, this isn’t the time.” “Dude, that’s a hell of a bomb to drop…” Chris muttered, shifting uncomfortably for a moment and exchanging a glance with an equally uncertain Tara. “Use it as motivation to live,” Gilda replied, deciding to end the conversation immediately. “For all of us. He’s right, this is not the time. So if you will excuse us…” she pulled down her new goggles and activated her stealth spell, positioning herself below the Main Hall’s biggest skylight, signaling Fortrakt to do the same. The room around her went dark and muffled as the magical shroud enveloped her, but with her borrowed goggles, she could still see well enough to navigate. “On me, cub! Now as we planned—open and mask the skylight!” she commanded the two Ibex, who nodded. They did so immediately as the female opened the door—it occurred to her only then that she still didn’t know the doe’s name—while the buck cast an illusion spell around it to make it look like it was still sealed shut. At their nod, Gilda took flight. Just four beats of her wings later, she had shot through the skylight followed swiftly by Fortrakt; she could just hear the opening being shut and locked again behind them as they turned west. Flying over the outer wall, she saw at least one group of several dozen Cloven soldier forms hidden outside the steadholt and a small flock of flyers who circled the Main Hall, searching for something that was no longer there. Her heart pounded and her wings beat hard as she passed them. But the stealth spell worked as none so much as glanced towards her; their attention still fixed on the final redoubt of their quarry as the pair exited the steadholt. Once past the Cloven sentries, they continued heading out a short distance before turning south, following the path of a nearby stream. * * * * * A minute later, having already sprinted through the air an entire league away, she signaled Fortrakt to deactivate his stealth spell by turning hers off, causing her vision to brighten again and the nighttime sounds to return in full force. She took the latter as a good sign that there were no Cloven in the immediate vicinity, and thus decided they were safe to stop for a moment, especially since Nydia said her spellwork would keep anybody from noticing them at extended range. Landing just long enough to catch their breath and shake off the adrenaline surge that had accompanied their flight and left their limbs feeling shaky, they exchanged a terse nod and headed out east across the smoke-shrouded countryside over a burned-out wheat field, keeping as low to the ground as they dared. It wasn’t directly towards their first destination of Harness, but she didn’t plan to turn towards it until she was safely away from any Cloven who might be monitoring its various avenues of approach. Avoiding the main roads and side paths in favor of areas away from potential traffic and prying eyes, they flew low over a series of burned-out farmhouses and fields before turning north along a Caleponian-dug irrigation canal, using it as cover. The water burbled beneath them while singing crickets and horned frogs croaked happily away, seemingly oblivious to the existential threat the kingdom faced. They were making good time, but Gilda nevertheless found herself quite jumpy, and not helping was the fact that she and Fortrakt were flying in silence, trying not to make any more noise than was necessary. Twenty minutes later, when they were around five leagues from Bale and what she estimated was four from Harness, whose isolated hill she could just make out as a gray shadow in the distance whose top poked above the smoky haze, she banked northeast out of the stream bed, trusting Fortrakt to follow her. He did so promptly, staying in her slipstream as dragons did to conserve energy during long flights. Not that this was a long flight, but it was in some ways even more taxing given their ground-hugging course and thicker air, to say nothing of the constant smell of smoke and not being able to fully see what was in front of them. Her heart clenched when all the fireflies suddenly stopped lighting up and the animals fell silent, followed by a great flap of wings as every crow in the area abruptly flew away. “Stealth yourself!” Gilda spoke in a harsh whisper for the first time since they had taken off from Bale. “By your command!” Fortrakt whispered back, his voice very tense as she chanced gaining some altitude to look around. She didn’t see anything to her right, but Fortrakt elbowed her and pointed with a talon to her left, his foreleg suddenly shaking. Gilda followed his gaze and her guts clenched hard. Just two hundred wingpaces away was a column of Cloven nearly a quarter-league long, mustering at least a thousand mixed soldier forms and corrupted.  The former had at least five Cloven types that she could see, including a new and much larger flyer whose form and abilities she couldn’t discern from distance. There were six of them flanked by two entire centuries of varied airborne forces, including the smaller razorbat Cloven and flightworthy griffon corpses. And worst of all, they were heading right for Bale, eschewing roads and trails to march directly across the countryside; at their current rate of travel she estimated they would arrive there in fifteen minutes. “By the Ancestors…” she could just barely hear an agape Fortrakt saying before Gilda yanked him away by his shoulder straps, signaling him to follow her as she headed away from the column at her best speed. It took them further south away from their path to Harness, but she didn’t dare overfly the column for fear of being detected or triggering the lightning field above them.  Especially not with the column covered by at least five captured Magus Knights; their staves glowing bright with purple light. “Crows take it…” she muttered, deactivating the stealth spell immediately upon realizing that the Cloven had somehow gained the human knowledge on how to defeat magical shrouds. She waited another twenty seconds and they’d put another quarter league between them before landing at the edge of an incinerated and still-smoking apple orchard, hiding in a ditch and intending to wait until the column passed. “Centurion…” Fortrakt began ominously as they observed the Cloven from afar, the pair no longer stealthed for fear of being lit up, even at a distance by the blacklight-emitting staves. “They’re heading for—” “I know,” she said shortly. “And against that army, they’ll have no chance.” “What do we do?” he asked her; she could just hear him clicking his beak repeatedly in his anxiety. “Can we warn them? Maybe fire a flare?” “No! If we do that, the Cloven will know there are spies in the vicinity and we’re as good as dead. All we can do is make sure nobody’s there when the Cloven attack,” she decided grimly as she rapidly formed a new plan in her head. “We wait here five minutes to let the column pass and the stealth stones recharge. After they do, we’ll head east again, and then turn north. At that point, we’ll take a chance and head to Harness at higher altitude and speed, using the smoke that grass fire is generating for cover.” She nodded off to the eastern distance at a smoldering area that was full of glowing embers, which she guess had burned in just the past hour. Fortrakt gave it a wary look. “I don’t know, Centurion. Never mind the lightning threat, but there are clearly dragons around if that field is freshly burned. If we fly higher, they could detect us,” he fretted. “Then we’ll just have to hope we—" Her voice was cut off by a series of loud and large wing flaps coming in the distance, carried along the wind. She looked up and her guts clenched again to see a pair of massive saurian silhouettes approaching; glowing cracks in their chests and necks confirming their identity to Gilda instantly. She froze like a frightened cub for a moment until Fortrakt snapped her out of it. “Centurion!” he whispered in warning as he disappeared, causing her to blink, her mind suddenly filled with a vivid image of her amulet and an equally strong impulse to slap it to reactivate its stealth spell. She cringed, having forgotten about it in the dread of seeing adult dragons approach; if she hadn’t immediately tapped it, they might well have spotted the heat of her body against the cooler ground around them as they got closer. To her relief, they didn’t seem to detect her or Fortrakt as the pair of large reptilian creatures passed right overhead. But to her consternation, they, too, were headed for the steadholt. “Ancestors preserve us…” Fortrakt said after they had passed. “And Ancestors preserve them!” “Keep it together, cub,” she told him through a very dry throat, as much to cover her own sudden surge of anxiety and pounding heart to see the giant and quite lethal adult dragons, who could lay waste to the steadholt and everycreature within it with a single pass. “We don’t know where they’re going. They haven’t used dragons against us yet, and I’m guessing the reason is that they want the humans dead but intact so they can be possessed by a parasite—not reduced to unusable ash.” “Do you really think so?” he asked her; she knew from his dubious tone that he didn’t entirely believe her but also didn’t question it because he desperately wanted her words to be true. “It’s possible. But regardless, the Marines said they had weapons that could counter a dragon. Here’s hoping that they weren’t just blowing air up our tails,” she decided, closing her eyes in silent prayer for the safety of her human and griffon friends. “We can’t wait now—follow me, Fortrakt! Remember that we head further east, then turn north again over that burning field. We have to get to the Steadholt of Harness quickly, so I’m going to risk additional altitude. That way, we can use that drifting smoke layer as cover and get there quicker. So listen closely, cub. You stay well behind and below me until I confirm it’s safe, and if I’m struck by lightning, take my stealth and summon crystals and then leave me behind after stabbing my brain with a blade.” “Gilda…” Fortrakt looked appalled at the idea, his eyes going wide and jaw dropping open at the image. “By all my Ancestors, I can’t do that!” “You can and you will,” she told him, less as a superior than a friend, putting a paw on his chest. “Our lives are expendable, cub. But the humans are not,” she reminded him sternly, though she couldn’t help but feel touched by his concern. “And besides, I’ll be damned if I let my body be possessed and used to attack Marco or anycreature else. I hope it’s the same for you.” He squeezed his eyes shut tightly for a moment before opening them and turning his gaze on her. “It is. I swear to the Ancestors I’ll do it, as long as you promise to do the same for me.” She nodded once, and judging it safe again, she took flight, heading further east for another league before turning north again, over the freshly burned fields. The smoke from the still-smoldering crops remained choking in places, causing her to remove a special cloth from her vest and wrap it around her beak as they entered it. It was part of their standard equipment, enchanted to screen out poisonous fumes or vapors; as they flew, she found herself idly wondering how good they would have been at keeping out the cider fumes that apparently affected all the griffons that collected over the roof of the Inn. Could have saved us all a lot of trouble if they did, she thought, vowing then to live long enough to learn what Fortrakt knew about that night. Relaxing as she entered the altitude of the lightning field but nothing happened—either the Cloven hadn’t changed the parameters, or the field was simply fading, having already served its purpose—she even found herself idly wondering for a moment what he didn’t want to tell her about the night of the cider. We were together but I didn’t let him mount me? How would that even work? She turned the unlikely idea over in her head, considering several various illicit possibilities that suggested themselves but not coming up with anything that didn’t have him in a dominant position. Which she simply refused to believe that she would have allowed in any sense, even drunk on the crow-cursed spiked cider.  But if I dominated HIM… there was a sudden tug of memory from deep within her, and even the barest hint of excitement from her loins. She might have considered it more until she heard a sharply whispered “Centurion!” from Fortrakt. It reached her ears just before she obeyed an irresistibly strong impulse to dip her flight lower, realizing only after she did so that she’d flown above the level of the smoke where anycreature could potentially see her. “Not the time, Grizelda Behertz…” she reprimanded herself sharply for letting her mind wander, though she’d at least been able to see that the hilltop steadholt of Harness was now just three leagues away—barely four minutes at their current speed. She was weighing the danger of making a dash for it without properly reconnoitering the area when her ears suddenly picked up the distinct crack of human weapons, though at that range it sounded like little more than a series of weak pops. “Crows take it…” she cursed with a glance back over her shoulder; the pops were followed by a series of flashes and then a bright orange glow that marked a gout of fire. “Pick up the pace, cub!” “By your command!” he said obediently, falling in next to her as they began to flap harder towards the now-nearby hill. But as she got closer, her heart dropped—the hilltop village was not deserted but occupied with what she could only describe as an alien structure in place of the buildings that had been there before.  It was hivelike, black with some kind of giant pit in the center of it that was filled with a thick, steaming and equally ebon liquid—a liquid into which the bodies of griffons and ponies along with dead soldier forms were unceremoniously dumped and quickly dissolved. The unholy mixture was then piped to a series of hexagonal compartments not unlike a whipwasp nest; they were covered with a thin and slightly translucent barrier through which a single dark shape could be seen in each. “Crows take it…” was again all she could say at first to see the awful structure; the horrid smell of the place alone making her want to retch. It was clearly a Cloven factory, recycling their dead to churn out new and better soldier forms. It was also the final fate of captured griffons and ponies as well as all the various other animals they’d possessed as they slowly cleansed the Kingdom, converting all life to Cloven. “By the Ancestors…” She could hear the despair in Fortrakt’s voice as he saw the massive breeding operation at work; as they watched, a single soldier form burst free of its pod and landed on the ground on all fours before marching to take its place in a fresh formation of them. It looked like one of the standard ground soldiers they’d seen before except its flightless wings had been enhanced somehow; they appeared to be armed with a series of forward-pointing Porkupike-like spikes which she guessed was to give them a modicum of distance weapon to match the well-armed Marines. “We can’t go there!”  “I know…” Gilda said weakly, hearing a faint boom in the far distance. She turned to see flashes in the air over Bale, and as she watched, she saw two barely-visible corkscrew trails of light that appeared above the smoke. They seemed to converge on a single glowing point just visible through the haze, right before they erupted into a massive ball of unnaturally violet fire that plummeted hard to the ground.  By all her Ancestors, had the human Marines just shot down a dragon? It gave her some hope that they could survive the latest onslaught until she remembered the numbers they faced. “We’ll have to summon them elsewhere. Follow me!” she directed Fortrakt, heading south away from the hill, aiming for the burned out-fields they had already overflown. She had spotted a decent-sized depression in one—an evaporated irrigation pond fed by one of the canals, she guessed—that she hoped they could use as a temporary refuge for their endangered friends. It would have to suffice until she and Fortrakt could make it to the next Steadholt, which she could only pray was not occupied. It better not be! Because if we’re caught out in the open for any real length of time, we’re DEAD! she instinctively knew, arriving at the dried-up depression a minute and a half later. “Is this safe?” a very agitated Fortrakt asked while glancing around them nervously. She didn’t blame him given the open field and the blackened ground that surrounded them, smelling of fresh sulfur and filled with glowing and crackling embers from an immolated corn crop.  “We’re out of time. So it better be,” Gilda said shortly as she set the Ibexian summoning gem in the lowest part of the depression—it had been a waist-deep pond, now marked only by the carbonized shells of a few spitting turtles and small skeletal fish on its severely scorched and cracked bottom—and activated it. A painfully bright orange glow appeared around the gem that quickly expanded outward to encompass the pond; she could only hope that the smoke in the air would mask it. Fortrakt stood back to watch, and Gilda wanted to as well, anxious to see if her friends had survived. But she knew she couldn’t, taking flight again while telling Fortrakt to follow her. “But Centurion—" he protested as a large glowing dome slowly formed over the pond, the former’s circumference slightly smaller than the latter. “Now, cub! From what the Ibex said it’ll take several minutes for the summoning process to be completed, and that could be time we don’t have! You’ve got the last summoning gem and we’ve got to get it to Yoke! Now move!” she ordered him again as the lightshow of the summoning spell intensified behind them, but by the time it ceased, they were far enough away that they couldn’t see who was present. She regretted not at least leaving them a note to let them know why they weren’t in Harness, but she trusted Giraldi and Imlay to realize that there was a good reason they’d been brought there—to remain in cover and not do anything stupid. She just hoped the pond would provide them enough concealment to stay hidden and that nobody had noticed the light show through the smoke and haze, kicking herself after she had left for not using a smoke crystal or two to help mask it. The Ibex were right that there wasn’t much detectable magic associated with their spell—she barely sensed it, even standing right beside it when it started—but they had failed to mention that its visible effects could be seen from some distance when it wasn’t in a confined space. Between that and the long time they take to complete, I suppose I should be glad that these Ibexian gems have a couple major weaknesses—if they don’t get us killed, that is! She resolved to remember them when they planted the next crystal, which would have to be activated under sufficient cover. Whatever you do, don’t activate them again in the open! If they would even survive long enough to activate them, she mentally amended her thought as she clawed for altitude again. They dashed northeast and then north using another irrigation canal as cover, her eyes searching for but not finding their ultimate destination another seven leagues or so to the northeast of Harness. Yoke was a mid-sized steadholt situated on a lakeshore that straddled a major commerce route called the Highhawk Highway, but with all the ground-hugging smoke in the air, it was no surprise that she couldn’t see it. At least there was nothing in their way this time, to her great relief. She picked out no further columns of grounded or airborne Cloven excepting the odd and easily avoided flyer, and there were no noises behind them that indicated their first summoning site had been spotted and attacked. Just hold on, Marco… she mentally called to him, starting to feel winded from all the taxing low-altitude flight; she estimated they’d already traveled at least thirty leagues in the air due to their circuitous route. Hold on, all of you! We’ll be there soon, and then we’ll summon you there to join us! I just hope nobody was killed in the last attack, or else the Cloven might— Her eyes going wide, she flared her wings to come to an abrupt halt in the air. Her sudden stop caused Fortrakt to nearly collide with her from behind, forcing him to swerve around her. “Centurion?” he called to her, panting softly as he turned to face her in a hover. “What’s wrong?” She didn’t answer right away, her mind desperately trying to refute the dire warning her own logic and instincts had just given her. But she was ultimately unable to, left with a single, terrible truth.  “We can’t go to Yoke or anywhere near it,” she said softly, her beak turning dry again. “If we do, we’re dead.” “What?” Fortrakt looked at her in surprise, the glint of his green eyes barely visible against his darker features. “What do you mean? How do you know that?” “Because the Cloven know exactly where we’re going.” Her blood ran cold at the terrifying certainty of it. “Think about it, cub—they just attacked Bale again, and with a force that large going in, what are the odds that nobody was killed in those few minutes?” She unconsciously used the human word.  “Zero. And after we pulled them here, they would have no chance to dispose of the dead properly, and I’m guessing that the Ibexian summoning magic doesn’t work if you’re already a corpse.” Fortrakt picked it up from there, his jaw falling open as he saw what she was getting at. “Which means all the Cloven would have to do is possess a fresh corpse with a parasite to find out what we’re doing and where we’re going,” he followed the logic chain to its inevitable and quite deadly conclusion. “You’re right, Gilda. We don’t dare go there now. They’ll either be waiting for us or hit us within minutes after arrival, giving us no chance to try to reach Aricia. And worse, they’ll be watching all its western approaches now.” “Exactly. If it was me, I’d let us arrive and activate the summon spell, then strike and slaughter everyone right when it finished, before they could defend themselves,” she said grimly, descending to ground. “Yoke is now a deathtrap.” “Then where do we go?” he asked her, his dark-hued feathers drooping as he landed beside her, taking the opportunity to catch his breath again. “Do you have a map? I don’t know this region.” “I do a little from a previous rotation.” As she pulled her map of the area free, which she’d found on the desk of the Steadholt Master’s rather messy office, Gilda frantically searched her memory, trying to recall what was in the immediate area. Once she unrolled it and scanned it, her eyes quickly locked on to a smaller lake and hilly area with forest she had been to a couple times before. “That’s it. We’ll go to Lake Languid instead.” She tapped a point on the southeast edge of the map with a talon. “Lake who?” Fortrakt asked in a confused air. “I’ve never heard of it. Is it another steadholt?” “No,” she replied, rolling the map back up and stowing it. “It’s not a farming village, but a small, out-of-the way lakeshore resort about twelve or so leagues southeast of here. I went there on leave a few times, so I know it’s mostly only used by local families for cheap relaxation. It’s located in a secluded but scenic area, used as a retreat and enjoyment area for griffon and Caleponian families alike. It has a beach and other play areas for cubs, plus wooded hills and hunting grounds for the adults.” “Sounds nice, but… why would that be safe?” He gave her an askance look. It was a valid question, but one she had an answer to. “Because it’s not strategically important. It isn’t located on a major roadway or has any farms they’d want to burn. It’s also not near any military bases or cities. And since there aren’t many visitors there at any one time, it wouldn’t be a big source of new hosts, either,” she outlined, seeing the understanding dawn on Fortrakt’s face. “So in other words, it’s of no real interest to the Cloven. If they did anything with it, it would be to sweep it once and then forget about it,” he said, leaving Gilda fervently hoping he was right and that their reasoning was sound.  “Exactly. They’d hit it once but then ignore it because it’s not otherwise valuable to them or us. Until now, that is.” Gilda set her beak. Fortrakt considered that, then nodded slowly. “I get it. We could hold up there and they’d never imagine that’s where we were. But if it’s located south of here, it’s further away from Aricia,” he had to point out. “Just twelve or so leagues by air. Still close enough for one of us to dash the remaining distance and get their help. And if the Cloven are watching the western approaches like you said, then they’ll be looking in the wrong direction if we come in from the south,” she decided, stowing the map in its case again. “And before you volunteer to do it, first things first—we need to get our friends to safety. So on my wing, cub! Stay well behind me, and if I fall, do not stop for anything except to stab my skull,” she reminded him, to which he grimaced and glanced away. “By your command,” he said wanly. He stared at her almost longingly for a moment, looking like he wanted to say something else to her, but shook his head and turned his gaze downwards instead. She didn’t know what he was thinking, or where the sudden and very unlikely image of having her body groped by his talons came from. But even as she cursed the cider anew for once more trying to bend her thoughts to sensual ends at a very bad time, she guessed he was trying to say goodbye to her, just in case. “Whatever happens, it’s been an honor, cub,” she told him, putting a set of talons on his chest. “You’re a good griffon, Fortrakt Gletscher. I’m proud to have been your partner, even if you’re a total damned dweeb at times.” She decided then if they were going to die, then their final talk wouldn’t be complete without their usual exchange of insults. He chuckled once, then grinned. “The honor was mine, Grizelda Behertz. It’s been good to know you as well, even if you are just an old, grumpy, and past-your-prime crow,” he retorted, to which she gave him a mock cuff, which quickly turned into a forearm clasp, and then a heartfelt hug. “If we get out of this, you’ll pay for that, cub,” she promised him with mock sternness, then pushed back from him enough to poke a talon into his chest. “And by my order, you will tell me what happened the night of the cider.” She could just see him blush as he nodded, even taking on a sly grin. “Promise. Think I want to miss the look on your face when you learn? By the Ancestors, I’ll live just for that!” He teased back with a wink. “Now come on, Gilda. Before we can talk about sex, we have to go save our friends…” Another twenty minutes and nine leagues later, they arrived in the air over the wooded resort to find it deserted but unburned. Several stealthed passes over the area showed nothing and nighttime animal sounds were heard as well, telling Gilda that no Cloven were currently near. “Wow. You were right, Centurion. This place is perfect…” Fortrakt granted as he looked around. “It’s isolated and defensible. And there’s plenty of places to hide.” “See? Sometimes this grumpy old crow does know what she’s talking about,” she replied with a mild tease, to which Fortrakt gave her a grin, then pulled his crossbow. “We’re not done yet, though. We still need to scout the buildings. We can hide, but so can the Cloven,” he told her. “Right.” Gilda grimaced at the reminder, reaching for her own crossbow. She wanted to use the second summoning gem immediately, but what Fortrakt said was true—they first had to make certain that they weren’t walking into an ambush. They hadn’t heard any fresh sounds of battle from the direction they had come, to her great relief, but she knew full well that it was only a matter of time before the Cloven found their friends. If I was a Cloven Overlord, I’d be recalling every flyer I had to scour the countryside and nearby towns for them, she thought, hoping the griffon and Ibexian mages present would be able to keep them hidden from prying eyes. Or maybe they’ll wait to start the search until they realize we’re not showing up at Yoke…? She didn’t know if that was wishful thinking. What she did know was that the only way to spare her human and griffon friends their fate was to summon them again, but before they could do that, they had to clear the buildings. They’d had classes on room and corridor-clearing tactics at the Gauntlet, reinforced by the occasional drill. But we also had a full decade or turma with us then, and we’re just two Auxilia… she reminded herself, then mentally cuffed herself in turn for not immediately seeing an obvious solution. She grabbed Fortrakt before he could descend to the ground. “On second thought, no. Stay right where you are—we’re not going in there by ourselves, even stealthed,” she decided. “What? But—” “Don’t argue, Fortrakt! The two of us aren’t Ravens—we don’t have their repeaters or sword skill, and we’d need both to clear even small buildings by ourselves. There’s no way we could do so safely with just steel claws and a single-shot crossbow. We’ll need our full force to do it properly, so we’ll summon them to a point safely away from the main camp and then march to it.” “Oh. Okay,” he instantly relented. “That makes sense. If not here, where’s the summoning site,  then?” “We’ll use my old campground about a league away,” she decided, flaring her wings to take flight again. “It’s isolated and concealed, which is why I stayed there in the first place—it kept me from running into random dweebs when I just wanted to be alone. Now follow me…” Finding her old campsite quickly across a large stream and halfway up a nearby hill—it was almost the same as she remembered it, at the end of a narrow path beside a large tree and firepit that appeared to have been recently used, judging by the remains of a torn-open tent and half-eaten flying boar that was already starting to attract flies—they confirmed it was deserted along with the rest of the area. Guess I was right about the Cloven coming through once and then forgetting about this place! She took at least some small satisfaction in the thought as Fortrakt planted his gem in the center of the small clearing and activated it, quickly stepping back as the orange glow lit up the surrounding woods. She grimaced at that again, but as there were plenty of trees around and they’d seen not so much as a single flyer present, she judged it safe to do so. The gem began to glow brightly as the dome of magical energy formed again, encompassing the clearing and then some. This time, they stayed put outside its effect area as they waited for it to finish; as it turned translucent, a series of forms could be seen inside it in various poses. They remained frozen in their individual stances as the summoning process completed, leaving Gilda watching impatiently as the summoning circle finally evaporated into wisps from the center outwards until there was nothing left of it, leaving only its living cargo behind. There was a series of startled sounds and oofs from the humans as several of them were dropped from a short height to the ground. They appeared to have been lying at a slight upwards angle with their guns all pointed outwards, which she took to mean that they’d formed a perimeter at the edge of the former pond. “Hold your fire!” She heard Imlay’s harsh and harried voice as masked human eyes with a faint green outline looked around; her guts clenched when several rifles focused on her and Fortrakt. “Centurion?” The Corporal then called out. “Right here,” she replied instantly, stepping forward to be bathed in blacklights along with Fortrakt. “They’re clean,” a very tense-sounding Guerrerro spoke. “They have normal magical signatures.” “We’ll see. Sunset!” The challenge word was spoken by Imlay. “Shimmer,” Gilda replied instantly, causing the rifles to be lowered. “And we’re very happy to see you.” “Us too. But where are we?” Marco’s shaky voice was heard. “This doesn’t look like a village!” “It’s not,” Gilda relaxed in relief to hear him as Imlay began ordering his Marines to secure their new perimeter. “I realized halfway there that if anybody was killed and corrupted, the Cloven would know where we were going and be ready for us. So we diverted to this place instead. Welcome to Lake Languid,” she told them. “An isolated camp perfect for a two-day leave. Or a temporary refuge from an all-consuming invasion.” “A wise choice,” she heard Giraldi’s voice next, then saw his form approaching her out of the darkness; her night vision and goggles revealing his features nicely. “Centurion. Beg to report.” “Proceed,” she invited, immensely relieved to see him as well as he saluted her and she returned the respect. She could just make out a series of humans and griffons lying in the center of the summoning circle behind him along with the Ibex and civilians; a faint cry of a cub was heard before it was hurriedly shushed. “To make a long story short, we are very lucky to be alive. They hit us hard a half an hour after you left with a millennium-sized force that included two adult dragons, who did not attempt to kill us directly but instead destroy our cover and suffocate us with smoke. It is with great relief that I may report that the Marines killed them, using what I can only describe as giant enchanted arrows that rose into the sky on pillars of flame and somehow followed their flight, converging on them in midair to blow open their heads and chests.” “They’re called stinger missiles,” Imlay explained. “They seek heat, which makes them ideal for dealing with dragons. We’re just damn lucky we had enough time to ready them—the Ravens saved us with an early warning again. But after expending four to bring down the dragons, we’ve only got another four of them left, and that alone wasn’t enough to defeat the attack.” “As the Corporal says, the attack continued even after the dragons were slain. Using living ramps, they flooded over the wall and rushed us from all sides, trying to storm the building by ground and air,” Giraldi continued.  “They weren’t trying to be clever this time, just crush us with sheer numbers. And they very nearly succeeded. They had taken almost the entire Hall and we were holed up in the cellar, on the verge of being overrun by them smashing through the ceiling when you used the first summoning crystal. It pulled us to that initial place you sent us, but not before we took additional casualties. Casualties which unfortunately included—" “Oh no! Chris! Tara!” Fortrakt called out in shock as he saw their bloodied and broken forms in the center of the ring. Tara had her arms around two Marines, her splinted left leg visibly broken, hanging awkwardly below the knee. Despite that and her obvious pain, she was still armed, one hand holding her pistol and the other clutching a green-stained griffon blade. But she was still doing better than Chris, who was lying on his stomach with a line of flyer-launched spikes crossing his body. They hadn’t penetrated his chest armor, but his lower torso hadn’t been so protected. “By the Ancestors! I’m so sorry! Are you okay, Chris? What happened?” Fortrakt asked as he ran up to them, stopping only at a halting motion from Chief Jacobs. “Don’t touch him, Decurion,” he warned. “And don’t try to remove the spikes. They’re plugging holes in his body and their heat already cauterized his wounds around them.” Gilda didn’t know what that meant, but Fortrakt obeyed as he at least accepted a one-armed hug from Tara. “So what happened?” she asked Imlay, trying not to wince as she stared at Chris’s impaled body. “Like the Optio said, they nearly got us with the last attack. We had barricaded ourselves in the Main Hall, trying to defend the doors and windows, but we had to abandon the big room when they broke through the walls. I ordered a withdrawal, but McLain here didn’t right away,” he said in some rebuke.  “He ignored all the fired spikes and stood his ground at the edge of the stage to keep picking off soldier forms. After he got his last one, he ran back only to get hit by a surprise strike from above when flyers burst through the ceiling skylight and stitched him with those spikes,” Imlay explained solemnly.  “I’d say he disobeyed orders, but he did a lot of damage, too. For fifteen kills, you more than earned this, buddy.” He passed Chris his unloaded wood-wrapped rifle. “And for the record, when we get back I’m putting you in for a Purple Heart and the Bronze Star.” “Thanks, Corporal. But I can’t feel my legs,” Chris said, holding his weapon tightly against his side as he lay on his stomach. “I think they got my spine.” “It’s okay. Our healers will fix you! I promise!” Fortrakt said frantically, grasping Chris’s hand in his talons. “They can?” a worried but still-mobile Marco asked; Gilda could hear the tremor in his voice. “Because ours can’t heal that kind of injury.” “Ours can… if we can get him to fully-powered healers quickly,” Gilda answered, then shook her head, standing over Chris to lay a set of talons on his head. “Crows take it… for the record, you’re every bit as brave and braindead as Marco, Chris. What in the name of both realms were you thinking, staying behind like that?” “That I had another Cloven in my sights…” Chris smiled despite his severely wounded state. “What can I say? I just wanted one more kill so I could keep up with Henderson’s tally.”  “This isn’t a competition, Chris,” Gilda heard the female Marine’s concerned voice next from the other side of the clearing. “But for the record, I have twenty-two. You’ve got the makings of an excellent sniper, so as soon as you’re better, I’m training you.” “Thanks, Lance Corporal. Still, I guess Goldberg was right. Marco is a bad influence on us. You okay, Tara?” Chris’s voice seemed strangely unpained and serene. “Me? I’m peachy,” she said through gritted teeth as she was helped to sit on a stump, still clutching her weapons; Gilda could just see the sheen of sweat on her form as she struggled to remain upright, leaning heavily on her shotgun. “Got a useless limb, though. Should really have known better than to charge a corrupted griffon. But my ammo was out and I didn’t have time to reload. So I hacked its fucking head off with a borrowed blade. And I’ll be keeping it, if you don’t mind.” “It’s yours. But are you sure you don’t want morphine, Miss Fields?” Chief Jacobs asked her in some concern. “I already gave a dose to Mister McLain. I promise that it’ll end the pain instantly.” “He’s not lying…” Chris said somewhat dreamily, still staring off to the side with his head on a makeshift pillow of Tara’s backpack. “I haven’t felt this relaxed in forever…” “It’ll also mean I’ll be too dopey to shoot straight. So no thank you,” Tara told him tersely. “If you give me that, I’m out of the fight. And fuck that shit,” she proclaimed loudly, trying to stand on her splinted leg. “As long as I’m alive and have a good arm, I’m fighting.” “Wow. Good-looking and great in a firefight? Think I’m ready to marry her,” one of the Marines said under his breath, earning a sharp glare from Gilda and Fortrakt. “Appreciate the thought, boys. But I’m already spoken for.” Tara managed a wink at Gilda, who smiled back, suddenly wondering if she was as much in love with the human female as she was Marco. “She protected the cubs and their mothers,” an amused but appreciative Giraldi said in Aeric as the two mothers approached Gilda next, their cubs huddled close against them. “Bought enough time for them to be brought below before her leg was struck.” “He speaks true, Centurion. I admit I was distrustful of these strange apes, but… they are as powerful as they are brave. Their weapons are incredible and their honor is unquestioned,” the snow-leopard spotted eagless told her, bearing her throat hard at them, and then to Gilda herself. “As is yours for saving us all.” Gilda bared her throat back. “I appreciate it, Vira Amator. But we’re still not out of this, so don’t thank me until we’re safe. In the meantime, keep your cubs close and don’t let them wander off. We’re going to be moving again soon,” she warned, to which the middle-aged mother nodded and spoke softly to her pair of younglings in Aeric.  “Unfortunately, not all of us were saved,” Giraldi corrected sadly as he reached down to ruffle the headfeathers of one of the cubs; Gilda instantly noted that they seemed at ease around him even if they still looked at her other soldiers and the humans somewhat balefully.  “I regret to report nine additional casualties, including three wounded Marines and two dead among the flyers. Gladio Falat and Spear Alado were slain trying to stave off an incursion through the skylight. Worse, we were unable to retrieve their bodies or destroy their minds before we had to retreat into the depths of the Main Hall. So by the Ancestors, you were right to change destinations. We would almost certainly be dead if you had not.” “Thank you.” Despite the compliment, Gilda went downcast, realizing she’d now suffered a total of twenty-two dead from her original force of forty-four griffons. Worse, the Marines were down nearly an entire fire team, which made what she needed from them far more difficult. “Unfortunately, we’re not done yet. I fully expect the Cloven to start searching for us far and wide once they figure out we’re not showing up at Yoke. If we stay outside, we’ll be spotted by flyers, especially as daylight approaches. So we need to find cover,” she told them. “What we need is to get word to Aricia,” Fortrakt reminded her from where he still stood over Chris, turning to face her and standing to attention as he spoke. “I volunteer again to make the journey, Centurion.” She stared at him, touched anew at his determination to risk himself for the sake of all. “Fine, but stop for nothing, cub. Not even if you see us under attack behind you. Remember to fly in from the south to get around any Cloven watching the western approaches. Get to Aricia and tell them where we are. And if they hesitate, tell them that if they don’t rescue us quickly, all will perish and the next attack on the city will involve human weapons, whose power dwarfs our own.” “By your command,” he said obediently, saluting and baring his throat at her before his eyes narrowed in what she took to be sudden realization. “Wait—so you’re not coming with me, then…?” She closed her eyes briefly before opening them again. “No. There’s nowhere left for us to flee, so I refuse to spare myself the danger. From here on out, I’ll stay and command the defense. Now go, Decurion,” she ordered him, passing him her nightshade gem. “Double up on the stealth spell so you can extend the time you remain shrouded. Just watch out for mages emitting that accursed purple light. Avoid contact and get to Aricia quickly.” He accepted the gem, squeezing his eyes shut as he added it around his neck. “May the Ancestors guide me,” he uttered the ritual prayer before saluting one final time. Once it was returned, he pulled down his goggles, stealthed himself and took flight again, disappearing with a whisper of wings into the air above the small clearing. “Centurion. Orders?” Giraldi asked after he had departed. “With respect, dawn is just an hour away, and to remain in the open is to be observable from the air, even with a forest canopy. As such, I do not recommend staying here.” “Nor do I. The main camp is located less than a league away. We need to get there and clear the buildings if we’re to use them. And that’s your job, Corporal.” She turned to Imlay again. “We’ll cover you with our remaining flyers, but you need to secure the stores and cabins. I don’t expect you’ll find anything, given the Cloven seemed to have already combed through this area. But you never know.” “Wilco, sir,” he replied, then started barking orders, earning groans from the exhausted Marines as they realized they couldn’t rest yet. “Centurion.” She next heard Ebon Umbreon approach; she had barely registered his presence before she caught the stench of burnt fur and feathers. “Do you want us to scout ahead? Myself and the Second Scimitar remain unwounded and ready for further action.” “That’s not true, Shadow Decurion,” Giraldi corrected with a worried air. “You took a hit to the ribs and were nearly incinerated by dragonfire out there.” He got close enough that Gilda could see the Raven tiercel’s scorched features, causing her to grimace; she could tell his entire face was burned except for what had been covered by his flight goggles, which had saved his vision. “It’s just a few flashburns from a peripheral burst of flame, and my ribs are only bruised, not broken. I can still see, fly, and fight. On my honor, I am fit for duty, Centurion.” He stood to attention before her. “I see.” Gilda wasn’t entirely sure she believed him given he seemed slightly unsteady and she could see patches of bare and burnt skin in places on his head. Of greater concern was his wings, as the ends of his flight feathers were singed or even seared off in places, potentially limiting or even crippling him in the air. But even injured, he was still the most skilled and capable scout she had, so she reached her decision quickly. “Very well. You and Serpens Oculus will reconnoiter the area. Inspect the buildings and the path there, and then report back. But by my order, if you spot Cloven or signs of them, do not attempt to engage or clear them yourselves,” she warned, then held up a wing to forestall his protest. “No argument, Shadow Decurion—you’re already down one Raven and with those wounds, you’re clearly not at your best. So if the camp needs clearing, we’ll use the Marines.” “By your command,” he acknowledged with a salute before he and the Second Scimitar took flight, stealthing themselves before disappearing down the forest trail. She guessed he either had a spare gem, or he had borrowed the one from the wounded Raven eagless, who was being treated by Nydia and the Ibex. The latter turned and nodded to her briefly; she was surprised to see them assisting in the makeshift infirmary, offering what healing help their still-meager magic could. Wow. Griffons and Ibex working together? She marveled at the sight, remembering that their nations had been on the verge of war just two weeks earlier. The Cloven invasion may actually accomplish the impossible by making us allies! “Sir? How are we going to get the wounded to the camp?” Imlay then asked her. “Two of my injured Marines are mobile, but the third along with our civilians and the wounded griffons are not.” “I think we can carry or fly them at least that far,” Gilda decided, turning back to Giraldi. “I’m sorry to use you two as beasts of burden again, but since earth griffons can carry the heaviest loads, you and Spear Jumentum will have that responsibility, Optio. You can grab a couple stronger sky griffons to assist you. They can carry the lighter or less injured, but nocreature is to be left behind! I don’t want us to be split up out here, so we move everyone at once.” “By your command.” He thumped his chest hard as the remaining Marines formed up and crouched behind cover with their rifles pointed outwards, awaiting word to move out. “Uh… what about me?” She heard Raleigh’s slightly timid voice, causing her beak to clench. “Can someone carry me?” Trying to hide her annoyance, she looked him over in the darkness but didn’t see any fresh injuries, though the remains of his human business attire were now soaked through with sweat. “Are you wounded, Mister Raleigh?” she asked him directly. “Well, I broke my leg earlier…” he said tentatively, to which Gilda nearly swallowed her tongue to keep herself from insulting him.  She had to stifle a smile when Marco did it for her. “It’s already healed, you fat fuck,” he answered irritibly from where he stood protectively beside his friends, earning a glare from the former and grins from the latter. “Nydia fixed it, remember? So you can walk there with the rest.” “I’m sorry, Mister Raleigh, but the wounded have priority.” Gilda couldn’t help but wonder how he’d gotten his post when, by griffon standards, he had absolutely no fitness for it. “I will not spare a soldier for you. And I expect you to help out where you can. So I suggest you carry supplies and aid the injured.” “But… I’m not a doctor…” he protested, but Imlay spoke up before Gilda could snap at him. “With respect, sir, we’re all in this together. As the Centurion says, the best thing you can do is help the wounded. So do whatever Chief Jacobs or Decanus Nydia directs,” the Marine Corporal said far more diplomatically, to some derisive noises from Marco and Tara.  Defeated, the Ambassador’s aide went off again to sit on a stone. With him dealt with, there was nothing left to do but wait for the Ravens to return, so Gilda took the chance to finally have her reunion with Marco, hugging him tightly and never wanting to let him go. “When we saw that red flare go up from the Ravens and later when the Cloven were breaking through the ceiling of the cellar, I thought we were dead, Gilda,” he confided, clutching her and shaking, his rifle strapped to his back. “You summoned us in the nick of time. You saved us all.” “And I always will,” she promised. “I’m so sorry for Chris and Tara. I swear our healers can fix them.” He smiled sadly. “I’m sure they can, but the Cloven are still after us and there’s no guarantee we’ll make it. So don’t make promises you can’t keep, girlfriend,” he reminded her. “And for the record, I’m not leaving your side again. If we die, we die together.” He hefted his rifle meaningfully. She made a face as she found herself both exasperated and enamored with him anew. “Then you’re not only a sentimental dweeb right out of those damned pony romance flicks I used to hate watching, but you’re a crow-damned fool, Marco Lakan,” she told him, but couldn’t help herself as she reared up to kiss him. “And I love you for it.” “Love you too, Gilds,” he answered as Imlay stood beside them slightly awkwardly. “Even if you are the kind of girl my mother once warned me about.” “Oh, really?” She smirked. “And what kind of ‘girl’ is that?” “Oh, you know… pretty and smart but has a hot temper and always has to be right?” he suggested slyly with a wink. Despite his teasing tone, her feathers ruffled and tail lashed. “I do not have a hot temper and always have to be…” She trailed off at the grin he was giving her, to which she blushed, then trilled and cuffed him lightly. “By my Ancestors, I promise you’ll pay for that later.” “I’d better,” he said quietly as the Marines around them snickered; even Imlay seemed to be stifling a smile. “Because I still want those two days with you in Catlais!” Ten minutes later, the Ravens reappeared after three squelches were heard over the human radio—their signal that they were returning.  Without even being told, they came back with their stealth spells deactivated to make sure the dim marine blacklights didn’t cause them to brightly fluoresce and perhaps attract attention from overhead flyers, though their wings still glowed noticeably under its light. “Centurion. Beg to report.” He landed slightly awkwardly before he passed through the Marine cordon and saluted her, causing the mute Raven eagless to look at him in worry and Gilda to note his slightly trembling legs. “We completed our reconnaissance of the camp. And we may have a problem.” “A problem?” she echoed with a worried glance at Giraldi and Imlay. “The Cloven are there?” “No, sir—at least, not that we can find,” he said, his voice raspy. “The animals are active, so it would seem our enemies are not present even though it’s obvious they came through earlier. Just as we saw at Bale, there are signs of struggle with the occasional broken window and bloodstains present, but no bodies.” She nodded in relief, though she didn’t like how he sounded, wondering again if he was more wounded than he was letting on. “Good. That hopefully means that since the Cloven have already swept through here once, they won’t be back any time soon. So if they’re not here, what’s the problem?” He hesitated, glancing at his partner. “We found signs of recent visitors, including what appears to be scavenging of food from trash piles and healer supplies from storage areas. They tried to cover their tracks, but given their crude efforts, it’s clear that they were made by civilians, not soldiers.” As he spoke, the mute female tossed the remains of what looked to Gilda like a makeshift but recently bloodied bandage on the ground before her, consisting of what she guessed was a scrap of scarf.  “From its scent, the blood on it belongs to a Caleponian foal. Given we found this among both hoof and talon marks on the floor of a forced-open cellar, I believe it very likely that there are both pony and griffon survivors present here, hiding in the nearby woods…”