accope

  Sally went to the ruin and carried another sb, forced it into the ground next to the Grandie one. Facilitated by the mechanical precision of her metal arm, Sally began inscribing her own memorial.

  And with it, a promise.

  Vil Palters

  Year 0 to 216

  From the Graidle to this grave

  Let the nd bear the name Palters

  While the Ancestors remind us of their deeds

  30. An Unfamiliar Junior – September 7, Year 216

  Although Sally hadn’t seen every river there was to see in the Circuits, she was sure the Gesker was the dullest, most disappointing of them all. It wasn’t famed for its width – it took but a dozen or so steps to the other side – nor its depths – the water would reach up to her ankles at most.

  It wasn’t famed for anything, really. Barely known outside of the Vils, and even then only the western ones. The sole thing it was known for was how clear it ran, how rapid it flowed down the mountains and how violent a reaction it had when its water met that of the Graidle’s.

  The river y in the center of a wide and barren valley, the sparse green almost entirely concentrated around its banks. It had no fish, no lizards, no demons, insects or any other kind of living thing in its waters. Even the pnts that lingered on its edge avoided going into the water itself, preferring the earth surrounding it, moistened as it was by the river. No aquatic pnts could be seen, not even algae covering some of the rger rocks in its flow nor any small pnts burrowing into its rock-and-mud bed.

  That wasn’t to mean it was completely without danger. The water, like all ever-flowing rivers in the Circuits, was still poison to drink, though thankfully not to the touch. Strangely enough, this deadly quality didn’t extend to animals or demons. Meaning that, while it held no wildlife of its own within its waters, it was a hotbed for anything seeking a quick drink in the ever-present heat of the Grand Circuit.

  Sally could see some of those creatures further up north and down south from where she stood. A small herd of springboks were busy drinking upstream from her, the rgest of the group looking right at her, ready to warn the others if Sally so much as took a step towards them. Downstream, a group of brown-colored birds were bathing in its clear water. The distance alone made them difficult to see, with the water they seemed to love to throw skyward only adding to that difficulty, the mist it created distorting the sunlight and creating an obscuring gre.

  It felt odd that, in her mind at least, the Gesker was now the one to form a border between the Grand Central Union and the Vil nds rather than the much more prominent Graidle. Worse, it was much more real than the previous, with a formalized deal and all. The river was too boring, too safe and too easy to cross to really function as a barrier between the two, and yet there it was.

  Of course, this all depended on what the retion between the Zjevik-Ong Vil and the Grandies had turned into since the days and months after the Erling incursion. It hadn’t slipped her mind that one of the officers that had helped her during her visit to Station Guha had been a Zjevik-Ong, one still bearing that name no less. No doubt the people that assigned him there had done so for a purpose, but what was that purpose? Simply more nds, more resources? The Grandies were always looking for more, but they usually bought and brought it through trade. So why move in the sparsely poputed and the, to them, untamed mountains of the Vils?

  Thus, her next goal: visit the Vil Zjevik-Ong. If there was one way to measure the Grandie penetration into the Vils itself, it would be the Zjevik-Ong, and she had at least one acquaintance beside the Wardens to answer her questions.

  Furthermore, besides being the now-closest Vil to the western nation, it also never had that great a retion with it in the past. It used to be that the Palters and Guha absorbed most of the Union’s attention, and even then, mostly in the form of small-time traders, explorers or the rare adventurer foolishly chasing thrills. Those rarely reached the Zjevik-Ong, and were never the preferred guest. They, much like the rest of the Vils, were much more closely tied to the Anteer cities to their south than any of the others moving about the Circuits.

  So, the retion between the Union and the Zjevik-Ong had been all but a bnk ste by the time the temporary alliance between the Wardens, Vils, Gadeon, Anteeri and the Grandies had formed. As such, it would make a good test case to see the Grandie’s intentions towards the Vils, and the intensity with which it pursued it and, of course, how the Vil and its Wardens responded to something like that.

  And if nothing had changed at all? Well, that was a sign all on its own.

  Sally crouched down by the river, untying her shoes and pulling them and her socks off her feet. Her boots were high enough for her to have been able to wade through its shallow waters, but why should she? It wasn’t like her feet would stay wet for long once she stepped out of the water. A few minutes of drying them out in the sun and they would be as good as new, much quicker than her boots and socks would. So, with bare feet, in she went.

  The first step into the river sent a shiver through her legs and up her spine. Apparently, the river was a cold one, colder than the Redwater, the Graidle and Lake Majestic. Sally had never given it much thought before, but the Gesker might be the coldest river in the Circuits, barring the meltwater ones. Hell, they might be even colder than those. It wasn’t like she’d stepped into any meltwater rivers since she’d been revived, and wouldn’t be doing so for the rest of the year; it was September, they’d all but run their course by now. It certainly felt colder, but how reliable was that memory? Anyway, it was another boring quality to an already boring river.

  Fifteen steps ter and she was on the other side. A wholly unimpressive experience, despite the newfound ‘knowledge’ – if one could even call such a small fact by such a grand term. She stepped past the river’s ‘shore’ – another term too grand for the small stretch of mud between the river and the green on its banks – and through its grass and bushes. She crouched down in the sand, grabbed a handful of it and used it to rub off most of the mud from her feet before lying down on the sunbaked earth, hands under her head. She closed her eyes and merely enjoyed the sun for a moment.

  That, too, was a rare thing for her, or for anyone to do: taking a moment to enjoy the sun. It was a weird upside to the blessings she’d gained, a strange side effect she’d never really thought about. Her blessings allowed her to move so quickly that she was certain that, as long as she moved alone, she’d never be in a hurry to get anywhere. Taking yesterday’s pace as a guideline, she could move from Gadeon to Keringa in two days! That was one-hundred-sixty miles in two days, with hours to spare no less! Really, I’m the envy of all runners.

  Second, who in their right mind would describe the Circuits’ sun and heat as enjoyable? Perhaps in the cities, shaded under a patio with infinite access to refreshing drinks, people could enjoy themselves for some time, but even with all that, the heat would become too much by the time noon came around. Not that it was noon right now – it was still pretty early in the morning – but she also wasn’t in the shade nor enjoying a cold drink, so that more than cancelled it out.

  Add to that that everyone outside was, rightfully, paranoid about their surroundings and would never close her eyes, let alone take time off when they could better be spend travelling, and-

  Well, Sally felt properly blessed for once.

  X

  She id there for about an hour, enjoying the warmth, the sun and the occasional critter passing her by – the troupe of degus in particur were very cute, the little mice-like creatures hopping by a couple of yards away from her to drink from the river. She’d had to refrain from trying to pet them; no way she could catch the skittish creatures, and scaring was the opposite of what she wanted.

  Still, whether by nature or ingrained during Warden training, Sally eventually grew restless and continued on her way. It was a ten-mile journey from where she’d rested to the Zjevik-Ong’s Vil, so she expected to arrive two hours before noon or so, or around noon if she took it slow, and she felt no need to hurry up.

  About nine miles into the journey, she was interrupted by something strange yet familiar: a bird call, high pitched and loud, echoing throughout the mountains and alerting everything in it.

  For those unfamiliar with the mountains north of the Circuits, they would’ve become wary for a moment at the noise before continuing on after failing to spot any threat. But the reality was, bird sounds were rare in this pce, especially one’s as loud and far-carrying as this one was. The only ones that did were sheepstealers – too rge, strong and visible to care much about being spotted by their voice – and the shykes, who were too numerous and vicious to care about who heard them. Hell, those demons might prefer it if their prey heard it and went off running. Made it much easier to find and chase them if they left dust clouds in their hurry.

  Regardless, none of those that cared to make a noise sounded like this, nor any other bird that made these mountains their home. Which made her next steps much easier.

  She put her thumb and index finger to her lips and mimicked the whistle, responding to the call. One, two or even three short bursts meant nothing. Or rather, it indicated to the signaler that the responder did not know how to respond properly. One short and one long would be the response for an approved outsider, while two short and one long would be for a person from a vil.

  Sally whistled thrice in short bursts, before holding the fourth and final one for longer. It was the call of one Warden responding to another.

  Sally sat down on the ground, waiting for the other to approach her. No doubt it would take a while, seeing as the other Warden was likely somewhere up on a mountain, so might as well make herself comfortable. Besides, the Zjevik-Ong Warden would undoubtedly be wary of a Warden arriving from the west, so why not make herself look as harmless as possible.

  About a quarter of an hour ter, the Zjevik-Ong Warden became visible, descending down the mountain northeast of her.

  The Warden approaching her was likely the junior, which didn’t come as much of a surprise to Sally. The junior Warden was often the one to make the approach during patrols with the older providing overwatch. That is, if they were even present at all. Considering the date, it could be that the senior had left for the meet if – if they were pnning to attend, at least – leaving the junior Warden to patrol the frontiers alone in their absence.

  The junior Warden approaching her was sadly unfamiliar to Sally. Likely, either Mikae, the senior Warden of the Zjevik-Ong prior to the Erling situation, or Zoren, the junior, had died during the event. Though it could also be that Mikae repced a Communal Warden and Zoren moved up to senior, but Sally thought it more likely one of them to have fallen. It made sense for the Zjevik-Ong to become the ‘frontline’ of the incursion after the Vils Guha and Palters fell, and the early days before reinforcements arrived would have been rough.

  The woman approached her warily, rifle at the ready though thankfully not aimed. She bore a series of recent-looking scar on her left cheek, trailing down to the colrbone. It was a mark familiar to many a Warden, one Sally herself had only narrowly avoided in her early years: a cw-strike from above. Such an attack was rarely successful in killing a Warden unless done by a group, but demons – especially solitary and flying ones – often struck regardless of their chances. People were just too tempting for the dumb ones to resist.

  Still, it reinforced the opinion that the Warden approaching her was the new junior Warden of the Zjevik-Ong. Doubly so since the closer she got, the younger she looked. Likely somewhere between fourteen years of age at least, and seventeen at most. Sally suspected it was closer to the lower end of the spectrum than the higher one, though the scar made it difficult to tell.

  It was also clear that the other woman didn’t recognize Sally. The junior Warden stopped a couple feet away, posture tense and having closed the st few feet before her stop at a slow and wary pace.

  Since the other Warden was hesitant to begin the conversation, Sally took it upon herself to start. “So, which Warden are you repcing? Mikae or Zoren?”

  Sally saw the junior Warden all but flinch at the question, managing to control herself at the st moment. “Zoren,” she replied matter-of-factly, though not without gritting her teeth and narrowing her eyes. “And you?”

  Sally shot the woman a sad smile, before answering the question. “Nobody but myself, really. If the position still applies to me at all, that is” Sally replied, keeping her tone friendly and arms still. No need to make the other Warden twitchy. “Sally Palters, junior Warden to Niall before- well, you know.”

  The other woman didn’t look convinced, sucking on her teeth as she eyed their surroundings warily. So, Sally continued. “And your name?” She asked.

  The woman looked reluctant to reply, but whether due to social pressure or something else, she eventually did. “Urduja, junior Warden of Zjevik-Ong.”

  “Quickly made junior, then?” Sally asked, which caused Urduja’s eyes to switch from their surroundings to her.

  “I earned it,” she replied with a scowl, though the scar on her left cheek prevented one half of her face from doing so. A sore point, apparently.

  “Never said it wasn’t. Just- it took me two years to be confirmed, and that was considered fast back then,” Sally said, then snorted. “‘Back then’. Listen to me, talking like a greybeard when it wasn’t even that long ago.” While the remark was meant to be lighthearted, her heart twisted strangely at her own comment, for reasons she couldn’t name.

  Urduja seemed unamused, preferring to remain silent. It was clear the woman was unsure of what steps to take next, unconvinced as she was by Sally’s knowledge of both her own alleged situation and the way the Wardens functioned.

  Sally sighed. Clearly, this approach wasn’t working, so she decided to be more straightforward. “Look, I get it. You don’t know me and my story sounds sketchy as all hell, but doing nothing will get us nowhere.”

  Again, Urduja scowled. “So, what? I should just let you go or something?”

  “No, you disarm me and take me to someone that can,” Sally suggested, tone of voice carefully neutral. “If Mikae’s around, she could. We’ve met plenty of times before.”

  Urduja didn’t scowl this time, but Sally’s suggestion only served to increase the woman’s tension further. But Urduja remained silent, the conversation halting once more. Mikae’s not around then, Sally concluded. The ck of her mentor undoubtedly made the young woman – girl, really, should remember that – nervous in such an uncertain situation.

  “Or your medician Paul could, if he’s still around,” Sally said, dropping another hint of her familiarity with the Zjevik-Ongs. “Met him more than once. Hell, he treated me more than once, no doubt he’ll recognize the scars he helped design.” Sally smiled, patting the left side above the waist with her right hand.

  The girl bit her lip, considering, before finally nodding. Sally slowly pulled her weapons from their holsters, holding them up by her fingers. Urduja kept her distance, waiting until Sally was done before moving in.

  When she got close, Urduja took the handgun from Sally’s right before going for the shotgun. For a second, she froze, staring at the weapon with widened eyes and parted lips.

  Or rather, staring at the metallic hand underneath.

  Sally didn’t say anything, even when the Warden looked at her with unspoken questions. Then, the moment broke and the Warden grabbed the shotgun without a word.

  “Come on, then,” Urduja said, “let’s get you to the doctor.”