When he turned back, he saw that the smaller of the two soldiers was more resourceful than he looked, currently using rope from his pack to tie up the guards in a more hidden location. The larger was slapping one, trying to get answers, entirely ineffectively. In the end, only three guards had come with them, and one of them bled so profusely Slaten wasn't sure about his chances.

  Yet truthfully, he didn't care about any of them compared to Celivia. When he attempted to lower her to the ground, she suddenly gripped his shirt. "Not here... need... away..."

  "Stay here while I help Celivia." Slaten gestured to the soldiers and was surprised to see them nod. His orders should mean nothing to them, but maybe supporting their commanding officer counted for something. Or maybe after the Hero annihilated all reason, anyone who offered a simple purpose was leader enough.

  Since Celivia had insisted on getting further away, Slaten guided her deeper, toward the hill. Around one side he discovered a rocky cave and she seemed to stumble toward it, so he helped her inside. It wasn't tall enough to stand in, but she dropped down onto her hands and knees to crawl.

  Then she violently retched blood over the ground. Slaten worried for her, but when he looked closer, he realized that it was something thicker than blood. He hovered nearby, his decisiveness gone, wishing that he could do something to help but uncertain what was even happening. Fortunately, after Celivia coughed up more thick red bile, her hacking ceased. She sat back slowly and wiped her mouth.

  "Thank you, Slaten." Her voice was ragged but clear.

  "What's happening? Were you poisoned?"

  "No, and that's the genius of it." He caught just a glimpse of her sharp smile before her expression became queasy again. "If someone had tried to poison me, I would have noticed, or my body would have rejected it. But instead they've been slipping me something that's technically beneficial... damn, it must have been in the meat, so I wouldn't notice the taste..."

  "I don't understand." Slaten knelt down beside her, trying to put her words together. Celivia drew a shuddering breath and finally met his gaze. Her eyes were brighter than he'd ever seen them.

  "Modern mansthein change into different forms in a clean rebirth process, but that isn't natural. Originally, we went through a longer and messier process." Celivia coughed again, bile covering her hand before she shook it off beside her. "That's what's happening to me now, forced by whatever reagent they fed me. Most mansthein have never even seen it, but I endured one... once."

  "So this isn't harmful? Why would someone cause this... or did they want to eliminate you without killing you?"

  In response, Celivia vomited more bile beside her. Though he knew it wasn't blood, he couldn't help but think that she was dying. Eventually she nodded weakly and managed to speak. "Remove me, or kill me while I'm weak. I'll be helpless for at least a day, and unconscious until I break out."

  "Then what can I do to help?" He opened a hand toward her and she reached out, gripping it tightly despite her slime-covered fingers.

  "The process will continue naturally, but I don't have enough water. I... won't be conscious for long. Keep anyone from killing me. And... don't let the soldiers see me..."

  Though he wanted to ask her more, her focus was obviously fading. Slaten remained with her for a time as if his presence alone could help, but Celivia continued miserably hacking. He thought that it was becoming less painful as she stopped resisting, but it still hurt to see her that way. After checking the mouth of the cave carefully, he stepped downhill to check on the others.

  The mansthein gathered in the small grove like detritus in the wake of the fading light. Of the prisoners, one was near dead, another was unconscious, and only one appeared unharmed. The smaller of Celivia's band paced beside the others, looking out toward Smuggler's Rest. His larger companion sat, slapping his own face as if to wake himself up, but only appearing more stunned.

  Now that he had more presence of mind, Slaten struggled to remember their names from his time with Celivia's band and came up with Fijn and Ragh. If he was Tani, he would have gently used their names to help them focus, but he wasn't confident enough in his memory.

  "What the hell was that?" Ragh asked, staring up at him for only a moment before his eyes rolled in terror.

  "That was the Hero," Slaten said. It was all he could say. "Stay quiet so that he doesn't come after us."

  "What about Celivia?" Fijn asked.

  "She said she needs to be alone, but she needs water."

  Fijn nodded and pulled off his pack, retrieving several filled skins of water. Ragh continued to tremble and slapped himself again, but Slaten's attention was drawn by the conscious prisoner. The mansthein stared at them in numb disbelief. "Why is a human in charge?"

  "Shut up!" Ragh leapt up in a burst of aggression that faded just as suddenly. "Just... just be quiet."

  Though he wanted to take the water, Slaten realized that interrogating the guards might be more important. He knelt down in front of the man and was surprised when he shrank back. "We need to know what you were doing here."

  "Minding our own damn business." The guard looked toward Smuggler's Rest and shuddered. "We were just following orders. They told us we had to guard the women and meet the humans here before going to the mine. Everything was fine, then it all went mad..."

  Ragh turned on him again. "How could you do it? You know what will be done to them, right? How could you just... just..."

  "You think I wanted this?" The guard strained against his bonds, the muscles on his neck standing out. "Dark Lord, some of them are young enough to be my daughter. We were commanded to guard a caravan, and we didn't learn what it was until we arrived. What would you have us do, just leave them to get killed by humans?"

  As they argued, Slaten only watched. In the fighting, he had cut down one of the guards of the wagons. Not as a considered moral decision, but because an opponent stood in front of him. Somewhere deep in his mind, he had assumed they were Celivia's enemies, but the guard was only a tired old man. He didn't know what Celivia would have thought, but he found all his emotion draining away.

  "The women ran off on their own," Fijn began to say, but Ragh interrupted.

  "Shoved me out of the damn wagon!"

  "I don't think we can catch up to them, but can they reach safety on their own?"

  The guard shook his head. "Maybe. I hope. I saw Shooni grab the reins, and despite... despite everything that's happened to her, she's the most resourceful woman I've ever met. I want to believe she could lead the others somewhere safe, but we're in the middle of Portant. The odds... they aren't good."

  "They might be slaughtered by humans, but surely they could go back the way they came?"

  "That's the real problem. The smugglers didn't want so many of us near their outpost, so they insisted the other group stay back. Oh, fuck, did you not know about them?" The guard's eyes widened. "We had the Catai with us, but half our real warriors were back waiting for confirmation that we'd handed the women off safely."

  Though the mansthein asked more questions about their exact location, Slaten barely heard. He looked out from their hills again, wishing he had Tani's eyes so he could see more clearly. It was possible that the rest of the mansthein force would never notice, but he thought that unlikely. Melal might attempt to kill them all, but how would his allies fare?

  Slaten wanted to warn them, yet realized that it could put all the mansthein at risk. After one last glance, he decided that he would need to trust Tani to survive on her own. At the moment, he was the only one who could help Celivia.

  Since the mansthein soldiers seemed to have gathered themselves, he picked up the water skins and returned to the cave. He began running, suddenly afraid of what he might find. Nothing came of his fears, but Celivia lay slumped in a pool of red bile. It covered much of her robes and clung to her, giving him the urge to brush her off, but instead he only knelt down beside her.

  "Celivia? I have water."

  She nodded weakly and pushed herself up on one arm, but needed his help to bring the water skins to her mouth. Though some of it spilled and he started to pull the skin away, she grabbed his wrist and kept it there, insisting that he let her drink all of them. Almost immediately after, she vomited more bile into the pool around her, no trace of water coming up.

  Slaten lingered nearby, again helpless. If he had never picked up his sword again and instead devoted himself to being a healer, could he have helped her? Though his feeble knowledge of the past would be useless, he had to assume that if he had walked that path, he would have applied himself as intensely as he did on the path of the warrior. He'd told himself that he sought to defend others, but he realized that his choices had led him further away in some respects.

  Just as he started to leave, he heard her voice. "Slaten..." When he looked back, he saw her watching him from her position. Her pupils were wider than he'd ever seen them, only a bright crimson ring around the edges of her eye, and he realized that she must be in the grip of the rebirth. Yet she still struggled to focus on him one more time. "Thank you."

  He nodded because he didn't know what else he could do. As Slaten stepped from the mouth of the cave, his hand settled on his sword without hesitation.

  ~ ~ ~

  While everyone else bickered and shuddered and got over their emotional shit, Veron actually got the wagons together. Despite all the chaos, as far as she understood, the plan was still on. That meant they had to actually prepare instead of just standing around and looking gobsmacked. You'd think Tani was new to being around the Hero, given how troubled she acted about all the corpses.

  Fortunately, the smugglers had loaded one of the wagons before getting killed off, which gave her an idea of how to proceed. She'd worried that they'd be buried under piles of the odious feed. But she'd suspected that the wagon had a false bottom on the way, and now confirmed it. Soon enough she discovered that it was possible to crawl into an empty space underneath, though it was a tight fit.

  Getting back out would be a real bitch. Veron decided to stab her way out instead, when the time came.

  They'd need to load some of the other wagons, but in case Melal decided to go off prematurely, she tried to figure out the behemoths. She was no farmer, but as a bandit she knew a lot about how aurochs were hooked up to wagons. It wasn't so different in the north except for the beasts themselves, who stared at her with those dark eyes. No horns, but if they got it into their thick heads to trample her...

  Veron heard a shout from behind her, then a gasp of shock from Laeri. She turned, starting to draw her sword, but didn't see any Deathspawn. Melal was on a war path, but he was walking toward Tani, bellowing.

  "Now I understand! You weren't fighting that Deathspawn traitor, you were fighting with her! Just who do you serve?"

  "Melal, think about this carefully." Tani spoke gently, as if calming a wild animal, but judging from the look on Melal's face, she should have drawn her damn knives. "We need to reach the mine bef-"

  He lunged forward, grabbing her around the jaw. "You stood with me on Mount Tmil! How could you question our destiny? How dare you betray me?"

  It hadn't been how Veron had planned to help, but the girl was in over her head and she had the means. Putting her sword away, Veron instead sidled up beside Melal. Swinging a hip against his, she slid her arm around his shoulders and up the arm that was gripping Tani, easing him back.

  "Easy there, Melal. You need to think this through."

  Once he would have slobbered all over her, but now Melal only turned to stare. Damn, he was far away. But there had always been something of the person inside the Hero, even with Goffoel. She thought she knew Melal well enough to find him.

  "That Deathspawn tried to betray you, but she just keeps coming back. This time she actually fought for you - I saw her kill some of the Deathspawn with my own eyes. Do you think even they get caught up in the Legend, sometimes? I don't know, but it seems to me that she saw something that she liked."

  The Hero stared directly into her eyes, breathing violence, but she saw the light recede in him. She'd expected him to return to himself and put an arm around her waist, yet he only stared. Embers of glory still burned deep within his eyes, smoldering for a time before they burst to life again. But eventually he turned away.

  "So be it." Melal's voice held something of his grand pretension, but it had lost far more. "Celivia was once partially human, before she betrayed us, and maybe there is still something of the human in her. If she truly fights for us... I need to think about this."

  "That's good, Melal." Veron patted him on the shoulder. "We'll get the wagons ready."

  "Do it quickly! The Catai may spread the word or the Deathspawn may find some way to impede our path. Be prepared to leave as soon as I give the command." He marched away, though where exactly he was going in the empty hills was unclear. Maybe he just liked marching places.

  Laeri rushed to Tani and embraced her, relief flooding her face. Tani, however, rubbed her jaw and watched Veron quietly. "I didn't expect that. Have you ever seen a Hero willing to compromise on the Deathspawn?"

  Veron shrugged. "I'm not sure I have, even now."

  "But he remembered Celivia's name and seemed almost willing to consider her an exception. Could we stretch that into something more?"

  "If I was a betting woman, which I am, I wouldn't wager on it. And what we're wagering ain't coin."

  "I hope not." Tani was silent for a while longer, then stopped rubbing her jaw and instead smiled. "Thank you, Veron."

  "Yeah." She'd intended to say more, but why? Veron uncorked her flask and drank as deep as she could.

  ~ ~ ~

  Though Slaten had anticipated caring for Celivia, he had almost no involvement after giving her water. She coughed up more and more red bile, then once when he returned to the cave, there was only a cocoon of it around her. He was alarmed at first, then noticed that her clothes and weapons lay in a messy pile to one side. The bile was opaque, but Celivia must be within, transforming.

  When he touched the cocoon, he found it soft and firm, like flesh. He decided not to touch it further, in case he could interfere with the process in any way, but noted that it hardened over time. Not enough to turn aside a blade, but hopefully she was somewhat safe within.

  As he waited, he cleaned her knives and whip. Her robes were too stained to be salvaged, so he left them where they lay.

  All he could do was divide his attentions between her, the mansthein, and Smuggler's Rest. While he had been distracted, he saw that all the bodies had been removed, but he didn't think any wagons had departed. Unless he had misjudged, that meant that Melal and the others remained there for reasons unknown. Such a short distance away, yet unknown to him.

  Unlike the mansthein, who he'd had ample opportunity to listen to while they waited. One of the guards had died and another had never woken up, but the third spoke freely with Ragh and Fijn. Their lives seemed to have much in common, mostly trying to earn something for themselves while following orders. Aside from speculating about Celivia's illness, which included no correct guesses, most of what they said was of little interest to him. More Futhik practice, but his thoughts remained with Celivia.

  After staring at the cocoon one more time, Slaten left to join them. He had intended to ask questions, but the guard interrupted before he could begin. "Why are you helping us? I thought all humans wanted their Hero to come and kill us."

  "Do all mansthein want the same things?" Slaten sat down in their circle and they made room, or moved away from him. Fijn regarded him skeptically.

  "I understand what you're trying to say, but you have to admit that it only took a single word from him and all those smugglers turned on us. I saw them. They were out for blood."

  "The Hero changes everyone around him. You must have felt it too, a... rage for no reason inside you. A rage that said it had great meaning." Yet even as he spoke, Slaten saw that his words couldn't reach them, even if he could find the right Futhik terms. Years of practice had allowed him to speak freely about the Hero, but they were still overwhelmed by the experience. The guard in particular stared blankly as he spoke.

  "You didn't answer the question. You might have saved me, but I don't see you fighting the Hero. Kill him and you could save a lot more than one old man."

  Though he wanted to tell them of how the Hero always returned, it sounded like a lie even in his own mind. Had he been Tani, Slaten might have tried to tell them a beautiful story of humanity wanting to join with the mansthein, with only the Legend standing between them. But though she believed in that ideal, he couldn't speak it aloud. Much simpler words fell from his lips.

  "Some humans want that. Some don't. Most just want to live their lives."

  Ragh nodded as if this was great wisdom. "I figured that. I can tell you that I never wanted to invade no human lands. But life is rough back home, and a big man like me, everyone tells you that you should join the military. I can't say that I like you humans, but you seem to be getting along on your own."

  "Humans are divided into many nations, but I have seen... all mansthein are mostly together." Slaten moved his gaze to each of them. "Am I wrong?"

  "Of course you are! Us here, we're all good Feinan stock. Can you really not tell the difference between us and Seinans? And don't get me started on the Laenans, much less the filthy Feras..."

  "All of you fight in the same army."

  "Yes and no." Fijn entered the conversation quietly, but Ragh stopped shouting to let him speak. "The idea that all mansthein are united is propaganda."

  "Is what?"

  "Uh, lies the leaders tell. Got it? Different legions are controlled by different powers, and they cooperate only under duress. When they're forced to. Some supposedly friendly competitions between legions grow bloody, and there are always rumors that we're truly at war with ourselves in far-off lands, like Younten Trathe."

  Ragh stared at his fellow soldier with wide eyes. "Damn, Fijn, when did you start learning politics?"

 

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