Chapter 3: Compromise

That's a nice wagon you have there, mister. Would be a shame if somethin' happened to it.

This episode starts here. Why not just dive in? If you have a good answer, then previous episodes start here. This chapter is down thar.

Chapter 3: Compromise

Jedrek felt a rising dread from the moment he saw the stranger’s wagon. Even from a distance, he could tell things weren’t as Maita left them. Cargo was scattered everywhere, and the feathered lizard was unhitched. Jedrek doubted any of this was part of the merchant’s agenda.

“Hey, Dahlia!” he shouted when he recognized her as the one rummaging through the wagon. Jaquan, Trent, and Idris were lounging on the driver’s bench, and Lyn was trying to get Bo and Maita’s lizard to care about each other’s sleepy existence. “Tell me you got permission before you did this!”

“O’ course,” she called back without bothering to look.

“Did she?!” Jedrek demanded of the others. Idris and Jaquan shrugged, and Trent ignored him. Jedrek sighed. “What could you possibly be looking for?”

“We’ll know when I find it!” Dahlia chuckled.

Jedrek sighed. “Look, everything goes back where you found it! That includes you, Trent and Idris!”

“Hush,” Trent said, focusing on whatever object he held.

“And this is Trent’s,” Idris replied. He opened his fist to show Jedrek the spongy organ, then went back to rhythmically squeezing it.  “It came out of the Curator.”

“Hey, yeah!” Dahlia crawled out of the wagon. “Let Jedrek try.”

“Try what?” he asked, still sullen with her.

“Here,” Idris offered the organ to him. “Squeeze it.”

“Ew,” Jedrek wrinkled his face, but accepted it. At least it was dry. He was aware that everyone was watching him, even Trent and Lyn. What’s that about?

He gave it a squeeze. His right arm spasmed, and pain shot up into his core. He yelped and dropped the offending object. The pain disappeared; the organ barely hit the ground before he was wondering if he’d just imagined it.

Jedrek’s siblings laughed as he flushed. “What was that for? You shouldn’t humiliate me for no reason!”

“Relax,” Dahlia retrieved the fallen sponge. “We all done it, we ain’t makin’ fun o’ ya. We just wanted to see if you’re one o’ the ones it can’t hurt.”

“Why did it hurt?” Jedrek asked, relieved he wasn’t being pranked. “What is it?”

“It generates sparks,” Trent replied. “Drops of lightning.” Dahlia squeezed the sponge, yelping and dropping it. Trent rolled his eyes. “It’s not something that’s going to get easier with practice, Dahlia.”

“You don’t know,” Dahlia grinned back at him.

“Electricity,” Jedrek knew a little about it. “So that’s what it feels like…”

“Electri-wha?” Dahlia asked.

“Drops of lightning,” Jedrek repeated. “It doesn’t affect all of us this way? Who doesn’t it hurt?”

“Trent!” Dahlia called. “Do it again!”

“Hush.” Trent ignored her.

“C’mon! Please?”

He sighed and held his hand toward her. She dropped the organ into his palm, and he obediently squoze. Beginning with the little strands on his arm, his hair began to stand on end, getting more extreme with each squeeze.

“Fascinating.” Jedrek’s hand found its way to his mouth. “That doesn’t hurt?”

“It’s my affinity.” Trent replied. “It’s expected. ‘Fascinating’ is the term I’d apply to Idris.”

“He’s immune too?” Jedrek pondered. He had been working the sponge when Jedrek arrived, back when he assumed it belonged to Maita. “Why doesn’t it make your hair stand?”

“Dunno,” Idris shrugged and accepted the organ back, immediately squeezing it again. “Feels kinda nice to me.”

“It’s probably how he resisted the attack that hurt Matron Cascata,” Jaquan added.

Trent groaned and looked exasperated. “Don’t ruin the experiment, Jaq! The subject should remain oblivious.”

“Like I couldn’t think about that myself?” Idris asked. “Wait, I’m an experiment?”

“If you come up with the theory yourself, there’s no helping it. I just hope it doesn’t influence the results.” Trent turned back to his object. “And of course you’re an experiment. You all are, when circumstances align.”

“Trent, you shouldn’t regard your siblings that way!” Jedrek lectured.

“Shouldn’t regard them ‘solely’ that way, Jed. And I don’t. They are my siblings first and experiments only when the scientific process will not harm them. Leave ethics to the elder, she’s much less screechy about it.”

Jedrek sighed, and let his attention shift away. He noticed Lyn between Bo and Maita’s lizard of the same species, both of whom seemed to be napping. Still, they were predators, and while Bo was famously well-behaved, he didn’t know if that translated to other members of the species.

“You okay over there, Lyn? What are you doing?”

“I’ve never seen another Bo,” she called back, sounding disappointed. “I thought he’d be happy to make a new friend, but neither of them seem to care.”

“It’s pretty clear he doesn’t dislike her, isn’t it? Or him, whatever. That aside, are you sure Maita’s Bo is not dangerous?”

“Don’t be dumb, Jed,” Lyn gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “She gets easy food from Maita. I’m too much work.”

“Ya gonna make sure all th’ field mice’re behavin’ too, Jed?” Dahlia wrapped her arm around his shoulders and leaned on him. “Is that fun ‘er somethin’? If so, tha’s the angriest sorta fun I ever seen!”

Jedrek sighed, “It’s not about fun, Dahl, but your observation is noted. It’s just… we have a guest, and it’s important we treat him well.”

“Ya do got a point there. Believe it ‘r not, I was thinkin’ o’ volunteering ta help ‘im with somethin’.”

“Oh?” This made Jedrek suspicious. “You sure he needs your brand of help?”

“Nah, but we’ll find out when he gets back.”

“Or maybe before.” Svara’s voice startled Jedrek, but he tried not to show it. When had she arrived? “Only a little before, though. They’re done, he’ll be here soon.”

“Yeah? How’d it go?” Dahlia asked.

“How’d what go?” Jedrek was even more suspicious.

“He wouldn’t wait and they wouldn’t rush. Looks like he’s on his own.” Svara reported.

“Perfect.” Dahlia grinned.

“What’s perfect?” Jedrek demanded. “Who’s on his own, Maita?”

“Yeah.” Dahlia nodded. “Or so he thinks.”

“What mischief are you planning, Dahlia?!”

“None!” Dahlia grinned and pat him on the head. “Stick around an’ see.”

The response disarmed him a little. “Good. And I think I will.”

They didn’t have to wait long. Maita soon trudged towards them, though he didn’t seem to notice their presence - or their mess - until Dahlia greeted him. “Oi. What’s gotcha daydreamin’ there, stranger?”

“Mm?” He snapped back to reality. “Ah, hey lass. Whatcha doin’?” He narrowed his eyes at the disarray. “Lose somethin’ in my stuff, did we?”

“Dahlia!” Jedrek shouted. “You said you had permission!”

“I dunno what tha’ word means, Jed.”

He was too furious to verify her claim.

“It’s fine, just help me clean it up so I can be on my way, okay?” Maita began to gather his scattered wares.

“Sure, but we ‘ave a condition.” Dahlia replied.

“Oh, so you know what that word means!” Jedrek set to helping Maita. “You’re in so much trouble, Dahlia!”

Dahlia rolled her eyes. “Trouble, ya say? Wha’s that mean?”

“Betcha she doesn’t have trouble with ‘extortion,’” Maita laughed. This plight actually seemed to brighten his mood. “Ya want a souvenir or something? I’m sure we can make something work.”

“Nah,” Dahlia said. “We wantcha to take us with ya.”

“You want to come to the south?” Maita asked.

“She means she wants to be one of the four warriors you requested,” Svara clarified.

Everyone was silent as they processed the revelation. Jedrek wasn’t sure what Svara meant. What had Maita requested warriors for?

“Someone’s got sharp ears,” he chuckled. “That how ya found me ‘fore I noticed you?”

“I used the same method, yes,” Svara admitted.

“I did ask for warriors,” Maita said. “Warriors. Not children. Sorry, but I’m not gonna risk your life just because you want to play grown-up.”

“Who’s playin’?” Dahlia was indignant. “I ain’t a child. Neither’s Svara!  Her’n me have been kickin’ ass around here, I’ll ‘ave ya know.”

“I hate to boast, but we were the ones to kill the thing from the silence,” Svara added. “Dahlia and I have seen many battles in the last few weeks.”

“Truth told, we kinda run things ‘round here,” Dahlia boasted.

Maita gave Svara a long look. “Your matron did say it was her new daughter from the north. I suppose you’re not lying, but it changes little. I’m not going there. It’s not worth the risk.”

“You are so,” Svara accused. “Because it’s very much worth the risk.”

“What are we even talking about?” Jedrek asked. “Where are you going that you would need warriors?”

“Nowhere,” Maita claimed. “Because I don’t have them.”

“War,” Dahlia dissented with a grin. “Tha’s where warriors go, dummy.”

“Then he’s right, Dahlia,” Jedrek said. “Your matron said ‘no.’ If Cascata denied him, then you should too!”

“She didn’t say ‘no,’ Jedrek,” Svara corrected. “She said ‘not now.’”

“That’s not much of a distinction,” Jedrek respected Svara than Dahlia, so it was harder to argue with her. How did Dahlia talk her into this, anyway? “The way I see it, you’re defying your matron.”

“She never told us not ta do this,” Dahlia pointed out.

“Only ‘cause she doesn’t know you plan to!”

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Svara said.

“That’s not true in any way!” Jedrek cried. “She’s crippled right now because of things she didn’t know!”

Svara winced and her face reddened a little. “I spoke poorly. Still-”

“-we’re here ta fill the matron’s space while she’s down,” Dahlia finished. “We’re short on warriors right now, tha’s why she asked Maita ta wait. We’ll make up fer her an’ Kadmus an’ all them who fell these last weeks.”

“All the bravado in the world can’t make up for experience,” Maita said. “You’re just too young. You can’t be older than, what, seventeen? Even five more years and I might consider it. As it stands…”

“You hush up,” Dahlia ordered with a smirk. “We ain’t givin’ ya a choice.”

Maita laughed loud enough to startle the jumpier witnesses. “What, ya think this mess’ll keep me long? Correct me if I’m wrong, boy, but ya seem to think I can just enlighten your elder and my path will clear up real quick.”

“You’re not wrong, Mr. Maita,” Jedrek confirmed. “Not in the slightest.”

“Clear path don’t make a broke wagon move,” Dahlia said. “Trent gave me a few tips on how I might break it if ya tried somethin’ like that.”

“Trent?!” Jedrek turned on his smaller brother. “Why would you do something like that?”

“Because this is the correct strategy, Jedrek.” Trent was unfazed. “It’s a worthy gamble. We should risk it.”

“You protect your wagon, Maita,” Jedrek whispered to him. “I’ll tell the elder…”

“Not yet, you won’t.” Two big arms slid under his own and locked across his chest. “You can tell her once we’re on our way.”

“Idris!” Jedrek struggled, but his lazy brother was stronger than he looked. When did he get behind me?! “Is Dahlia’s crazy contagious or something?! Are you all in on this?”

“Lyn is,” Idris said. “She’s made friends with his beast. If he decides he can just leave his stuff and try to go without us, she might be able to keep it from obeying him. Honestly, that’s the least certain part of the plan. We’re hoping it doesn’t come to that.”

“And you, Jaquan?” Jedrek demanded. “Where do you stand?”

“I don’t, Jed.” Jaquan had tears in his eyes. “I don’t stand. I’m scared. They’re not wrong, I don’t think, but I don’t think I’m brave enough to help them. Yet I’m also afraid that if they go in there, they won’t come back. I’m even afraid if they stay, the monsters will come back and finish us off. Nothing’s safe anymore, Jed. What else we do?”

“Jaq…” Jedrek didn’t know what to say. If even Jaquan saw merit to this madness, maybe it wasn’t mad.

“There’s some trouble we can’t act our way out of,” Svara said. “You told the matron you’d go, even alone. Knowing the guards are gone and then discovering why; this opportunity is too good to pass up. We all agree, Maita. This window won’t open again. Let’s not miss our chance.”

The treasure hunter sighed and rubbed his head. “Never been cornered by kids before. Tell me, why are you so eager? What makes you so sure this is right?”

“It’s worked before,” Trent replied. “You’ve been told of the last battle, yes? Of the Curator? When he died, the horde was routed, the battle was won. If the Curator’s leader is defeated, then the war should be won. Going on the offensive has made him vulnerable. We should strike that vulnerability.”

“And if I’m wrong, and he’s not in there?” Maita asked.

“He was guarding something,” Svara replied. “He’s leaving something valuable unguarded. Even if it’s not a direct hit, it’s an opportunity to harm him. That can only help our cause.”

Maita was silent for several seconds, then chuckled. “We Bolons have been in the same business since Midway went dark. You guys know the key to runnin’ a family business?” When none of them answered, he laughed again. “It’s about swallowing your pride when the kids know better about something than you do. My pa almost ruined us when he couldn’t do it, I’ll have ya know. I’ll be damned if I make the same mistake.”

Know any teenagers? Watch your kneecaps and lunch money, then.

Chapter 2: Distinctions

There's no way this should have taken this long. Nor should it be this rough! We do have a new directive, though, so consider my attention divided! Apologies.

Anyhoo: if you're new here and curious about what came before, the first chapter of this episode is here and previous episodes begin here. You can read this chapter below.

Chapter 2: Distinctions

Cascata couldn’t remember the last time she felt this small. She grew to full height at a young age, and the hunter’s life made her thick to match. She was used to being the most imposing person present. That was never as true when visiting her biggest brother and aunt, but this time she felt downright inadequate.

Their cottage was a contradiction: humble yet enormous. On this cot opposite her aunt’s bed, Cascata felt like a doll. She couldn’t walk because of the injury the Curator inflicted, and though her hostess was also confined to her bed, her dependence on others only worsened the malaise.

 Cascata never met any other giants; her aunt and half-breed son were the only ones she’d ever seen. The elder claimed there were many more, but they lived far to the northwest, even beyond the borders of Matorbihumi. Cascata couldn’t comprehend such a distant place; anything outside the clockwork kingdoms may as well not exist to her. What made Midway special enough for this woman to stray so far from her homeland?

That story was more than a century old. The clan had more pressing issues to discuss.

“Are you comfortable, little Cas?” her sickly aunt asked.

“Nah, Aunty Itzel.” Cascata grinned. “Don’t got any o’ me favorite boneheads within’ smackin’ distance. Ya done th’ best ya can, but it ain’t gonna feel quite like home until Evan can’t run away from me when ‘e says somethin’ stupid.”

“Oh, sweetie, don’t pick on Evan…”

“‘kay. Want me ta stop breathin’, too?”

“Cascata, please, shut up,” the elder shook her head. “We’ve got a lot of listening to do. I know how much you hate it, but it’s one of those times.”

“Alrigh’, I’m sorry,” Cascata held her good arm up in surrender. “I’m comfy, Itzy. We c’n start.”

Elder Inga sighed. “Itzy, this isn’t going to be an easy conversation. Are you sure you’re up for it?”

“Of course, deary,” the giant’s voice was a sweet sort of thunder. “You’ve done so much for us, how could I say no?”

“You could say no because it’s about your time in the woods,” the elder replied.

“Oh,” Itzel deflated at the mention. “Yes, that is less than pleasant.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry sis,” the elder fretted. “You know I wouldn’t ask if-”

“I do know, Inga. Come now, it’s not as if I denied you. If my experience can help you in any way, then I should be ready to share it. Just try to forgive my frailty.”

“That ain’t hard, there be worse crimes,” Cascata teased.

“Cas,” the elder groaned. “Mr… Bolon, was it? I don’t think I can respond to your request until I get my sister’s advice. Do you mind waiting?”

“Of course not. I might learn something myself! Am I right?” Maita Bolon laughed. The ‘treasure hunter’ was a jovial sort, which Cascata found pleasant and suspicious. Both those feelings made her want to be around him.

“And you trust him with this, Itzel?” the elder asked. Cascata rolled her eyes; she was being too careful.

“Who, Maita? Oh of course, dear. He’s harmless.”

“‘less ya get between me and a good meal, ha!” Maita slapped his ample belly.

“Then let’s begin. The clan is under attack, Itzel. We’ve never experienced anything like this. We’re used to chasing off a desperate predator at night, and we cope as best we can when a hunter just doesn’t come home, but none of us ever needed to fight an army. We face annihilation, and I don’t know what to do.”

“An army?” Itzel gasped. “On western soil? Does the king know?”

“That’s…” the elder paused. Cascata had also forgotten they were technically inside his borders. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea to involve him. Still, this isn’t the army you’re imagining, Itzel. This is an army of Stingers, of the things-”

“What provoked them?” Itzel asked.

The question caught them off guard. The old giant was more insightful than Cascata expected.

“Trouble brang us another daughter,” Cascata explained. “It chased ‘er right to us, up from th’ north down an’ around an’ through the woods, right into our camp. Bigger trouble chased that trouble-”

“A true monster, Itzy,” the elder cut in. “Enormous, twice or three times the size of our biggest beast! We’d never seen anything like it.”

“We killt it though,” Cascata finished. “Our new northern daughter opened its belly. We think tha’s what started this.”

“A thing from the silence.” Itzel paled. “They can die?”

Cascata and the elder looked at each other. They were getting to the hard part now. The elder was worried they’d traumatize her poor sister before they could dig any wisdom out of her, so Cascata wasn’t supposed to talk if her aunt began to get scared. This might get boring, then.

Curious, she gave Maita a glance. His smile was gone, but he didn’t look scared. He wore the face of someone doing hard math; was he so lost by their conversation that he turned his thoughts to other matters, or was this scheme connected?

“What are they, Itzy?” the elder asked. “What did you see while you were in there?”

“Come, dear, I don’t have the eyes to see anything in there,” Itzel regained some composure. “Does anyone have something from the Dawnless Woods on them? I mean something made from the creatures, a bit of that armor of theirs.”

“‘ere, I got a knife.” Cascata winced trying to reach for it. Ever since the damned Curator redid all the Stinger’s damage to her shoulder, any slight movement could cause its blades to stab at her from within.

“Stop that, I’ll get it,” the elder scolded, lifting the blanket and retrieving the holster from her right side. She stood and hobbled over to her giant sister. “Here you are, Itzy.”

“Thanks dear. Yes, this is what I mean,” Itzel held the knife between her thumb and index finger so they could all see. “Now. Do you all know the seven elements? I’m sure you do, Inga, you had the same schooling I did.”

“O’ course,” Maita answered. “Earth, wind, water, life, fire, light, and lightning.”

Cascata was relieved she didn’t have to answer. The subject bored her, so sometimes she would forget one or two.

“Life,” Itzel repeated. “That’s the one I want to focus on. It transforms some of the others: earth and wind and water.”

“Bone an’ breath an’ blood, yeah,” Cascata recited. “It’s what makes wood an’ skin diff’rent from rocks.”

“Right.” Itzel nodded. “And also the stuff in this knife. But what did life transform this from?”

Cascata opened her mouth to answer, but hesitated. She thought it might be one of the different flavors of earth, because the knife was a lot like bone. But...

“Perhaps metal,” the elder offered. “I know that falls under earth, but we can use this in ways we can’t use bone.”

“I dunno, mum,” Cascata said. “Metal comes back after ya melt it. This stuff ain’t the same after fire.”

“Could be a mix,” Maita suggested. “Different earths and some air and water besides.”

“Or it could be something else entirely,” Itzel finished. “The point is, it’s new to the world. I’ve never seen anything like it, never heard anyone describe something like this. I really believe it didn’t exist in this world before Midway went dark. It’s sort of miraculous, if you think about it…”

“Indeed,” Maita interrupted. “What does it have to do with ‘your things from the silence’?”

“Ah, right, thank you dear,” Itzel cleared her throat. “Everything that lives in there has this substance, but in those weeks we were escaping from Midway I began to notice some monsters had more of it than others. There were the beasties, of course, all those types you hunt and a few I haven’t seen since. Then there were the scarier ones, the ones sort of like people-”

“Like that giggly stick ‘o broke ‘is fingers off’n me shoulder,” Cascata growled. She grimaced, remembering she wasn’t supposed to talk anymore. Oh well, damage done. “e’s covered in that stuff, head ta toe.”

“Yes dear, like that monster. I’m so sorry.” Itzel gulped hard before continuing. “I thought it was just those two classes of them, at first. Then I stumbled into the silence that once. One moment it was normal, with wind and chirps and little Gabor’s coos. Then I thought I went deaf for a moment, it was like the forest died around me. I was confused, and that’s probably why I didn’t stop right away. That’s when the third kind found me.”

Cascata grit her teeth as she watched the old giant tremble. Whoever it was she found in the silence left such an impression that even the memory could scare her this bad. The hunter matron wished she could find and extract some vengeance from it.

“Ever since, I’ve likened this stuff to marble, because the creatures in the silence were practically sculpted from it. There were so many, and they were on me so fast! They just loomed over us, like monuments to some dark god. If I’d taken one more step, they’d not have left a scrap, I’m sure of it. They didn’t speak, but they were telling me I was unwelcome.”

“Didn’t you say you can’t see in the dark?” Maita asked. “How could you tell they had more of that stuff than the people-kind or the animals?”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t see them. I spent weeks in there, though, your other sense can tell.” She scratched a fingernail against Cascata’s knife to demonstrate its unique sound. “Plus, when there’s that much of this in one place, you can feel it on the air. It sucks the heat from the atmosphere and makes everything heavy. It pulls on you. Until you meet one - no, maybe you need many of those types to gather - I don’t think you can understand what I mean.”

Cascata and the elder exchanged a glance.

“She was right, before. Fleahorn was probably one of those.”

“Aye,” Cascata agreed. “I feel somethin’ in yer tent now that we’re usin’ his collar fer the smoke-hole. It’s a kinda peaceful feel, when it’s dead…”

“So you think they angered that dark god when his monument got smashed.” The women looked at Maita as he summarized. “More to the point, you believe there is a dark god, and this armor stuff is his hallmark. So what’s your advice, old Izel? Do they appease or oppose him?”

Cascata smirked and gave him a sidelong look, but the elder pre-empted her. “Well, there’s a step between where we are and that one, son. We came to learn what she knows about these creatures. Once we know what she does, we can talk about fighting or fleeing…”

“Oh sister, you know I want you to run. I don’t know much about fighting, despite my size I was never so good at it. Stay with me, or if that’s not safe enough, join the west. The king is a good man. He already considers us to be his subjects, you’d lose no freedom-”

“Hold on now,” Cascata tried not to sound annoyed. “We ain’t talkin’ about that yet. I know ya ain’t learnt in fightin’, aunty, but it’s my favorite kinda math. What ye’re tellin’ me makes me like our fightin’ chances. When you met them mon’ments, you walked away. Tha’s ‘cause they let you, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes dear,” Itzel conceded.

“An’ he’s mad at us in the firs’ place ‘cause we killed one of ‘em. I don’ think he’ll risk another if he likes ‘em so much. There’re reasons they didn’t chase you, and I think they’re the same reasons they won’t come ta kill us now. If there only be these three types, like Itzel says, then I think we only gotta worry about them people-lookin’ kind. And my hunters’re worth at least three of each o’ them.”

“But we don’t know if he has more secrets, Cas,” the elder argued. “We don’t know what he has lurking near the river or along the roads.”

“Roads are just thick with the man-types, I can tell you that much,” Maita said. “He’s not hiding anything new there.”

“Why’s everyone convinced the god is a ‘he?’” the elder grumbled. “Before that, Itzel: is there anything else you can remember that might help us understand our enemy better?”

“Inga, I’m afraid I wasn’t hiding anything like that from you. I didn’t understand much of what happened as I fled Midway. I wouldn’t have guessed the forest would organize against us this way. I don’t know what comes next.”

“I do,” Maita claimed. “More or less. It’s frightening, but an opportunity comes with it. Will you take it?”

Once again, he had everyone’s attention. Cascata was the first to respond. “We listenin’, merchant. Go on.”

“I’m not a Mercha-” Maita shook his head. “I was coming from the east when I discovered the change in the west. I had intended to go south until it became clear something changed, and I had to keep heading west until I knew what that change was. I can’t prove my theory, but because I know why it’s happening, I believe I understand what is happening. The master of the woods is going to dispense his justice and replace his losses at the same time. That general you killed, he’ll want to fill that void. To do that, he’ll determine which of his man-monsters are strongest by pitting them against the others, and then he’ll put them to seeing to his justice. Whichever one inflicts the most vengeance, that’s the one he’ll  promote. He’ll pursue two agendas with one task.”

“I know you said you can’t prove it, but is there any basis for this theory?” the elder asked. “You understand if we wonder how much of this is assumption.”

Maita sighed. “I do. Some of it is assumption. You should understand better than anyone, though: I’ve been living in this tyrant’s shadow my entire life. These assumptions of mine were formed from a lifetime of sneaking through his domain and retrieving his squandered wealth. My family has been doing this since Midway went dark. The people of every clockwork nation would say it’s impossible - much like what they’d say about your lifestyle. We must be doing something right, yes?”

Cascata saw the treasure hunter’s personality change over the course of this conversation. She didn’t blame him for the fake persona; it seemed like a good way to thrive amongst the squatters of the clockwork nations. The act was slipping now, and Cascata was glad. It didn’t seem intentional - his accent sounded more like Itzel’s and the elder’s now, maybe they made him drop his guard? Regardless, this exposure felt honest. He wasn’t trying to fool them.

Think I might wanna pretend I see it differently, though. “Fer somebody who ain’t a merchant, ya sure are keen on sellin’ this story. Why ya want us ta buy it so bad?”

“Sell you-” Maita grimaced and rubbed his forehead. “No, you’re right. This should sound suspicious, coming from a stranger. And there is something I want from this situation. From you. But it’s not at your expense, see? This is for our mutual benefit. I’ve described the danger, but you do remember when I said there was also an opportunity? I can help you win this war.”

The room was silent for several seconds. “How?” The elder asked.

“There’s a place, south and a little west from the abandoned city. It’s where the road forks, it’s where I noticed the change in the west. It’s a shelter, the kind of building you can’t make without magic. I’ve been all over those woods, and the only place he’s guarded as well as this tower is the old city. Something’s in there, friends. Something vital. It might even be his home. Now that you’re in his sights, the guards have vanished - near as I can tell, I mean. I’m sure it’s not completely undefended. The point is, my family has been watching that building for generations, and this is the best chance we’ve ever had. Give me four of your best warriors, that should be enough to claim whatever he’s deemed so crucial. If he’s in there, four is enough to even take his head. I realize it’s a lot to ask, but this is the first chance in a hundred years. None of us will live to see another one.”

“Maita, I’ve never seen you like this,” Itzel observed. “Who are you, really?”

“The same man you’ve always known, Itzy,” Maita assured. “I’m just forced to take things a little more seriously right now.”

“Four warriors,” Cascata repeated. “If we count you - should I count you? Killin’ another Fleahorn, I’d send more’n five if I wanted it ta be a sure thing. More fer the god hisself. Ya got a lot of faith in us, fer bein’ strangers.”

“So does he, to commit this much against you,” Maita countered. “It seems warranted, considering your harsh existence. And- to be completely honest - I’m a bit desperate. This isn’t a sure thing. Four are capable, but I couldn’t guarantee success even with ten. It’s a gamble, ladies, but ya won’t ever see these dice again.”

The clan could usually spare four warriors, but could they now? They had fewer hunters now than at any point in their history. Plus, if Maita, Trent, and the elder’s math was right, individual enemies would be more potent without the Curator controlling them. That meant if even one monster survived longer than Cascata’s last hunter, she couldn’t be certain her civilian family could finish it off. They needed every fighter they had, especially with her, the hunter matron, confined to bedrest. This request of Maita’s was a gamble, one with very high stakes and no guarantee the reward would be worth the risk.

“Is it possible, Cascata? Can we spare them?” the elder’s question surprised her. Cascata would have thought she wanted to deny this stranger, but it sounded like she trusted him. “Could the herd help us hold long enough to allow it?”

She wanted to say ‘yes.’ She liked this opportunity, it felt good. Was this a feeling game, though? Wasn’t the elder supposed to be opposed to it? Her wistful tone made her sound naive, like she’d lost her objectivity because she wanted something too badly. What was she hoping this would accomplish? Maita hadn’t explained how whatever was being guarded would help them win, unless it was the ‘dark god’ himself. What made the elder certain this tower was valuable?

The hunter matron frowned and stared into her lap. Compromise; this feels like we need compromise. Where’s the middle ground here?

Guess we’ll find out. “I need some details ta know. How many days ya need, Mait’?”

I detect some clunk in the system. We'll work it out later.

Episode 4, Chapter 1: Natural Selection

Gawd, FINALLY! Sheesh. I was so productive during Nano, and then December hits and it's like BAM! Hope you're comfortable, sucka, 'cause I'ma paralyze yo ass with these here seasonal-onset blues!

Well I hope you're happy, December. I totally WASN'T comfortable, by the way. You could at least roll a brother over once in a while. Jerk.

Ah, right. Brand-spankin' new stuff!

This was hard. I'm not sure I can get away with starting a story this way, either, but I think it's an experiment that needs to happen. So, willing subject...

This is episode 4 in a series I'm calling Arbiter. Episode 1 is here. To start at Episode 4 (hey, Star Wars did), click below. Now, off you go, minion! FOR SCIENCE!

Chapter 1: Natural Selection

Blood was on the air, and the taste became thicker by the moment. It took all of his discipline - and the promise of a greater reward -  to keep him from pouncing on its sources. They squabbled on the forest floor below him, ignorant of their growing audience.

Those without patience would simply join the fight; if they didn’t, the brawl would have ended by now. All of them felt the temptation to do the same, but the brighter onlookers knew it was too early. Might, skill, and most importantly: patience. The last combatant was likely to be the victor.

Besides, the Ambusher’s favorite sort of fight only lasted for an instant. His weapons were superior when used with surprise, were unwieldy once the enemy became wary of them..

So the show went on, surviving off the constant supply of intruders to replace its dying cast. A biter freed a fellow contestant of its throat, only to have its skull collapse under the blow of a smasher. Two others fell to the smasher’s might before if was mauled from behind by a pouncer. The pouncer could barely finish the job before it was skewered by a stabber.

The best time to secure a kill was when the target was distracted by something else, and nothing required focus like securing a kill on a distracted target. Each successful ambush was rewarded with another, and even when failures were punished by their would-be prey, the punishment yielded a better opportunity for a more competent attacker.

The Ambusher wiped a trail of drool from his chin; he couldn’t afford to be too entranced by the dance. That’s how it victimized all the others. The Ambusher wanted to be its master, to perform the final step. For that, he would need to keep control.

What had started the melee? The answer wouldn’t matter, but maybe such a triviality could keep his mind away from any suicidal temptations. Perhaps the instigators had fought over some dumb prey who wandered into the darkness? Was one brawler stupid enough to venture into another’s territory? Was it by some manipulation by the Miracle? As he expected, ‘why?’ was a useless question; he was sure it started when one fighter spotted an opening and a third exploited the subsequent new opening.

Blood erupted from the center of the chaos; this was a good sign! It meant a more patient - and powerful - combatant had reason to believe it was time to end the free-for-all. The Ambusher salivated again; what might this fellow taste like?

Not yet. He rhythmically shifted his weight between legs and kneaded the branch with his claws. Soon, but not yet…

It took special eyes to see anything in the Dawnless Woods, and he he had them as this sublime scene played on. This new champion was optimized for crowds, fast and sharp and potent. It clove through the horde like a blade through reeds. Pointed appendages stabbed at any aggressors trying to exploit its turned back, and the Ambusher admired its ability to use its many limbs in tandem.

With luck, this one has the makings of a winner. With luck…

Heavy footfalls heralded the arrival of a juggernaut, the thuds of its stride becoming crunches of bone and armor as it plowed into the fray. It bowled through the thinning opposition straight into the swipes of the other champion. The blades embedded into the newcomer’s armor, but only enough to lock the wielder in place. It made one feeble attempt to free itself before its armor caved under the blunt force of the new champion.

Its armor was thicker and likely enhanced with an earth affinity, but the Ambusher knew how to get through it. The angle is so good, too. It tensed its body, but restrained itself. Not yet. The Ambusher shouldn’t get complacent, even as it finished off the rest of the horde and began to feast. Not yet!

The feasting champion lashed out at a hint of movement among the corpses, successfully snatching the wormy offender. It held it in front of its face, confused by the twitching bit of tendril. Neither the feaster nor its stalker realized in time that it wasn’t severed from its host…

Someone new, half the size of its target, leaped at the distracted anchor. Its elastic tendril accelerated the flight, granting the attacker enough momentum to plunge the point on its oversized arm into and through its victims armored chest.

Now! The Ambusher began its preparation as soon as it saw the blur. It leaned back, preparing to use its special arms to slingshot into this latest opportunist.

The larger fighter groaned as it died on its attackers arm. The smaller one cackled, masking the scratch of bark above and behind him…

The Ambusher winced and froze in place as a light engulfed the his prey. He seethed in pained anger; even candlelight would hurt someone with eyes like his. This was many magnitudes worse.

The flash only lasted an instant, but his eyes needed several seconds to readjust. By that time, the spear-armed creature had fallen with a smoking hole through its head, and its killer stood alone on the field of corpses.

This was a jarring turn of events. The Ambusher had exhausted his patience, if he’d acted any faster he’d have been at this newcomer’s mercy! Plus, what was this feeling? The scent in the air, and the strange appeal to this creature’s lithe figure…

Cooked meat. Men and women. Family, order, beauty, good and evil. It had been so long since he’d given such things any thought. For some reason, this event had brought those concepts rushing back. He briefly wondered what part of this scene he was associating with those memories.

The distraction was strange, but not unpleasant. It wasn’t enough to keep his mind off his delicious task for long.

The Ambusher leaned back and pushed with his legs, stretching the elastic filament in his arms until he could see them between armor joints. He jumped to force his arms to their limit. The tendons killed his backward momentum then shot him forward, leaving the branch shuddering behind him.

The victim could scarcely whip around to face him before they collided. The long, curved blades under his arms and over his shoulder clamped around his target, cutting and crushing as the two of them bounced and rolled over the forest floor.

His body was honed to absorb this kind of impact; even his rigid blades were shaped to transfer the shock to his flexible core. His prey didn’t have any such protection. Its form was limp, broken, and bleeding in his embrace.

Their tumble finally stopped, and for several long moments his victim didn’t move. With an abrupt convulsion, it struggled to raise its head and look him in the eye. It opened its mouth and labored to exhale.

Speech. Another long-forgotten concept brought that strange nostalgia rushing back. It wants to speak. What will it say? The ambusher leaned closer so it he might better hear…

Idiot!

He snapped out of his trance and bent his neck away just before a plume of liquid fire escaped his prey’s throat. The light blinded him, but he could tell it hit his left shoulder-mounted blade with enough force and heat to pass straight through.

The blast freed his victim, but it was also dead before it hit the ground. The Ambusher staggered a few steps back and waited for his eyes to recover. He felt giddy; truly, this was a worthy prize.

Memory and meaning alike slipped away as he gorged on the dead burner. Eating was awkward while he held his severed blade in place, but he finished quickly once he’d consumed enough armor to fuse it back into place. The meal wasn’t large, but it was amongst the richest he’d ever had. This small body carried an enormous amount of substance, proof of a long life and countless victories. The Ambusher could hardly wait to see how his body would use these features in his next evolution.

Something scratched against his skull, a sound so soft that he wasn’t even sure he’d heard it. He froze; if it was real, he’d need to be careful.

Whosoever brings me the most from this collection of heads will become my newest Curator. A series of human faces cycled through his mind. One was more prominent than the others. This one is worth three of the others.

As feared, it was a message from the Miracle. Contrary to expectations, this was good news. The best possible news! Not only did he have a chance to receive a potent blessing from the Miracle, but this meant the old Curator was gone!

He tried to imagine what the corpse looked like. Had he died slow? Did they torment him, subject him to the same humiliation the Curator had inflicted on the Ambusher? He hoped the killer began to consume the old Curator while he was still alive, forced him to watch as they devoured his organs. More than that, the Ambusher wished he could have been the one to do it…

He’d tried, once. Several mutations back, when the Ambusher hadn’t known about the Curator’s ability to read thoughts, he tried to stalk the Miracle’s pet. The Ambusher found the perfect angle and took the perfect shot. He could remember everything up to the moment his blades were supposed to clamp around the Curator’s neck.

When he woke, his body was no longer his own. The Curator had changed something, altered his brain so the vessel could be controlled from a distance. After a few hours of playing with his new puppet, the Curator got bored and released him. The Ambusher fled, tried to find a place outside the Curator’s range of influence. No matter where he went, he always caught occasional glimpses of his overlord. The Curator would stroll by, pretend he didn’t notice the enmity of his slaves watching him from the darkness.

There could be no mistake, though. Whenever the Ambusher had dared to hope he went unnoticed, the Curator would cram reality back into his subject’s thoughts.

No, tool. You are mine. You always will be.

No more; he was free! Not only that, his freedom came with unprecedented opportunity!

West. My prey is South and West. The Ambusher chewed faster, shoved bigger portions of the meal into his mouth. There wasn’t much time, but he couldn’t abandon such valuable scraps.

He committed the faces to memory as he chewed, especially hers. The Ambusher didn’t know if the message was going to every denizen of the forest or a select few of the worthy ones, but he’d prove he was fittest for this duty. While he couldn’t fathom what made this human female so valuable to the Miracle, but he’d be happy to deliver her mangled skull to him.

He only hoped she’d survive until he found her.

For you savvy lab mice out there (HI GLORIA!), yes, that WAS a gomu-gomu-no-rocket you saw in there! Good eye, mate!

For the group

Hey ya'll that came out to the SLC writing group! Couple links to guide ya through the madness: the series I'm bringing to group starts here.

The world-building part where I talk about magic and the elements and such starts here.

That's all! Sees ya's around!