Healing

[Rookie12]

The rays of the rising sun greeted Zeke upon his return to Stonehelm, warming his membranous wings. The invasion had left an ugly imprint on it, forever changing its numerous streets, destroying its cherished ancient buildings, and turning the surrounding lands into a scorched desert. Withered grass, craters left by artillery, dried up rivers, vanished beasts—this is what the madness of the Blessed One had done.

The mobile palace of the invaders lay just off the mountain roads leading into the city. Alloys covered in a layer of rust and traces of festering flesh, and the bright flashes from the tools of engineers disassembling the defeated behemoth created the image of a decaying corpse, maggots burrowing into its belly, bursting with cadaverous gases.

Zeke turned away from the scene. Chosen Prince was dead. There was no point in reminiscing. Despite the early hour, Stonehelm was already awake. Workers were erecting new houses and removing rubble, soldiers stood guard around the city, priests and volunteers were delivering aid to people in distress.

The air defense turrets caught him in their sights, but the oathguard paid them no heed. His four-armed body, covered in a brown carapace, was durable enough to withstand direct hits from both laser beams and mass-reactive shells. The IFF detection system confirmed his identity, allowing him to fly into the city. Zeke waved to the soldiers on the battlements, and they returned the salute. Rottenness, fragments of corpses, and wide gaps no longer disfigured the mighty walls, and a uniform, safety-inspiring gray hue returned to their surface.

The deafening din of rebuilding and the city coming back to life greeted Zeke inside the walls. Merchants opened their stalls; teenagers in white and green uniforms helped volunteers and doctors get to their destinations or showed weary workers the way to their favorite bars. Due to the intensity of the work, the alleys that still existed in the evening, created by enemy artillery fire during the siege, disappeared the next morning. The honking of cars and the steady rumble of engines confirmed that normalcy had returned.

Zeke's heart was pricked by the melodious shimmering ringing of the restored cathedral's new bells. So many men had died in the war that the priests still held funerals to this day. He wanted to be there to pay his respects to his fallen comrades, to say a brief prayer for the fallen civilians and heroic protectors. But he couldn't. Duty demanded his presence elsewhere. His gaze paused briefly at the large mound where those who wanted to destroy this place were buried.

Never forget who we're fighting for. Her voice echoed in Zeke's mind. It's very easy to follow dogma, to become a mindless soldier. It's simple. Nice. Obeying orders brings clarity to our lives, relieves us of responsibility. And here, little Zeke, lies the greatest danger. We joined the army to protect people.

So why did you reject that rule? Zeke thought bitterly.

He began to descend, heading for one of the islands of tranquility in the center of the bustling city. The Iternian Medical Complex had been built in ten days, swallowing the ruins of a church and a destroyed residential area. Zeke hadn't been here, but he'd heard stories of the silvery wave of nanomachines that had swept through the ruins, helping the wounded to leave and then seeming to melt stone and metal to create the foundations for a truly magnificent series of buildings.

Golden serpent emblems of the Barjoni Corporation ringed the snow-white walls, adjacent to the national emblems of a mystical and distant land. Somehow, Iterna's employees created blooming flowerbeds around the hospital, and the pleasant smell of Old World flowers soothed visitors' nerves. At the entrance to the area, as well as at several forks within, stood the shimmering figures of smiling young men who kindly helped guests orient themselves.

Guests, heh... Zeke chuckled. The territory, technology, and even people of the Iterna were fundamentally alien to everything in Stonehelm. A ghost from the past, a phantom from a bygone, more advanced era, had arisen in their home. His sensitive ears picked up a barely audible hum, coming from the holograms and the dozens of small drones that fluttered about the flowerbeds.

One of the visitors, a mutant whose knees were bent backwards, stopped to smell a sunflower. A flexible, bony appendage replaced one of her arms. Suddenly, her left leg slid backward, and the loud crack of a torn muscle reached his ears. The woman swung her humanoid arm awkwardly and lost her balance.

Zeke immediately changed direction, all four of his wings striking the air, giving his body the speed comparable to that of a fired bullet. He swooped down, intending to pick up the woman as she might have hit the rock. However, he was overtaken by two drones that dropped gardening, and a pale light flashed down the middle of their spherical bodies. The woman's fall stopped. Her clothes clung to her body as the force field emitted by the machines gently enveloped her and secured her injured leg.

"Please do not touch the patient, citizen." A hologram of a smiling young man appeared in front of the halted oathguard. "We'll take her directly to the trauma ward."

"Is it in the main building?" Zeke asked. "I'm heading over there. I can take her..."

"No need, Blessed One! Don't bother yourself!" the woman gasped. "I'll crawl there if I have to. My knee bothered me all day yesterday, and yet I was foolish to distract myself with a sunflower." She pursed her gray lips and said quietly: "It reminded me of the days when everything was fine."

"Please calm down and don't worry about trifles. A fascination with flora is quite normal. The consequences of your injury are not your fault." The hologram spoke iridescently as the drones delicately carried the woman away. "Citizen, your help is not required. The force field cocoon is the perfect means of painless transportation."

A ghost? Maybe. Zeke bowed. These holograms were not artificial intelligence, per se. They had no free will. They were mechanisms that obeyed a set of instructions. Still, he didn't mind their presence. Some ghosts brought good things to the table.

Zeke's wings folded behind his back, hiding under the square shields, and the soldier leaped across the paths and flowerbeds, heading directly for the hospital. He landed near the white steps, where a dark-skinned doctor hurried to greet him.

"I thought you were lost," the man laughed good-naturedly and held out his hand. "Hanno Reingold."

"Zeke Bloodrave." The soldier leaned forward and shook the doctor's hand. "You're holding up well for an Iternian, sir. I once had a reporter pass out when I landed next to her."

"Not gonna lie, a month ago I would have been scared of you, Zeke." Hanno smiled and tapped his chitin scute. "But after the bedlam and chaos that happened recently, I'm too busy to be afraid. After me."

Hanno was a Normie—an ordinary man. His brown eyes were clear, his skin clean of scars. Like all Iternians, he looked young, but that meant nothing. Iterna possessed and perfected the technology of the ancients, making rejuvenation technology so cheap that it was freely available to every one of its inhabitants. To these people, the loss of a limb or organ was nothing; their medicine easily cloned any organ. When the corporations of Iterna offered their assistance in rebuilding in exchange for construction contracts, the Oathtakers readily agreed to allow Iterna to open clinics on their lands.

The lands of Iterna were untouched by the ravages of the Glow, thanks to the force shield that protected the country. The people there never experienced the suffering, hunger, and thirst of the others during the Extinction. Their bodies had not been altered; only a few had received the gifts so common in the New World.

Zeke's appearance often scared Normies. His faceted eyes were pools of impenetrable darkness; the sharpest of mandibles replaced his lips. Brown chitin plates covered his four-meter body. The gifts of the Eternal Shifter did not stop with his appearance. Muscles served him instead of bones; his brain was able to accelerate the perception of time, allowing the soldier to see a flying projectile in slow motion. A tactical belt encircled his waist. In one pocket of the belt was an ID card, and in the second was a terminal, a small portable computer that warned the doctor of his arrival.

Walking up the steps of the clinic, Zeke felt a scrutinizing gaze upon him and turned his head to see a man in a strict crimson business suit standing on the second floor of the clinic. Genetic engineering had given this man an impressive stature, his muscles rolling lazily under his clothes as he sipped an ordinary, surprisingly cheap beer from the bottle.

Enrico Barjoni, grandson of the matriarch of the Barjoni Corporation, and co-owner of this hospital. Zeke nodded respectfully to this influential man, whose pupils, shaped like snakes devouring their tails, quickly slid over his body, assessing how well the articulations of natural armor protected the soldier. This Iternian was no doctor.

The two men entered the decontamination chamber that led into the building. The doors closed, cutting off the noise of the city, and a white mist briefly enveloped them, cleansing them of any accidental infection. A second of silence instantly evaporated as Zeke stepped into the main hallway.

"Mommy, please, I don't want to go to the danti… denti… To the healer! They painfully drill my teeth!" A girl begged, tugging at the hem of a woman studying a map. Judging by the golden bone fetishes and unusual golden-red skin, they were refugees from tribes far to the north who had sought sanctuary in the city from the war.

"It's going to be okay, honey. The doctor will give you a shot, and you won't feel a thing," said a passing nurse.

"Mom, did you hear that? They're going to shoot me!" The girl burst into tears.

"What? No, sweetie, I said shot. No one is going to shoot you; a tiny needle will lightly prick you, and…"

"Mommy, they're going to stab me, too! Iternians are evil!"

"Ha! I finally got those rocks! Are Ratcatcher and Vasily awake?" asked a teenager wearing a blue trainee vest.

"Elina! Address your fellow students by their first names!" barked the Iternian explorator.

"I had a wounded shoulder! You healed it, thank you!" A throbbing lump of flesh the size of a small car slapped a tentacle on her shoulder. The girl spoke in clear Common through the beak protruding from her upper body. "Why did you make me come back?"

"You have suspected hypertrophy, young lady," the receptionist replied nonchalantly. " We're going to run an electrocardiogram on you today..."

"Stop! What is hypertrophy?" the Malformed asked suspiciously.

"According to the appointment, ya have heart problems. Congrats," the guy next to her boomed. Zeke initially mistook him for an Insectone, due to his large spider-like body and eight long legs. But then he saw human arms growing out of his underbelly.

Also a Malformed. Unlike mutants, or Blessed like Zeke, all the Malformed differed in appearance, rarely sharing the physical traits of their parents. Their tribes lived in the mountains or deserts and often attacked travelers, ruthlessly tearing them apart and stealing women. Human meat served as their favorite food. Civilized countries despised and hunted the Malformed. But not all of them were incorrigible. During the war, several Malformed tribes took refuge behind the city's walls and assisted in its defense. The savages, stunned by the strength of the president and touched by the gratitude of the inhabitants, swore eternal loyalty to the Oathtakers. Though some of their traditions were unusual, the Malformed obeyed the laws honorably.

"Which one?! I have four of them!"

"Busy day?" Zeke asked the doctor, dodging the kids running by.

"Day? It's been going on since the beginning," Hanno laughed. "The Malformed keep trying to sneak into the morgue, and we've had to post guards outside the cloned organ storage area. The abnormals can't wait to try out their new limbs, and as recently as yesterday, one 'runaway' tried to escape by jumping from the sixth floor. He doesn't care; his legs are strong, but the people suffering from PTSD were triggered when they heard an explosion and a crater suddenly formed in the courtyard. So many different people, everyone needs an individual approach. A Troll's head was delivered to us recently. A living one. Terrorists handiwork. We'd love to clone a new body for him, but his flesh rejects foreign tissue. He's in the emergency room now, and we're supporting his natural regeneration by feeding him nutrients through tubes. His life is in no danger, but if you ever told me I was studying to be a doctor to keep a severed head alive, I'd have said you were crazy. As if that wasn't enough, also the Insectones regularly hide in air shafts..."

"That we do." Zeke's mandibles parted in a smile. The doctor grumbled, but he didn't hear any dissatisfaction in his words, only fatigue and concern for the patients. He liked Hanno.

"Regarding the Insectones," the doctor said as they approached the elevator. Zeke was surprised to see that he could safely step inside without bending down. "We have a problem."

"Kiddo doesn't want to make the imprint?" Zeke asked.

"Yeah." Hanno pressed the third floor button. "Kid was brought to us in bad shape. A punctured lung, four legs missing, blind in both eyes, pus accumulated in his lungs because of the damn plague... We fixed it all up, and at first it was perfect. He was eating, drinking, having fun, practicing his new limbs. And then everything went to hell because of the resurrected freak." The doctor glanced at him. "Try to help him. We're keeping him on medication to dull the pain. But I've pulled up the archives. Insectones die of loneliness."

Zeke said nothing to that. The Oathtakers and Iterna had fought in the past decades ago. Stuff happened in war. The Iternians didn't know about the peculiarities of the Insectoid Commune when they scattered the prisoners into cells. Many Trolls had been subjected to various drugs or even torture because their jailers couldn't believe that these people didn't express emotions.

Even he felt the consequences of the lack of an established imprint. Non-existent fingers tapped at the back of his brain, alternating with surges of mild panic. Something seemed to say that he'd forgotten something important, that he was alone, cut off from friends and family. Zeke had grown accustomed to ignoring this distraction.

They came out on the floor of the pediatric ward. The walls here were painted a pleasant shade of orange, and young patients played video games while waiting their turn. Not all were accompanied by their parents; the war had claimed many, and the state had provided guardians for young orphans. These talented volunteers kept a watchful eye on their charges, talking to them to keep them from drowning in grief or engaging them in games with their peers.

Why am I here? Zeke once again pondered that question. He was an oathguard, one of two hundred elite soldiers in his country's service. Regular rejuvenation injections kept him in the prime of his youth; just recently, his unit had served under the command of General Crawler, and they had crushed the last enemy stronghold in the north...

Then came the betrayal, and Zeke was recalled. The elders of the commune gave him the task of helping at the hospital while his link trained, preparing for future battles. He looked at his large hand, remembering his childhood, the endless hours of study in the temple. Back then, his godfather had always taken the time to visit him, cheering up the dejected teen. But after what happened, Godfather Abel didn't even write to him.

Do they trust me? Zeke was sure he was trusted, or he would have been arrested. Godfather served as Stonehelm's acting governor, so his silence was not surprising. Every day, the city overcame a heap of problems, encountering a pile of new obstacles the following day. Hunger, lack of drinking water, disease, crime, scammers, predators... The godfather managed to solve everything. His great-aged nephew's problems could wait, and Zeke loved his uncle for that. The Eternal Shifter gave them the power to save and protect the weak.

But the nagging voice in his head bothered Zeke every night. Doubts gnawed at him; uncertainty gave rise to a slight tremor in the morning. He came from her clutch; he remembered the gentle hands that helped him out of the egg. The songs she sang gave him sleep without nightmares, and the words of encouragement gave him confidence that he could become the champion of his people.

A confidence he no longer felt. Zeke had been nurtured by the lessons of the oathguards and her lessons. If she lost her way, did that mean he was about to stumble and be led astray? If he missed such a monstrous crime right under his nose, could he trust himself? He didn't dare share his fears with the link, too worried that his mother's vice might be hiding in him.

I would rather die than harm the people under my protection. Zeke swore and walked to the door of the hospital room. His doubts, his fears, could go to hell. A young life needed help, and he would do everything in his power to give that life a chance.

 

[Rookie12]

"Rick? It's Hanno. I have a guest for you." The doctor knocked lightly on the door of the ward. "Is it okay if we come in?"

"I don't care." There was a clacking of mandibles.

"Great, then you won't mind if I sit with you for a while." Zeke took the initiative, raising his hand to stop Hanno. He had heard such a dull and lifeless tone in the past from both Normies and the Blessed when they lost someone dear to their hearts. Zeke opened the door and whistled. "It's like being in a tower again!"

He had expected to see a spacious, brightly lit room similar to all the others in the hospital. But the builders of Iterna had outdone themselves, creating a cramped, dark place where the walls threatened to crush anyone who entered. Noise from outside barely reached here, and Zeke had to move his chitinous shields to fit into the room. He immediately loved this place.

All humans were different, and the Insectones were no exception. Their builders had constructed magnificent towers that stretched several kilometers deep and rose several hundred meters above the surface. Built from a unique blend of stone and biological material, these were communities where the Zike people huddled in unimaginable close quarters. Interconnected corridors shaped after an enormous honeycomb formed its interior, and during celebrations, rows of Insectones would run up and down, singing praises to their god. The smallest of them, the larvae, had to ride their parents or mentors, as their carapace was yet too gentle to endure an occasional friendly nudge.

In the early days of their nation, when Normies often took refuge in towers during raids, many of them experienced panic from claustrophobia to the surprise of Insectones crawling freely on the walls and ceiling. Why would anyone need even more space? Out of respect for their quirky friends, the Insectones created spacious domes in the depths and on top of the towers to serve as refuge, common play areas, and meeting rooms. When there were no guests, these domes stood empty; the free space unnerved the Insectones.

And now the Normies have returned the favor by creating comfortable quarters for the unusual patients.

Rick was the sole occupant of this place. He hadn't yet changed from his larva form, and the kid lay by leaning his back against pillows and furiously assembling a Rubik's cube using his six stork-like limbs that ended in small hooks. His mandibles twitched and spasmed, betraying the desperate need for an imprint. Strands of hair growing along his limbs and in-between the carapace's joints had a withered appearance, despite a full bowl of sugared water standing beside the boy. At the very least, there was no trace of excrement in the air. No matter what Rick was going through, he had a sense of self-worth enough not to sink into debasement.

"I'm just going to stretch my weary legs a bit." Zeke seated himself to the left of the boy and put his upper hands behind his head. He nodded for Hanno to close the door. "Name's Zeke Bloodrave, you?"

"Rick. Za… Just Rick now." The boy's arms convulsed, and the cube flew off them. It bounced off the wall, and Zeke caught it and handed it back. "Thanks. Is this going to be as usual? As in 'you have to make an imprint' usual? If so, don't waste your time, mister. There is no point in any of that."

"And why is there no point?" Zeke asked.

"Because… We'll die," Rick coughed. "Gramps was the lucky one; he died of old age, worried about me and my brother and sisters to the end, told us not to worry... Except we had to worry, he's gone." He slammed the cube into the table. "Then the war came, and a shell hit the tower, and Dad…" The heavy lids closed over his compound eyes. "They're gone now, joined the Eternal Shifter. Little sisters, dad, mom, grandma, my friends, everyone I know. Brother told me to hold on, to believe… But there is the sense in any of that?!" Rick opened his eyes and yelled into Zeke's face. "My family never hurt anyone; they were good, awesome people, and they didn't come back; the bastard who did it did! He came back, and he snatched my brother away from me! I can't… How am I supposed to go on if everyone keeps disappearing?" Rick slapped at Zeke's hand. "Don't… don't touch me. I already told the doctors; they are free to use my organs. Just end it."

"I know how you feel," Zeke said, no longer trying to comfort the kid and giving him space.

"You do?" Rick asked suspiciously.

"My mother's gone," Zeke admitted. "She was sort of helicopter mom, even after dad passed away. Always there to back me up and to listen to my worries. Kept trying to give me pocket money," he laughed, remembering his embarrassment and the friendly teasing of his Link afterwards. "And strong too! Her rank had given her free access to the rejuvenation procedures, and I thought she'd be by my side forever. But then…" A darkness passes over his face, and Zeke decided to omit some details. "She made a mistake. A horrible, unforgivable mistake, and she paid the ultimate price for it. There is a gaping hole in my chest. I never truly understood how much I cherished our terminal calls and small conversations about the simplest of things until she was gone, Rick."

"Sorry, Zeke," Rick mumbled. "It isn't fair what had happened."

"There is no fairness, Rick." Zeke shook his head. Images of past heroes and dead comrades flashed before his eyes. "Priests speak that our blessings are passed on to us by the Eternal Shifter, and I truly believe it. But I don't believe in karmic retribution. So many have died who deserve to live. So many have lived with their crimes for far too long. The world is an empty canvas, and we are judged in the afterlife by the marks we leave upon it."

"Then…" Rick stopped, pondering. "What is the point of anything? Why go on if you know there is no reason for anything? That there is no higher power watching over you?"

"Because doing otherwise is to accept their justice." Zeke's mandibles clicked. "Those who think it is okay to trample upon the weak, harmless, and vulnerable. To let their lawlessness, their worldview, prevail. Screw it, I say." He reached out for the boy, and this time Rick allowed him to pat him on the limb. "They are wrong. They misuse their gifts, thinking that might give them right, yet humanity, without fail, denies them. Even when the Extinction came and the society was destroyed, when we lost so many lives, when the cosmos itself slipped from our grasp… We rebuilt. Iterna, the Reclamation Army, and the Land of the Oath differ in our views, but kindness and care are universal. The ideas of good men endure long after their deaths, while the legacies of the wicked are taught as cautionary tales in schools, if not forgotten. The actions of the countless cannibalistic monsters of the early days of Extinction have faded. Everyone honors Hive's hard work. I know it is hard. It is so painful. But there are roads still for you to walk. Don't let Chosen Prince's brutality win. Embrace the ideals of your family and live on."

"An explorator said similar words to me recently." Rick clicked and shifted, standing on his bed. He reached a meter in length and his body had an oval shape covered by the overlapping plates. "He told me I could help by making sure no one else suffered as I had."

"A wise, but scarred man," Zeke remarked. "Rick, you are under no obligation to live such a future. Everyone is equally important to society."

"But can I?" Rick faced him. "Can I become a protector?"

"I don't know," Zeke answered. "Your future is for you to shape, and a soldier's lot is not for everyone. On the other hand, you can be a fireman. Or a policeman, keeping order and protecting people. Even a doctor is not out of the question. A priest can help to heal souls. Or say screw it and go into IT. So many paths are waiting for you, unexplored, and you don't have to stick to one, you can always change. Please. Dare to believe, Rick. Do what your family would have wanted you to do, not what Chosen Prince desired for you."

"I have no idea where to start," Rick admitted.

"That's why I am here!" Zeke smiled. "To offer guidance and a shoulder to lean on."

"Promise?"

"I give you my oath, Rick."

A stinking, thick mass shot out of the boy's mouth and splattered over Zeke's finger. The Oathguard responded in kind, leaving his imprint on the boy's shoulder. To the Insectones, an imprint was more than just a scent mark. Their sense of smell didn't rival that of Wolfkins', but an invisible link connected the two as the liquid disappeared beneath their armor and etched itself into their blood. No matter how many years passed, it would remain, and once they were within a kilometer of each other, the two would soon be aware of their proximity.

Rick exhaled, no longer trembling but rather in relaxation, as the tension let go of his muscles. Zeke drew himself high and tapped on the boy's forehead. His own irritation vanished, washed away by an established imprint.

"First step done, now the other. Get eight hours of sleep, then either join the kids in the playroom, watch TV, or read a book. Any book will do, even erotica, if you can sneak it in here."

"Can I eat?" Rick asked nervously, glancing at the bowl.

"Should!" Zeke agreed, cursing himself for not thinking of it sooner. "Eat, drink, sleep, have fun. I'll visit you tomorrow, and we'll begin your mending."

He patted the boy and left the room, letting Hanno take over. That went way better than I had hoped. Zeke admitted to himself. He probably should have kept his nihilistic worldview to himself, since it bordered on heresy and Rick had taken the Oath. There was no mistake about it.

The Oath, the once obligatory sacrifice given by every Oathtaker, united them in a different way. They saw an aura around another faithful, a trace of power set into motion by the nation's founder. It sheared off a bit of free will: a nagging voice always warning them not to raise a hand against a fellow citizen, not to steal, and so on. It was the ultimate sacrifice, and Zeke was surprised that someone as young as Rick made it. The government tried to keep the youth untroubled until the age of eighteen, when they could make a conscious decision. Perhaps the boy's family was too pious.

A beep from his terminal distracted his thoughts. Zeke read the message, ordering him to meet an Army representative in a street outside the hospital gates in fifteen minutes. It was unusual; the elders of the commune had put the task of aiding young Rick to the utmost importance. Was it another way of blindsiding him? Were they worried that he too could have harbored dark desires as his mother, and thus they kept Zeke distracted so he could not compromise the mission?

It is ridiculous, Zeke! Stop wallowing in your self-pity and act. An unexpected development happened, that's all. He chastised himself, still confused about such a short information.

He returned to the first floor, briefly sending an apology to Doctor Hanno about his earlier departure and stumbled upon an unusual Iternian on his way to the exit. The man wore a long coat and was dressed in an azure uniform, with silver comets dotting his collars. His hair was cut short, and his skin was paler than any human Zeke had ever seen.

"I didn't believe my siblings, but wouldn't you know it, an oathguard!" The man smiled warmly, offering his hand, and the soldier shook it, noticing the keen interest in his eyes. "Eduardo, from the Intelligence. Can I have your autograph for little Esmi? Not to be rude, but she is a fan of the Insectones and you saved her butt in Birchshell."

"How did you know about my involvement in that operation?" Zeke asked plainly.

"It is my job, Zeke." Eduardo avoided the question.

Someone had ratted out. It wasn't possible to discern one oathguard from another. When they marched to war, the links were indistinguishable from one another, and his link was forbidden from speaking during the Battle of Birchshell on the general's orders. But why did Eduardo give him this information essentially for free? What was he standing to gain from it?

"So you are a brother whose Iternians we helped in Birchshell, huh? Those guys are heroes. If not for them, the hostages would've died." He sized up the strange man. "But it troubles me to see kids in war. Are child soldiers the norm in Iterna?"

"I assure you they are not!" The agent raised his hands. "I almost had a stroke when I heard about them being hurt here and there. Anyway, about that autograph?"

"Look, I'd love to, but I don't have a pen or anything to write on…" A pen and a book slipped into the agent's hands, and Zeke sighed. He took the book first and chuckled at the picture of an oathguard wielding four missile launchers. Right out of Liliana's ideas. Zeke skimmed through the book, which ended up being an encyclopedia about his kind. "Half of the mess in there is hearsay," he said and wrote his name, a thank you to the Iternian kids and a warning that the book contained lies. "We accept the vow of celibacy prior to joining, so sexual preferences and mating seasons are nonexistent."

"Hah, well, there are still blind spots in Iterna's knowledge. Thank you so much for the gift; my sister will treasure it dearly." Eduardo smiled, taking the book back. "Oh! There's something that was bugging me. Is it true that the Oathguards are as strong as skinwalkers?"

Zeke blinked as the memories flooded back. A vast desert, littered with jagged rocks and bleached bones. Insectoids, ravenous insects, regularly swept through this area, often preying on lone travelers or the wounded. Even at night, the temperature was so high that people had to wear anti-heat suits to avoid dehydration, and being out in the sunlight during the day could result in burns. There were treasures hidden beneath the seas of sand and compressed rock. Laboratories of the Old World, containing remnants of its wonders.

It was there, while assisting a recovery mission, that he faced it. It had the visage of a distorted, naked woman, whose hands ended up in bladed talons. The thing twitched and twisted, breaking its own bones and tearing muscles for its own amusement. The amber eyes in the furless wolfish head never looked away from him.

"Curious buggy…" it sang in a female voice, and then it was on him, breaking the stone with its back, drooling, and snapping its fangs thunderously over his neck.

Its hooked claws found their way between his plates, and Zeke experienced pain. He'd thought himself invulnerable to harm; he'd thought nothing could penetrate his hardened exoskeleton and muscle tissue. This horror proved him wrong, drawing white ichor from his pinned arms, and the soldier's fingers found his plasma cannon.

He pressed the button, overloading it, creating a brilliant flash that engulfed him and the horror. To escape.

Zeke shook his head, sensing alien eyes watching the unfolding events along with him.

"You are probing me," he accused the man, remembering the temple's lessons. Mind reading—what an annoying ability. The man wasn't just giving up information, he was fishing for certain memories to surface. "How did you know I was there?"

"We didn't," Eduardo assured him. "Our satellites picked up a fierce battle in the Ravaged Lands. It is rare for a skinwalker not to retreat after the first wounds, and doubly so for the Oathtakers to persist in extraction, ignoring the chance that the Reclaimers would discover you. What was in those ruins?"

"No idea," Zeke lied.

Now that he knew about the nature of the man's blessing, everything was easier. His fight against the skinwalker was a vivid experience, which forced itself upon the soldier against his will. For many nights afterwards, he stared into the darkness, remembering the promise it had given him, even though he knew the beast's nature. It lied. Its kind always lied for fun. But the contents of their package. Well, it was a mundane thing, easily capable of being submerged and locked in a shell composed of less valuable memories. He flooded the man's head with visions of starvation victims, and Eduardo frowned.

"Fair… fair point," he picked a power-suppressing pill from a pocket and swallowed it, turning off his power for hours. "My deepest apologies. Hate leaving cases unsolved."

"The Oathtakers mean no harm to Iterna or anyone else," Zeke said slowly. "But we do not appreciate intrusions on our hospitality, Eduardo. Behave, or I'll kick you out."

How much did he gain? There was no question that the agent had read about his mother, so what could Iterna do with this kind of information? Blackmail? Impossible.

"Will do, sir! And if you ever decide to immigrate to a more… Understood, understood." Eduardo quickly conceded his suggestion at the sight of the glowering Zeke. "Iterna wishes your country and you all the best. Good things are bound to happen after your brave assistance!"

"I don't believe in karma, sir," Zeke said, walking past him.

"Too bad! Karma is a persistent hunter." Eduardo told into his back. "What comes around, goes around."

Zeke stepped outside of the hospital's walls, and a sense of familiarity washed over him. It wasn't emanating from the sight of the standing palace or from the din of the rebuilding works. This feeling was far more ancient, calm, nearly cold in its assurance, and at the same time so adamantly loyal. Zeke's wings beat, lifting him to the sky, and the soldier nearly forgot his dignity as he raced to the person who waited near the closed bar on a street awaiting a reconstruction.

Uncle.

Abel Bloodrave was a gorgeous figure, bedecked in power armor of gold and purple. He stood on three legs, holding the broken one closer to his torso, and his membranous wings, larger and softer than Zeke's, created the image of a tattered purple cape flowing from his shoulders. His armor was a work of art; every joint moved soundlessly, and twin antennas protruded from the helmet, hiding the natural ones inside. The chest plate seamlessly went into the lower part, not hindering bending in the slightest, and officer's medals were fashioned into the spheres on the chest plate.

The governor's had two working hands, one smaller than the other due to an ancient trauma that occurred shortly before the transformation and resulted in a mutation. Four spikes, underdeveloped limbs, were folded over and under his arms, ready to stab. The wounds inflicted by his sister still bothered him, and the governor used his mace for a walking stick, holding an augmented, beautiful mutant woman dressed in a guide's uniform by the neck in his smaller hand.

"If this endangers little ones in any way…" Abel Bloodrave's voice came from the dynamics in the sides of his helmet. Even though he almost suffocated the frightened person, he sounded rational and dispassionate.

"Am I intruding on something, Governor?" Zeke wrapped his hand around his uncle's wrist, and the governor released the mutant.

"Merely a debate about the feasibility of attracting additional funds for the restoration efforts." Abel's lenses flickered, focusing on Zeke, who helped the woman to stand steady. "This criminal was offered community service to pay for her offences. In her spare time, this blogger pesters my office with requests and finally caught me here, spewing her inane ideas into my ears."

"Not a blogger, an influencer." The young woman dusted off her uniform. "And my ideas are very solid; don't be jealous. Still in the top fifty in the views around the Net in Iterna, Reclamation Army, and here, I'll have you know."

"You filmed yourself working." Abel accused her.

"Yes! It wasn't forbidden by my plea deal." The woman beamed. "Anyway, we…"

"We?"

"… know that we don't have enough resources to treat every war orphan, not by a long shot; it is why you are sending them off into the Reclaimers' built orphanages. The nation's support only goes so far." She tried to walk around Abel, gesticulating, and Zeke grabbed her by the collar, holding the excited woman in place. "What about non-government? Let the public help!"

"The Oathtakers people are already…"

"Not talking about 'em!" the guide interrupted Abel again. "Not sure if you old-timers have noticed, but the world is interconnected nowadays. Goods from our land go to Iterna and the Reclamation Army, and vice versa. Let them help in full. Who knows, maybe even Pearl will toss in some aid. Let's pitch how it is everywhere using the Net and TV; make a sob story. People love feeling righteous, feeling like they are a part of something, so let's use society to help. And I promise to protect the children's image. Hell, we can even be picky about their future parents, ain't that cool?" She pressed her fists into her sides and swallowed nervously. "How about that? If I f-fail, h-hang me; if I succeed, give me the position of a media expert."

"We were planning to hang you for staging public disruptions and baiting others into committing physical assaults." Abel looked down at her. "And now you want to work for us."

"There is a bitch I simply have to outdo." The woman scratched her temple, exposing the expensive golden augmetics running down her forearms. "And kids need help. I hadn't my head set right before. My bad."

"Into my car. We will discuss your plans and limitations on the way to the palace, Influencer." Abel pointed to the nearby all-terrain transport and turned to Zeke. "Oathguard. Nephew. It's good to see you in fine health."

"Thank you, Governor." Zeke bowed.

"Acting governor." Abel tapped on the ground using his mace. "I wasn't elected by anyone and will relinquish my authority as soon as possible."

"The people of the city may disagree."

"Then they are fools," Abel said bluntly. "They praise me for my ability to murder and manage crises, but what about building the economy and future? Army commanders make bad civilian workers. Take this influencer. I do not know how important she is, but it is my cabinet that will have to decide on a plan that will affect the fate of the little ones. Anyway, your thoughts on the matter are not important. We have a situation."

"Someone is in danger?" Zeke straightened up immediately.

"Yes. We received reports of large groups of people disappearing. We thought of slavers, but the kidnappers ignored healthy citizens in favor of individuals possessing unique genetic anomalies or powers."

"Bio-Tinkers?"

"No. They swore their innocence, and our spies confirmed it." Abel's lenses examined the ruins in an antique shop. "A mercenary group, previously clean, is responsible for it. The Ice Fangs spotted them loading hostages into an army truck and gave chase. While I deeply appreciate Sword Saint Bertruda assistance in our dire times, a show of force is needed. I have decided to send a link. Your commander had already communicated with the nearby Mountaineers' unit for the upcoming ambush. I called you directly since the elders put you to another task. The details are on your terminal. End this group, rescue the hostages, take prisoners so we can find out where our people went." His lenses flashed. "Be careful. These mercenaries had an impeccable record, often helping to hunt down slave traders. For them to become ones, to resort to kidnapping is unusual."

Do the elders trust me? Zeke wanted to ask and shut his mandibles. What a childish thing to ask. He was entrusted with a child's life; what greater show of confidence could he possibly need? And there were bigger things to worry about. Instead, he said: "Acting Governor, I met an Iternian in the hospital…"

Abel listened to the report calmly and then nodded. "It seems that our guest has a bizarre understanding of privacy. He will sit on the pills, or he will be asked to leave if he can't behave in a civilized manner like his younger siblings."

"Uncle," Zeke said, stopping Abel from heading to his transport. "About Mom. If I had known about the betrayal, I'd stopped her. Do you believe me?"

"Of course," Abel replied dispassionately.

Zeke struggled to believe him. Because he could not find it in himself to hate Eva.

"Link Voss, Liliana, reporting for duty!" a cheerful voice brought him back to reality. "Reports say our kidnappers are using armored transports. Should I bring missile launchers of plasma cannons, sir?"

"Negative, Liliana," answered the link commander, Voss. "We have hostages on site, so precision is the key. Laser rifles."

"Malerata Summerspring, knight-captain in the employ of the Mountaintop household. I pledge my unit to this task," a panting voice joined in. "We are hounding the villains up the mountain range."

"And our welcome party is already prepared," a male voice laughed.

"Stick to the plan, Sergeant Venusto," a hint of concern appeared in Malerata's words. "Simply collapse the section of road and avoid direct engagement. Your soldiers do not have adequate protection to survive a prolonged firefight…"

"Let the Mountaineers do our job, lassie, and I won't tell the order how to do theirs," chuckled Venusto. "I would hate to force our dear guests to tire themselves out."

"Lassie? I am older than you, sir," Malerata said.

"Then don't strain your back, grandma."

"Link Voss, Zeke, reporting for duty. Peace, brothers and sisters," Zeke interjected. "Honorable Malerata, the Oathtakers are greatly appreciating your aid in the rescue mission. I am sure that Sergeant Venusto will do his utmost to keep his and your troops safe."

"Oh yeah, not a pebble will fall on you." There was a sound of a lit cigarette following Venusto's words.

"It will be an honor to witness the Mountaineers in action," Malerata said politely. "But what about Link Voss? You are three hundred kilometers away. Will you be able to arrive in time?"

"Naturally," Voss assured her. "Zeke will rendezvous with us at these coordinates. Joined Reclaimers-Oathtakers mission begins."

The wings showed from under the chitin plates, and Zeke leapt into the air, rising above the city and streaking across the sky, picking up speed to meet his comrades and reach the battle.

 

[Rookie12]

He met Voss and Liliana on the way to their destination and received a long laser rifle from his link partner. Unlike the more destructive plasma cannons, these weapons didn't have a back-mounted generator, and Zeke hastily tucked spare power cells into the pockets of his belts. The Link spoke little; the time for that would come later. From now on, their every thought and attention was focused on the mountain range growing in the distance.

Their unlikely allies were correct in their assessment of the hostile force. Zeke had expected to see ten, fifteen vehicles at the very most. But there were sixty heavily modified armored all-terrain transports climbing up the road that led deeper into the mountains. The trucks' wheels had been replaced with caterpillar tracks, armor plating had been welded over already solid frames, and turrets sprouted from each APC, firing at the white- and orange-clad pursuers. Zeke's ears picked up the roar of the engines, and his eyes narrowed at the familiar din of army-grade equipment that shouldn't have been available to the mercenaries. Where did they get this stuff?

Questions for later. He chastised himself, no longer surprised. His mother had supplied the Numbers with the Oathtakers' drilling engines. Perhaps there was another traitor at large.

The Ice Fangs followed in the column's wake. These Blessed hailed from the land of the Reclamation Army, an ever-expanding state seeking world domination. The Oathtakers fought them many times, and many lives were lost on both sides until it became clear that neither side could achieve complete victory and survive. Since then, the two nations have called a truce, and, amazingly, the dread Dynast sent his forces to assist in the direst day of the Land of the Oath.

Their Blessed, known as the Ice Fangs, had an anthropomorphic wolfish visage. Bedecked in heavy battleplates, their defenders advanced, wielding tower shields, protecting the rows of knights behind them. Hunters, skilled pathfinders of the Ice Fang Order in lighter models of power armor, climbed onto the rocks, trying to find a place to use their long-range weapons, but the escapees had no intention of being pinned down.

"Link Voss, in place!" Voss said. "Venusto, begin."

"Aye, aye!"

Suddenly, a series of flashes raced down the mountain trail ahead of the mercenaries, and Zeke's eyes widened. The Mountaineers were famous for their skill in fighting in uneven terrain and for setting perilous traps for the foes seeking to sneak into the country. Normies served in their ranks, and in his hubris, Zeke often thought their accomplishments were exaggerated, since his Link had never had the honor of fighting a campaign alongside them. Today he was illuminated on his mistake, as an entire plateau slipped off its place and crashed onto the road, sealing off the escape route.

The mercenaries came to a halt; their ranks split to form two even walls, one facing the Ice Fang and the other the avalanche. Mortars appeared atop the APCs, and figures in black uniforms rained down hell on the supposed position of the Mountaineers. Immediately, bursts of gunfire came from the hidden crevices and caves, wounding the opposition and forcing them to duck. Sergeant Venusto and his men had no intention of sitting this one out.

"Thin," Voss ordered, flying closer over the convoy.

Zeke and Liliana obeyed his command and took aim, firing down brilliant beams of heat. From a distance, the Link members were indistinguishable. They were the same height and width; two of their four arms held long, black, thin-barreled rifles. Shots bounced harmlessly off their chitin; their perceptive eyes saw through the thickest smog, delivering the retribution onto the criminals. But they differed in personality.

Voss and Zeke both fired cautiously, lancing heads and shearing turrets from the APCs. The laser rifles mandated for the Oathguards unleased superheated narrow beams. Whatever it touched vaporized; when it struck the rocky surface, the beam traveled several meters downward. Concern for the hostages held the soldiers' hands. Liliana, the Link's weapons expert, had taken a more daring approach. With pinpoint accuracy, her beams sliced off the tops of the bodies, setting off the mercenaries' grenades. The ensuing explosions rocked nearby vehicles, casting off the firing crews, and knocked people off their feet.

"Not hearing anything yet, not even a yelp," Liliana stated, turning her head to the side and firing blindly.

"For the Dynast and the Mountaintop Household!" came a roar as the Ice Fangs closed the distance.

The defenders dragged their tower shields across the ground, shutting down their weak force shields in time to ram the mercenaries into the APCs. Their ranks spread out, and a figure in shining knight's armor surged forward, leading her troops into battle. A long yellow cape flowed from Malerata's shoulder pads, a crimson crest over her helmet; she blocked incoming shots with a shield, and the claymore in her arm sang through the air, bisecting legs and arms.

"Trample them underfoot!" the knight captain yelled, kicking her leg unusually high for a person in power armor. Her leg came down, cratering a mercenary. "It's all over, filth! Those wishing to see the dawn drop your weapons."

Intense gunfire answered them. Armor-piercing bullets carved lines in the white plates; explosions set the knights' capes ablaze; an occasional shot brought a knight to his knees as a bullet found its way past the lenses of his helmet, and the mercenaries kept trying to hold the line. Utterly silently. There were no screams, no pleas for mercy, no cheers. These people acted like automatons wrapped in human flesh.

A flash of red hit the boulders, blocking the convoy's path. It came from a single man in a gray coat; one of his eyes was hidden behind an eyepatch, and an orb of red served him for eye. Under his assault, the boulder cracked in two, and the man stepped ahead, firing at another.

"Fionn, a Blessed One capable of releasing energy projectiles from his eye," Voss identified the man. According to the available information, the mercenary company only had two Blessed in their ranks: Fionn, who acted as second-in-command, and Captain Beitiris, whose Blessing gave her the ability to turn her fingers into fleshy whips as hard as iron. "Mine."

Voss rifle moved, and Fionn screamed in pain as the beam severed his leg, leaving the foot on the ground and burning everything up to the knee. The man tried to keep his balance as the Oathguard swooped down, slamming him to the ground, and wrapped his hand over Fionn's face, blocking the energy splashes.

He screamed in pain. Zeke noticed.

"Keep doing this and you'll only hurt yourself," Voss said calmly to the struggling man firing into his palm. "Fionn, answer me what drove you to this heresy and where are…"

"You dare?" Zeke heard the rasping voice of the wounded man thanks to the communications. "You dare to defile one of God's chosen? Raising an arm at one? You are not the one, but I'll expunge you all the same."

Crimson lines appeared on Fionn's skin, his tan quickly darkening, the curves and smoothness disappearing in favor of roughness. Voss was still holding his head when Fionn's entire body came apart, separated by the red lines. His sliced foot tore at the remains of his boot, and the stream of floating pieces, which together looked more like the molted bark of a tree somehow hardened into the shape of a human body, swirled around Voss. A crimson flare flashed amid the pieces, and Voss was thrown back.

"God sees all!" Fionn announced, reconstructing his body; his missing leg healed, and his burning eye moved to the center of his forehead. "Witness his gifts!" Another beam linked the two men, and Voss' ammunition exploded as he threw his arms up to shield his face. The impact knocked him back, even though his toes were stuck in the ground. "Feel his might!" Another beam pulled Voss away, and Fionn followed, laughing.

Away from the nearby APCs. An energy beam fired by Voss struck Fionn in the chest, but the heat only dissipated over his new, larger body and was sucked into the crimson lines.

"Weak, feeble, pathetic!" The crimson eye flashed again and again, sending Voss closer to the edge. "He desires your death! He wishes you to cease breathing! God demands that your kind go extinct!"

"Your blasphemy has gone far enough," Voss said as the blast sent him to the very edge.

He sprang into action from the crater of the last explosion. The incoming energy beam flowed harmlessly over his chitin body, and Voss slammed his fist into Fionn's head, knocking it cleanly off. The headless body clawed at the Link leader, and he grabbed it and threw it to the ground, stomping on the pieces before they could separate. This time there was no swirling mist around the Oathguard; Fionn's body disintegrated and closed over Voss like soot. A red light washed over the soldier, and then he disappeared in the explosion that shook the ground and collapsed part of the road down.

"Liliana, keep the enemies from clearing the rubble," Zeke said after Voss' terminal was destroyed. Their leader lived; already he was rising from the crater to face against the reformed Fionn. "I am going in the middle."

"Don't do anything stupid," Liliana chuckled.

Voss will win; Zeke had no doubt of it. Already he could see a crack on Fionn's head. Whatever the man was, his blessing did not give him an invulnerability to the old-fashioned blunt trauma, and there were very few people in the world better suited to deal it than they were. There was also little chance that the mercenaries would be able to clear the rubble. But the worry of leaving a dear person alone made him send Liliana closer to Voss.

Zeke came down, stomping on the heads of two mercenaries and killing them instantly. His rifle fired, leaving a hole in the third; he punched, taking limbs and shattering bones. The mercenaries wore simple body armor, helmets, and dark clothing underneath. But even full power armor would not have saved them, not from his blows. The Eternal Shifter granted his faithful the oathguards, the perfect tool of destruction and protection, nearly immune to every conceivable power and weapon born of technological advancement.

"Surrender!" He grabbed a woman whose arms he had shattered. She tried to kick him. "It's over," he said into her maddeningly calm eyes. "Your war is over. Stop resisting, and we can treat…"

She disappeared in a red haze as another soldier fired a grenade launcher at her. Zeke spun and kicked, shattering the soldier's leg. The screaming man fell, rolling to an APC, and the Oathguard stopped.

"You are…"

"An observant bug. You weren't supposed to notice yet." The man stopped screaming and sprang off the ground using his hands. In mid-air, his left arm grew in size and burst through his clothing; the flesh hardened, and Zeke was surprised by the force behind the blow as he caught it on his palms.

Zeke fired, but the laser hit harmlessly on the overlapping plates growing on the soldier's chest. His broken legs reformed, growing into short columns of unknown material. The man's head changed, his jaws jutting forward, his skull stretching backward to form a triangle. The ears sank into the skull, and the person rapidly grew in muscle mass, easily matching Zeke's height. Wet pops from bones pushing into the new alignment filled the air. Eyes sunk deep into the skull, changing to two burning orbs of pale yellow, and the nose became a flat triangle over solidified skin. The Oathguard aimed his weapon at the open jaws and fired as his opponent roared a challenge.

"Tasty." The Blessed One swallowed the beam and exhaled steam through his nose. "God watches over his Godsworn."

He punched with his free hand, breaking the laser rifle and throwing Zeke against the APC with enough force to dent its entire side in. Strong arms grabbed Zeke's legs and dragged him from the wrecked vehicle across the battlefield as shots from both sides landed near them. Zeke blocked a punch aimed at his head and countered with three fists. It didn't even leave a crack; the man's new skin was like an impregnable Oathguard shell, and the soldier kicked up, hitting the Blessed's stomach and pushing him up, allowing Zeke to barrel roll to freedom.

Once again, the black beast barely noticed the attack and hurried after Zeke, swinging his arms and sending the APCs flying with every missing blow.

"Hard-pressed, sir?" Venusto asked. "Want us to get close and light up the bastard?"

"Zeke, do you need help?" Liliana asked.

Zeke hesitated and took a heavy blow that sent him stumbling. His natural armor held there was no damage to his insides. He should be able to hold his own, and if by some chance Voss was in trouble because Liliana was not there to help, or if he called fire on his position and his allies suffered from exposing themselves…

"Negative, everything is under control," he responded. No one will die because of him.

"Control?" The Blessed One laughed, wrapping his arms around Zeke's torso and lifting him in the air. The soldier gasped, feeling his plates tighten and the strain touch his organs. "What could you possibly do? I am one with God!"

"Not… yet…" Zeke said, and his upper hands grabbed the triangular head, twisting it to the side. The pressure increased, while his opponent just growled, amused by what he thought was an attempt to break his neck.

He was wrong, but he never lived long enough to understand it. The wing casings opened, and Zeke's wings beat the wind with all their might, creating the NOISE. It wasn't just noise, but sound waves of such frequency that they could shatter metal and bone to dust. A natural sonic weapon. And this deadly sound entered the Blessed One's ear, ruptured the eardrum, and continued on, reaching the brain and liquefying it.

"Now you are," Zeke said mercilessly as the hold around his body weakened and the Blessed One went limp. He faced the mercenaries, unnerved by the lack of expression in their eyes and the complete disregard for their wounds. "Your champion has fallen," he said, his voice booming loudly through the gunfire. "Desist! Come to your senses…"

Something slithered underground, something big and strong enough to make the APCs tremble. Zeke cried out in warning of the movement as the ground exploded around him and tendrils wrapped around his ankles. The Oathguard was ripped from his feet unceremoniously as the unknown attacker dragged him through the air and slammed him to the ground. Darkness filled his eyes as dirt and rock filled everything in sight, and he was dragged deeper underground. Zeke tried to reach for the tendrils and found more closing in on his wrists. One wrapped around his neck and he was pulled up through the tons of rock. He erupted from the ground, tangled in the tendrils, and his flight was instantly halted as someone slammed him to the ground, knocking the air out of his lungs.

"Predictable," said a deep and assuring voice. It sounded like two smooth stone balls rolling over each other. A shadow covered Zeke, and he saw an oversized head floating in the air. The woman's face was distorted, her smile reaching into the air, and her hair now merged with the cluster of tentacles that served as her limbs and body. But he still recognized her. Beitiris MacÙisdein, the leader of the mercenary unit and the prime suspect in the kidnappings.

"What happened to you, Beitiris?" Zeke asked. He didn't panic. There was no damage to his body, and by engaging him, this Blessed One was unable to harm his allies. His muscles shifted, tensing and releasing, mimicking a desperate but futile struggle to free himself. Pressure began to build in the elastic parts of his joints. "We have no record evidence of your Blessing being so grand. What changed you? Why betray your principles of keeping civilians aside?"

"It doesn't concern you," Beitiris replied, forcibly lifting Zeke to his feet. "Be glad to have a small purpose in the service of what is to come. Jamison."

Zeke opened his wings, but more tendrils wrapped around them, freezing them in place. Their tips morphed into hooks, pincers, and drills, and he heard the scratching against the membranes, drilling into the spaces between his joints. His arms were pulled and tugged, as if he were being held captive by a curious child who wanted to tear him limb from limb for fun.

Another figure skittered toward him on a dozen stalked legs. Zeke assumed it was this strange Jamison, and this Blessed One had unhealthy green scaly skin, three thin jointless hands that ended in pincers, wide eyes, and a small mouth. There was no neck or shoulders to speak of; the arms grew out of the torso, and the head itself was set inside the torso. But the top of Jamison's head opened, revealing glistening fangs.

"It'll hurt a little," Jamison hissed in a shy voice. "I don't like doing it, but it is the only way when he'll set everything right. He promised, you know," he finished in a quiet voice, as if telling his greatest secret to a stranger, and closed his upper jaws on Zeke's left upper arm, which Beitiris was forcibly straightening.

For the first time all day, Zeke felt a sting of pain. He could hear his chitin straining, splintering in the iron grip of those closing fangs grinding down his arm. The Oathguard took a deep breath, forcing himself not to panic. And moved his joints again.

The fingers of his lower left arm snapped. Slightly. Then harder. The pressure was building up.

"Less babbling, more biting." Beitiris glanced left and right, twitching nervously at the sight of her forces being annihilated. "What…" she faltered; her hooks slipped even deeper underneath the plates. "What are you doing to your muscles?"

Zeke struck. His lower left arm broke free of the grip, accelerated by the accumulated pressure in his muscles, and his fist landed on Jamison's face, sending the thing flying into a truck. Beitiris was still talking, but the vacuum created by his movement had rendered him deaf to her words. It was Voss who had first taught him the trick of stretching every fiber of his muscles to the breaking point, then releasing them in a single, cataclysmic attack. Skinwalkers pushed their limits by the sheer ruthlessness with which they treated their bodies. Oathguards could replicate these feats through dedicated training.

The surrounding tendrils snapped as he broke free, and Beitiris recoiled, closing one eye as shots from the cliffs and those of the Ice Fangs had ravaged part of her face. She roared and stabbed above Zeke's head, then retreated, collecting Jamison with a swipe. The traitorous mercenary captain had pinned her back against the rocks and slapped her wounded comrade. He snapped from his shock and raised his trembling hands in the air, and Beitiris smiled.

"Oathguard." Her tendril pulled an APC closer, and another tendril opened its side for Zeke to see. There were several dozen people restrained in harnesses, all gagged. "I believe this is why you…" the end of her second tendril turned into a rotating disk.

Zeke didn't wait for her to continue. His wings unleashed the NOISE, reducing the tendrils to mere mush drifting in the air, and he jumped, grabbing the APC and planning to carry it to safety on the cliffs.

"Such a wonderful hound. Who said there was only one? Fionn!" Beitiris hissed in pain, her tendrils moving after both Zeke and another APC.

The Oathguard's mind was torn by indecision. There was no mention of the second slave truck, but there was no reason for it not to be here. If he tries to reach the second one, he will inevitably put the people in the first one in danger again, because either the gunfire or the tendrils will reach him. But if he abandons them, then who…

I've made a mistake. Zeke understood and raced to the cliffs, begging the Eternal Shifter for another chance. He should have called Liliana here immediately and trusted Voss' ability to protect himself. Together, they would have defeated the mercenaries.

"There are hostages in the designated APC; request suppressive fire to keep the enemy at bay!" Zeke yelled the warning, knowing that his link was not yet close.

"On it, sir!" replied Knight Captain Malerata.

Her battleplate was covered with several bleeding holes and her cape was smoking, but the Ice Fang raced to the truck and took the first tendril of her shield. The blow was strong enough to shatter her fingers and send the shield flying, but her toes dug into the ground, and her claymore sliced through the throbbing appendage, catching it as it transformed into a spike. She started to move her weapon to protect against the second, when a laser beam sliced it in half, and the third retreated to protect the main body from the Mountaineers.

"Bet you're glad we joined the fun, eh, grandma!" Venusto laughed bombastically over the comms.

"My thanks, sirs!" Malerata saluted.

"There are lasses here too; we don't discriminate." Zeke heard the rocket launchers locking on the target. "Now it would be wise to duck, sweetheart."

"It was the most unpleasant meeting, but we have to cut it short for today," Beitiris said.

Zeke left the hostages on the cliff and turned to join the battle when he was ordered to protect the civilians and stay out of the fight. Ashamed, the Oathguard obeyed, calming his heart as the space behind Beitiris' fleshy tower suddenly swirled. It reminded him of water flowing into a sinkhole; every color merged, and a mixture of moving white and blue filled a circle about three meters in diameter. Jamison shuddered from exhaustion and was about to fall when a tendril tossed him into the hole.

"Like hell you are getting away!" Liliana roared, running over the mercenaries trying to stop her. Her rifle rose to aim at Beitiris' open eye.

"Fionn, if you would." Beitiris smiled as the crimson-lined cyclops reappeared next to her. A red light formed on its forehead, and Liliana cursed and tossed aside her rifle.

She intercepted the beam aimed at the hostages just in time to miss dozens of rocket launchers being fired from the cliffs, and Fionn and Beitiris somehow fitting into the portal together, escaping just in time before most of the fighters were knocked off their feet by the shockwave traversing across the road.

****

The battle ended shortly thereafter. Voss took it upon himself to neutralize the surviving mercenaries and capture as many as possible, while Liliana and Zeke waited in the rear to protect the wounded and hostages. Ignoring the occasional struggle on the battlefield, the Mountaineers descended and several of their medics began treating the wounded, trying to save friend and foe alike. Even disarmed, the mercenaries tried to claw, bite, or kick their captors, sweating from the effort, but saying nothing and answering no questions. Venusto gave the order to drug them into unconsciousness.

"Freaks me the fuck out," he said, offering Zeke a cig.

"Same thoughts." Zeke nodded, accepting the offer. "My apology. I should have called upon your aid sooner."

"Wha…?" Venusto raised an eyebrow. He was in his camouflage armor, but he removed his helmet and let the sun shine on his sweaty, black-haired face, covered by a web layer of scars in the sun. "Is that adrenaline talking? The operation was a success. Any hiccups were impossible to foresee."

"Like wasting enough rocket ammunition to cause another avalanche?" asked Malerata, coming closer.

Outside of her armor, the knight-captain still stood far above any Normie. She wore a tattered, bandaged yellow bodysuit that left her metal prosthetic legs and arms exposed, and a thick fur coat that covered every centimeter of her skin. Her hair was cut short, and one arm rested in a sling. The woman's snout protruded forward; when she spoke, she occasionally revealed white fangs hidden among normal teeth. Her crimson eyes joyfully looked Venusto over.

"Didn't hear you complaining when we saved your butt." Venusto shrugged, and Malerata raised a hand, stopping Zeke's reprimand.

"True," she glanced at the Mountaineers questioning the people. "Is it wise to force them to remember the stress? There are many little ones among them."

"We don't need details. Just the places they were taken from will do for now, so we can begin our search. Our work is never done," Venusto sighed and laughed. "At least someone is having fun."

Zeke stifled a chuckle. Liliana snatched a blade from one of the knights and was admiring its edge and weight when she suddenly exclaimed like a little girl, noticing the built-in gun in the handle and bombarding the shocked Ice Fang with questions about the caliber, the optimal range, and the types of ammunition the weapon used.

"It even has a recess for the projectile to travel to! Why isn't it advisable to fire the gun on the move? Surely you can spin…"

"How are your troops, Knight Captain?" Zeke asked.

"Seven wounded, proud Casimir has a splinter in his eye, but nothing serious, thank the Blessed Mother and the Twins. Anzhela, however." Malerata darkened, "had her entire chest pierced by the tendril spike. The field medics are doing their best, but she is losing blood from the ruptured heart, and I fear she may join the Twins prematurely. This is not the kind of injury we can treat in the field."

"Iternian hospital in Stonehelm," Zeke said. "I bet they could save her there."

"They could, but we won't get there in time."

"I can fly her there," Zeke offered.

"Zeke, you'll have to go at top speed." Liliana thanked the weary knight and returned the sword to him. "Our ally is a Blessed One, but she won't endure the stress of such a journey in her condition."

"The armor." Zeke raised a finger. "The Reclamation Army relies on power armor more than the Oathtakers. I had heard that your suits have the ability to go into full seal mode to help a comatose soldier survive the most severe wounds until an ally finds them."

"Our models have that feature." Malerata pressed a hand over her heart and bowed. "You honor us, Sir Zeke. If you can save our kin, we will be eternally grateful."

"It is you who honor us, Lady." Zeke returned the bow. "The Order's help has been invaluable in this time of need…"

"Who cares who honors whom?!" exploded Liliana. "We have a wounded in need of rescue! Shut up and get on with the preparations!"