Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Boy

The thirty first century was challenging.  More alike to the eleventh than the twenty first in many ways, life under the 13th Sun-King became progressively crueler as Jiran’s megalomania swelled. But in the early few years of his reign, he was far from hated. Quite the opposite, Jiran was seen as a stabilizing force. Especially in the first years, he could be more than generous with favors for those that bowed, groveled, and bent the knee.

One such occasion was the case of the famed hunter Ligan. A well-known Hawk of the Hunting Lodge, Ligan’s signature ability was to not only stalk and kill his machine quarry, but also to capture them alive. Or as alive as a machine could be. This was no easy feat even under normal conditions, but was especially a challenge by the onset of the Derangement several years into Jiran's reign. Once placid machines had quickly turned rabid against the humans of Meridian and beyond. Ligan started with smaller, less violent metal beasts initially. He could rope and capture a Strider or Charger nearly back to the point of domesticity and bring them hobbled before the new Sun-King for his viewing pleasure. Jiran clapped his approval from his royal viewing box and had spectacles with these captured machines in the Sun-Ring in the summer months where his retinue held court at Sunfall not long after he took the crown.

It took several months and whole hunting parties had to be involved, but the first year of Jiran's reign, Ligan finally captured a pair of nuisance Behemoths west of Meridian in all their snorting, rock throwing glory to display to the masses. No one was more delighted than the new Sun-King, who invited Ligan for a private audience. When summoned to the royal balcony, Ligan was pleased and honored after the Sun-King praised his skill and promised to make great use of the metal beasts. Ligan decided to press his luck for a boon from Jiran.

“Anything for a fine Carja master hunter!” replied Jiran magnanimously.

Ligan hesitated initially but explained that his lady wife had not yet fallen pregnant since their marriage five years earlier. The Carja nobility were expected to maintain their lines for posterity and tongues were wagging in court that Ligan may be getting too old to be fertile, even though he was still a formidable hunter. Ligan respectfully looked up at Jiran seated before him, whose cruel lips started to turn into a smirk. Ligan cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“I want to beseech you, O Glorious Sun-King, to bless our union in order to conceive an heir,” Ligan managed. “Ummm…personally. If it so please Your Radiance. It would be the highest honor.”

The older Hawk bowed low in obeisance. The smirk widened and Jiran clapped his hands. “Ah yes, I know your wife. She comes from good Carja breeding stock. And she is pretty as a freeze rime flower! Send her to me once a week when she is not in her moon time and I’m make sure to…bless her, by the Almighty Sun.”

An uneasy feeling settled in Ligan’s gut as he saw the lascivious look cross the king’s face. But he bowed his head respectfully again in thanks and initiated the arrangement all the same. Just as promised, his wife was veiled to conceal her identity and sent once a week into the palace to receive such a “blessing.”

As distasteful as the arrangement was, she gave birth to a healthy baby boy late in the year of the first year of his Radiance's rule. His likely true paternity was of course hidden. Ligan wanted an heir and an heir he received. What difference was it whether the boy was his or his king’s? He had the features typical of old bloodline Carja nobles. His most striking feature even as an infant was the pale blue grey eyes as luminous as the moon, similar to Ligan’s own eyes. That’s all that mattered.

Ligan and his wife made sure to raise the young boy as a young Carja noble as well. He was educated by a family tutor to read and write and took a special interest in poetry and songs. He’d rather be in the family library devouring texts than playing at war games with the other young noble boys in the courtyards and gardens of the city. He was almost unnaturally quiet and withdrawn, often speaking only when spoken to directly. He enjoyed his studies and wandering in the woods, but socializing with the other children at court held no interest to him in the slightest. When asked by his mother why he didn’t play with the others, he merely shrugged and went back to reading. The other girls and boys likewise seemed to know he was somehow different and gave him a wide berth.

Ligan did not like the child’s reticence for making friends as he saw it as shyness when he himself was a friendly, bold man who enjoyed wielding wide social influence. However, Ligan was very pleased he seemed to enjoy the woods. He wanted the boy to become a prolific machine hunter like him and set him to learn the bow and blade early. He had lessons from the masters at arms in Meridian teaching him staff, spear, and sword as well as tutelage from the Thrushes and Hawks alike of the Hunting Lodge on the more typical hunting weapons.

Ligan was particularly proud of the boy’s tracking and stealth abilities. Even before his tenth year, he excelled at stalking prey. Striders and Broadbacks were captured and tethered to a tree for this purpose in the forest of the Jewel and the young hunter was able to find track them from the gates of Meridian into the deep forest without fail or without alerting them or their herdmates of his approach. As a youth, his father took him beast hunting and fishing as well. Fowl and smaller furred animals alike fell to his small but nimble hunting bow along with the trout and salmon that he caught bowfishing. Ligan taught him to only take a shot if he was sure of the outcome and that wounding quarry instead of killing was a grave mistake. He explained that not only would the prey often get away and be almost impossible to track except by blood trailing, but the older man impressed strongly on the boy from the beginning that the animal should not suffer because of the hunter’s lack of skill or judgement. A quick, clean death was the best end any hunter could offer.

And so it was on that fateful day on a walk through Carja lands that Ligan and the twelve-year-old son came upon an older man named Nazem who lived in their area. He was a commoner and made his living farming the fertile land of the Jewel just outside the city. Nazem was a kindly grandfather type of man who knew to keep an eye on the young master when he was out prowling the forests on his own, youth sized bow in hand and small hunting knife on his belt. In return, he was given unlimited kitchen scraps for his hogs. Nazem sometimes sent a haunch of pork or a dozen goose eggs home with the boy for Ligan’s household to enjoy.

“By the Sun, my oldest sow is in terrible shape, my lords!” exclaimed a bloodied and out of breath Nazem. “She escaped out of the sty this morning and that rogue Snapjaw who lives nearby got a hold of her. I threw rocks at the beast to distract it and miraculously I was able to get her back here with all my limbs intact, but I think she’s done for. She’s been a good pig and I don’t know if I have the heart to put her down. You are skilled hunters, my lords. Can you help ease her pain?”

The father and son team exchanged looks. Ligan then nodded and indicated for Nazem lead the way. They followed Nazem to his small homestead and strode into the pig pen where a large spotted sow was down and prone lateral barely breathing. She was streaked with mud from the struggle with the Snapjaw and a large gaping hole on her front leg oozed blood. The fractured bone and torn flesh were obvious where the skin was ripped away. Additional gruesome toothmarks ran up and down her left flank where the machine had mauled her. Ligan frowned and touched the pig’s side while glancing up in the mid-day sun. She shuddered at the touch and groaned, brown eyes opening and squeezing shut in pain.

“It was a hot one today. She likely tried to find some mud to cool down in by the pools and the Snapjaw seized her right here. I know just the machine you mean. Nasty beast. We’ll root that one out so it won’t harm anything else. You were lucky to escape with your life, Nazem. I agree though, I don’t think she will make it. Poor animal.”

The boy nodded in understanding and both looked up at the farmer. Nazem sighed slowly.

“She was a good sow. Always raised a nice litter of piglets for us and was never aggressive. But I cannot stand to see her suffer. I know you will sort her out, my lord. She will feed both our families for the next season. I’ll be sure to send up the finest cured bacon to your house when the time comes.”

As Nazem strode away, Ligan turned to his boy and both knelt by her. “She’s in a great deal of pain and distress. I want you to end her suffering, son,” Ligan intoned solemnly. “But I want you also to know that while you may have taken smaller animals like turkey and rabbit in the forest with a bow from a distance, this pig is bigger than an Oseram metalworker. Animals and even people can be dangerous in the throes of death, particularly hand to hand combat. You owe it to them to respect that danger and look them in the eyes as the cloud of death passes over and the light of the sun’s life force leaves them. That is the code of the hunter.”

As if on cue, just then the sow seemed to notice she was alone with two strangers as her master had left. She squealed the blood curdling squeal of her kind and thrashed as she tried to get up on her mangled front leg. The sharp hooves and short, stout tusks flailed dangerously close to the boy’s face. They both jumped back to their feet as the sow rolled back down on her right side, exhausted and going into shock.

“Quickly, my son. You know where the heart is. Take your blade straight in and then down, between those ribs there and right behind the elbow,” pointed Ligan. “Do it. Now.”

Shaking slightly and swallowing hard, he bit his lip, removed his knife from the sheath on his belt, and knelt by the sow. He placed his off hand on the pig’s heaving body and could feel the animal’s heartbeat through the wall of the chest just behind the left front leg. She groaned, raised just her head, and looked right at him with those brown, eerily human-like eyes. Wordlessly pleading for something, but for what? Help? Pity? Release?

He gritted his teeth, turned his head back to her prone body, and placed the tip of the drop point blade against her thick skin. With a grunt, he slid the knife blade that was as long as his hand with the full force of his upper body in between the ribs. She squealed again and thrashed. Fearing he did something wrong, he slightly awkwardly cut downwards towards the sternum. A rush of fresh blood covered his hands just as he pulled the knife free and gurgled out over his boots. She took a few more gasping breaths, kicked once, shuddered, and was still. Her visible eye remained open and fixed on the boy and within even a few moments, he noticed that the eye appeared glassy and no longer full of life.

To the average person, this would have been a sad moment because of the taking of a life. But to the boy, it was an up close and personal process passing life into death at his own hand. In just a few moments, he realized how both deeply profound and interesting that process was to him. Even exciting, truth be told.

Ligan peered at the blood-spattered youth, expecting him to be a bit unnerved if even a bit frightened. It is no easy thing to take a life by one’s own hand at such a close distance. Many nobles who were not beast hunters would be horrified to do such a thing even though they lavishly took part in feasts where those same hunted beasts were the key items on the menu. On the contrary, Ligan could tell his son was flush with excitement and breathing quickly from the adrenaline. He had apparently forgotten the blood on his hands and had smeared a good bit of the hot coppery fluid on his brow, perhaps to wipe the sweat from the mid-day heat away. He looked up eagerly at the man he knew to be his father and smiled a rare toothy smile. A faint prickle formed at the nape of the experienced older hunter. While it fine to be proud of the relieving of suffering for the circle of life and to help a neighbor, the boy looked genuinely thrilled if…well…a bit unhinged. The father tried to conceal his reaction.

“Well done, my boy,” Ligan nodded and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Thank you, Father,” came the reply, the pale eyes flashing like quicksilver as he cracked a proud smile. The pair helped prepare the carcass for the local butcher and as promised, they later received a portion of the kill.

So it continued for several more years. The boy was growing into manhood and thus joined the more formal group schooling at age fourteen with the other Carja teenagers who were the sons and daughters of the nobles and more wealthy merchants. His teachers found him quiet, respectful, and very intelligent. He could write and recite poetry, learned several instruments (drums were his favorite), and had a respectable singing voice. He didn’t care much for the team sporting events the other teens played. Not that he was not skilled at games and sports. Group activities and sports were tedious, and he grew quickly irritated with any incompetence from team members, preferring to do things his own way.

He was growing in height to be one of the tallest in the group of kids his age. Taller even than young Prince Avad, who was several years older than he at age eighteen. Long and lean like a Stalker with a handsome aristocratic face and a thick head of dark brown hair he wore short, spikey, and somewhat unkempt, he would probably have caught the eye of many of the young noble girls. But he was completely indifferent to them. Never rude or inconsiderate, but they were just part of the landscape. If one of the girls had to work with him for a project, his unnervingly light eyes that had a propensity to linger just a few seconds too long in between normal eye contact left them with an uneasy feeling they couldn’t quite put their finger on. Like a predator evaluating and studying its prey, he simultaneously was both too detached and too intense to invite familiarity with the other young people. He quickly learned to see that pause or look of concern brought on by his mere presence.

This inevitably led to some of the teenage boys mocking him at his expense, most of which he simply ignored. As time went on, it had gotten progressively worse as some of the teenagers tried even harder to provoke a reaction in the nearly emotionless youth. He would always have a tendency to be morose by nature, but constant hassling did not improve his sociability.

One fall day after coursework was done, one of the boys in Avad’s circle of friends spotted him sitting on a wood bench pouring over a tome of herbal lore in a courtyard and the group wandered over. Just like any group of young humans establishing a pecking order, the older teen tried to make a joke at the younger's expense to deride his bookishness.

“Hey kid, class is over. Didn’t you know?” said the older boy as he slammed the book shut right in the lad’s face. Irritated at the intrusion, the younger teen gave a terse sigh, glanced up from the now closed book, and stared around the circle at each one without a word. The prince looked uncomfortable and tried to change the subject, but his friend wouldn’t leave the youth alone.

“Probably doesn’t even like girls either. Just reads stupid books and glyphs and hides out in the woods doing Sun-God knows what. What a weirdo…”

Something snapped in the fourteen year old hunter that day after months of badgering. He stood up and closed the distance between the other youth and himself in a blink of an eye, tackling him around the waist at a near sprint. He was slightly lighter but definitely taller than the other boy and took him down effortlessly to the cobblestones. At lightning speed, his knife that he always kept on him was drawn and at the other boy’s exposed neck, a throaty snarl on his bared teeth.

“Hey, no!” yelled the prince and a few of the other boys, who tried to close the distance to assist their friend. The young hunter merely stayed on top, face no more than a hand’s width from the other’s face, blade never moving from the other boy’s skin, all while staring down coldly into the now genuinely frightened eyes.

“Leave me alone. All of you.”

A few artisans and merchants had seen the scuffle and were running in their direction. He appraised the situation. He pulled himself off the older boy smoothly, sheathing the knife into his waistband, and stalked off, the prince parting the way for him out of the circle. No one bothered him then, but of course his mother and father heard all about it and questioned him later that evening.

The contrast to their responses could not have been more stark. His mother was besides herself with weeping, but Ligan was almost impassive. She cried about how this event would bring dishonor to their family and how he was not raised to attack others like this. Ligan hushed his wife and told her he wanted to speak to his son alone. She left the room dabbing her eyes as she went. Ligan sighed long, collapsing into the chair near the fire. The young man did not trust himself to speak, so he waited, eyes cast down at the floor.

“My son, your mother is far more surprised than I. I have seen these signs in you for years now. We’ve known you were a bit…different. Shy maybe. Quiet. Thoughtful. But strong. But this cool anger. It’s alarming. And maybe anger isn’t the right word always, but that was the case today. You could have killed that boy. And over what? Some empty words? Words are nothing.

“You are a prodigy at hunting. I should have known you would be. You shall have a place by my side in the Lodge soon. But you have a darkness about you. You relish the kill. You seek it out. And from what I’m learning, I’m not totally sure beast or machine hunting will be satisfying enough for a person of your skill and…tendencies. The other adults told me what they saw. Don’t tell me what happened. I already know. Tell me how you felt. Holding your knife to that kid’s throat.”

The young man did not answer immediately. He paused to gather his thoughts and feelings before clearing his throat and responding. “It felt…good. He insulted me in front of the others and he’s been at it for months. Relentless. That stupid kid was like any farm animal ready for the butcher. He was put in my path to destroy. Ready for me. And the blade itself was willing me to do it. It was...exciting.”

He finished slightly breathless and looked into his father’s face. Ligan’s bowels turned to ice. His suspicions were confirmed. This tall, handsome youth was not your typical trophy hunter of machines. He wasn’t just a hunter. He was a killer. He knew the boy would end up in prison or worse once he had another inevitable lapse in control.

“Son…my son….you must control yourself! The same discipline you use to stalk distant prey? Put that towards others, especially when they wind you up. Most of them are not worth your time. And I’m not saying killing is never justified. Far from it. But society frowns on wanton violence. If this happens again, you’ll end up in Sunstone Rock. No matter who you father is!”

The youth’s head was bowed, but he looked back up at the older man at the last sentence questioningly.

“I will do better. I swear it. But what do you mean ‘no matter who your father is?’ Like you would just hate to have your precious reputation sullied? Society frowns on violence? Ha! The Sun-King is far from a pacifist,” said the boy with a slightly rebellious edge in his voice.

“No. That’s not what I mean,” Ligan sighed. “I didn’t mean to…I mean…it’s a story for another time. Go to bed, son. Early bedtime tonight and you’ll see why in the morning. And the Sun-God help you if your mother or I catch you up reading afterhours!”

The next morning, the boy rose and met his father downstairs to break their fast. Boiled eggs, hot maizecakes, and bacon from Nazem’s pigs was washed down with plain water. A simple, unextravagant breakfast. His father looked up at him as he entered the room and for the first time, the boy realized his father was aging before him. He looked as if he had not slept for a week just from overnight. But he gave him a warm smile and pushed some fruit onto the teenager’s plate.

“I’m sure you are curious what this occasion is for. As you know, normally hunters from the Carja nobility could not become an official Thrush at the Hunting Lodge until age sixteen and could not be a fully qualified Hawk until age seventeen once you are a man. I’ve petitioned the Sunhawk and he’s agreed to allow you to complete the trial for Thrush now at fourteen. Once you are old enough, my plan is to step down as an active Hawk and you will take my place.”

The boy stopped chewing for a moment to stare at his father, eyebrows both raised in surprise. This was indeed unusual. The Lodge was known for their hunting skills, but they tended to be old fashioned stick in the muds and overly reliant on rules and social hierarchy.

“But why, Father?” he asked as he resumed eating through mouthfuls of buttered maizecake.

“Well…you have considerable skill. Of that, no one doubts. Even with most of these newer, more predatory machines. A few Sawtooths, Ravengers, and a Stalker are certainly within your abilities if you apply yourself. But moreover, I figured it would be good to give you a goal. I know that when you are of age, you’ll be expected to enter the army of the Carja Sundom as the late Sun-King Hivas’s orders about conscription still stands, even for us nobles. But I worry about our current king,” frowned Ligan.

“King Jiran is all about shoring up power. From what we are hearing about these Red Raids directed at the other tribes…well, your mother and I don’t want you getting mixed up in that. Not every tribe will just roll over and turn over scores of their young people to certain and bloody death. We as hunters know these deranged machines better than anyone. If anything, their aggression has gotten worse and more machine types are appearing since the sacrifices began. The Lodge initially voted to stay neutral on the subject. But that may not be possible forever. I know Talavad and Brativan Khane Padish are getting more frustrated all the time.”

The boy frowned thoughtfully as well. “So you think if I’m made a Hawk by the time I’m expected to join up, they won’t put me on the front lines for the raids. That being a Hawk will keep me safe?”

Ligan nodded. “Correct. The Sun-King is becoming unhinged, but he’s not a fool. Despite his bloodlust, he understands that he needs the continued support of the Carja nobility. If all our heirs are killed off on the front lines in an already questionable war, that will not endear him to us. No matter what, you are my son and I want to keep you safe. Being a master machine hunter is a very specialized skill and not without its own dangers. You’ll likely be expected to help clear out the machines in the wild before a skirmish. It will be dangerous work without question. But humans have a tendency to defend themselves when attacked. Which is what makes humans like the Nora, Banuk, and Oseram whose lives that His Radiance has decreed forfeit may likely to be the most dangerous prey of all. So yes, this is the safer way.”

The father’s light blue eyes shone in concern but the son’s own eyes remained thoughtful, mulling this information over. That morning, they worked together on his first assignment: three Sawtooth trophies. Ligan’s heart soared with pride as he let the boy take the lead on the kills. The Ravenger and Stalker kills came soon after in the weeks that followed. As a gift for his Thrush initiation into the Hunting Lodge, Ligan gave him several gifts, including his first Carja hunting bow. Truly a man’s bow, he was obsessed with cleaning it, fletching and crafting his own arrows, and making sure it was always in top shape. A traditional Carja headdress made from the plates and metal feathers of a fire Glinthawk that the boy had previously harvested was part of the set, as was the Stalker tattoo and kohl facepaint he now took below his lower eyelids like his father.

The last gift was a surprise to the young man at first. Much to his chagrin, his parents had thrown a celebration feast at their home for friends and family. Bored quickly of the required socializing, he excused himself before long from the festivities as he explained to his parents that he was tired from the last hunt and initiation. Ligan and his wife exchanged knowing looks. He walked upstairs to his bedroom on the second floor of their home and opened the door. There sat a beautiful young woman reclining on his bed.

He actually could smell her perfume before he saw her there lazing on a throw pillow in a sleeveless red dress of fine silks that left little to the imagination. She had dark, sharp eyes that missed nothing with a matching deeply tanned complexion, but her hair was colored a deep vermillion. Unusual in a Carja woman was his first unbidden thought. He was momentarily speechless. She sat up from the bed and smiled a friendly and welcoming smile at him as he gaped from the frame of the door.

“Hello, I’m Jessa. I know you have had various tutors in different subjects. Your parents have hired me for certain…educational services. Please do come in and shut the door.”

The young man did as he was bid and sat hesitantly on a chair near the corner of the room. She smirked slightly at what she perceived as shyness. “It’s alright. I understand you have achieved a spot on the Hunting Lodge as a Thrush. Quite an accomplishment for your age! Well done!” Jessa said, taking a sip of wine from a cup near the bed and raised the cup in toast to him. He continued to remain silent and watchful.

“I hear you are quite the studious learner. That is to be commended. Many young men your age are not interested in scholarly pursuits. If you take that approach with what I’ll be showing you, I think you’ll be well rewarded. You do…like girls, yes?”

He swallowed and nodded slowly. “Ummm…well enough, I suppose. Don’t really have time for that sort of thing. I don’t know much about them nor do I care much either.”

“Indeed. Well, many young people learn what I will be teaching you through trial and error. From what I’m hearing, you are not particularly interested in even trying. Why that may be is not for me to get out of you nor judge you for. My job is merely to instruct you on the art of courtship and love, as your parents do want you to be happy and someday wedded to continue your noble line. I’m a few years older than you, but do not think me a courtesan or a prostitute. I am owned by no one. I am beholden to no one. You, your parents, or anyone else. They simply pay for my time, not the content of our lessons. Do you understand?”

The young man felt his mouth go dry as he could see where this may eventually be going. But nodded all the same.

“Very well. Now that we have been acquainted with one another, let’s begin.”

For the next several years, Jessa would meet privately with him in his room every few months in which she would explain some of the finer points of the Carja expectations for courtship and marriage. Much of it was quite banal. How to talk to the young women. What to wear and how to act to get their attention. How to address their parents and get a good word in for an arranged betrothal that was mutually satisfactory. But then came the more practical lessons: holding hands, some basic dancing for formal events, kissing, and even a discussion of how to give and receive pleasure to one’s intended. He was also instructed in various methods to both encourage and discourage pregnancy.

He took it in seemingly disinterested, although he participated. As Jessa had made clear, she was no courtesan, but she did at least show him what to do in both description as well as demonstrations for pleasing a woman on her own body. The young man was polite, not overly eager, and mostly continued to sit on a chair as she showed him on his bed various places that women tend to appreciate various erogenous attentions. Rarely had she seen a more serious teenager, as most boys were simultaneously giddy with equal parts excitement and embarrassment for these lessons. But he took to these sessions like his lessons on Sundom theology or learning the cultural beliefs of the major tribes and histories of both the East and West. He was simply nonplussed, though he liked his instructor well enough. She had an easy way about her that slowly gained his trust. But she stayed true to her initial introduction and informed him their lessons were soon coming to an end, just as his formal education and classwork were likewise finishing.

His real-world adventures on the horizon were about to become far, far more hazardous.

Chapter Text

The Young Man

On the date of his seventeenth birthday, the young man had walked home as usual after a later afternoon hunt and expected the usual greeting from his parents coming through the door.  Perhaps also fond wishes and the promise of a special dinner now that he had passed seventeen times around the sun and was now considered a man of age. But as he strode through the front doors of their well-appointed Meridian home, he could sense the tension and alertness in his parents as they greeted him from the foyer.  Perhaps even fear.

“There’s someone here to see you, my son,” said Ligan quietly with a hint of a chill in his voice and eyes. Or was it a warning?  “He’s in my study. Please go to him straight away. He is not a man used to being asked to wait.”

The young man did as he was bid, barely remembering to set his bow sling down before walking to his father’s study. He opened the heavy doors and strode in, shutting them behind him.  Once inside, a very imposing figure stood with his back turned to the door.  The man wore a black and red leather Carja armor complete with a full cascade of red feathers flowing about his broad shoulders.  Even more feathers complemented the tall headdress he held in his battle-hardened hands. Dark cornrow braids were gathered at the back of his partially shaved skull.  The man turned to look at him with an appraising expression on his sallow face and pale dead eyes.

“Hello, young man,” said the older soldier, locking eye contact and nodding at the teen solemnly and formally.  “Thank you for meeting me on short notice.”

He immediately recognized the man.  It was Helis the general of the Carja army and the right hand of the Sun-King.  He froze instinctually.  The Terror of the Sun was in his father’s study before him, muscled thickly like a Trampler and with a notoriously similar attitude. The young man channeled his control to remain calm and not betray any signs of weakness.

“Of course, sir,” returned the younger man as he fought to mask his nerves.

“As you know, all young noble male Carja citizens are required to serve in the military once they are of age.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Normally we generals do not reach out personally to recruits. Sun God knows we are busy enough with our other duties.  However, there is considerable interest in your talents all the way up to the Sun-King himself.”

The young man felt his gut roil but said nothing, trying to remain attentive but keeping his face impassive.

“It has been said you are one of the most skilled machine hunters of your age.  For that reason, His Radiance himself wants special attention given to your training once you enlist next month.”

“Yes, sir.  My father mentioned that I maybe I could be part of clearing a battlefield of rogue machines before or during the fighting.”

“Well, yes.  That’s a fine and necessary position,” allowed Helis. “But that’s not exactly what the Sun-King himself has in mind for you.  The details will be forthcoming during your enlistment and training. But suffice it to say that your…special talents will be put to excellent use.”

Despite himself, the teenager’s interest was piqued. He waited for Helis to go on.

“Hunting machines is all well and good.  But man versus man?  Where it is your blade against theirs and only one may walk away? Where blood and sweat mark the occasion of death? Therein lies the most virtuous and rewarding hunt of all. I must take my leave but remember that well. But before I leave, I have something that you may find beneficial. I understand you are a smart lad and that you would find this interesting. His Radiance’s nephew did. It will likely become helpful sooner than you think.”

With that, Helis reached into a pocket in his cloak and produced a book of bound parchment, placed it on the nearest table, turned on his heel and strode out of the room.  Helis nodded at Ligan who was waiting near the front door and wished him good hunting with a sneer about his thick lips as he exited the home.

Ligan glowered once the door clicked shut and the general was down the street well out of earshot. 

“Good hunting indeed! I’m sure he is well aware of the growing opposition by the Hunting Lodge to their atrocities! We’ll have to be careful how vocal we are publicly. I’ll mention this to the Sunhawk.  So what did the general want to talk to you about?”

“He said that they want me to enlist right away now that I have come of age.  He says I’ll likely be trained for more advanced missions than just machine hunting.”

“Did he say why?” asked Ligan.

“Well, he said the Sun-King himself had taken an interest in me personally and knew how skilled I was,” he answered, trying to conceal the pleasure in his voice.

“I see,” said Ligan, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. He sighed and gestured to the young man to follow him back into his personal study, where they took separate chairs after shutting the door. 

“I was afraid this would come into play some day. Now I see the day has come to explain to you what I mean.”

The teen said nothing but continued to look quizzically at the man he knew to be his father. Ligan sighed again, running his hands through his now silvered hair.

“Many years ago, your mother and I were married.  The match was arranged, of course, but we had and still continue to have a good relationship.  But we were never able to conceive an heir.  I had just turned forty five years old and she was in her late thirties.  We were getting worried it may never happen.  Since I don’t have other family nor does she, this would leave your mother alone if something happened to me. Our family home and wealth would pass as a tax to the Sundom.  So we had some genuine concern.  I had been making a real name for myself at the Lodge. I captured a few metal beasts for Jiran to use in his spectacles, never of course understanding he’d later use them to murder hundreds if not thousands in the arena. Just one of my many great regrets…”

Ligan trailed off looking distant before beginning again.

“Anyways…I asked the Sun-King for a boon.  Something to boost our wealth, prestige, property?  No. I made the rather…uncomfortable decision to ask for a fertility blessing for your mother from the new Sun-King,” he paused for a moment, letting the comment sink in with the lad. “This fertility blessing came directly from the Sun-King himself. Sure enough, you were born barely a year later.”

A sinking, nauseous feeling spread through the young man’s gut as he realized what the man he always considered his father had told him. He gaped in shock and he spluttered incoherently for words.

“I know.  I know…” said Ligan sadly, raising his hands in defeat.  “This is not how I wanted to tell you.  You are my son!  You will always be my son.  But the fact of the matter is that Jiran’s interest in you may not be purely academic. He obviously kept track of when my son was born based on what happened.  Your paternity cannot be proven one way or the other due to there being no written record of our arrangement. And Sun God knows you look enough like me no one would dare consider an alternative. But…I do not know for sure.

“Suffice it to say that the Sun-King knows of your skills and may be grooming you for some role yet unknown, perhaps as an heir.  We must be very careful not to upset the proverbial apple cart as he is very dangerous. But, son, I don’t want you to die for his tyranny and fanaticism.”

The older man took the younger by the shoulders and looked at the teen, eyes shining earnestly in equal parts pride and abashed embarrassment. However, while the young man was still shocked by these revelations, an anger started to replace the shock.

“You ruined my mother and your wife! With that maniac? Why? For an heir? Just to have me?” he said incredulously.

“Yes.  You know how important having an heir is, as I explained. If I had died, your mother would be homeless.  She has no one else.  So it was worth it.  You were worth it.  The Sun-King was proven at least.  At the time, Jiran already had fathered Kadaman and Avad and how many untold…well…bastards.”

He looked even more guilty at using the word that may be descriptive of the boy he had called son for seventeen years.  But Ligan looked up into the eyes of who he would always consider his boy and continued.

“But again, you were worth it.  Never forget that.” 

The young man felt a teenage surge of fury and wanted to look down into the older man’s face and rail at him. To tell him he was an old fool.  That he was not like some machine trophy to parade around to his stupid noble friends at the Lodge just so he could have an heir.  To tell him that he hated him and that to hurt him, he would join whatever special unit Helis and the Sun-King wanted. Even if it put him in grave jeopardy. Because he was ready to make his way in the world and a name for himself outside the influence of his father.  Either of his purported fathers for that matter.

But he could do none of those things.  Ligan had made mistakes, yes.  He knew in his heart that Ligan did love him, whether by blood or not. But just then, he couldn’t stand to see his father or whoever he was.  He angrily stormed out of his father’s study, snatching up the book Helis had left on the table.

Once he got to his room, he locked the door and flopped on his bed.  He looked down at the book in his hands:  Expeditions Into the Forbidden West by Considerate Udain.  He flipped open the cover and began to read long into the night.

The next morning, he greeted his parents at breakfast as usual.  His mother was stirring some scrambled goose eggs on a pan over the fire as his father (or was he just Ligan now?, his inner voice commented snidely) was reviewing some Lodge business scribbled on parchment at the table. They both nodded and smiled at him.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But something inexplicably had shifted after their conversation last night.  His mother would always be his mother, but a wedge was now there between his father and himself and he couldn’t rationally explain it away.  While many teenagers throughout history had friction with their parents as they prepared to make their own way in the world, a desire to prove himself on his own merits outside of his parents was stronger than ever.

On a late spring day one month later, he signed a scroll stating his formal enlistment into the Carja army.  It was a formality, of course.  As an of age noble male, he had no choice.  He left for the Citadel with a group of others, mostly barely older than boys right around his age.  They were pampered sons of artisans and merchants, but also the boys of peasants, farmers, and laborers with lean, hungry looks and not many personal effects beyond the tattered clothes on their backs and worn shoes on their feet. 

War is almost always hardest on the poorer members of society.  But service at least promised a few square meals per day and a chance of a better life for those who survived it. As a goodbye gift, the young man had been gifted a brand new Carja war bow from his father that was even finer than his bow he received when he was inducted as a Thrush.  “The Voice of Our Teeth” sat glossy and proudly balanced between his shoulders as the convoy of young recruits headed into Sunfall. 

Once at the Citadel, it was clear Jiran’s forces were hurting for numbers, despite the Sun-King’s obsession with pushing west for new territory and bloodletting victims.  The goal was to get the new troops trained up as soon as possible as the area west of Barren Light looked to the king and his power hungry advisors to be ripe for the taking.

The young man was quickly put through his paces.  Already proficient with most range weapons and the spear, he was trained for one-on-one combat with knives and other close quarter weapons. He drilled daily with grappling and wrestling techniques, which he also found both challenging and enjoyable in addition to their practical applications.  Most men his size were intimidating but slow.  He was wicked fast and could quickly best many but the most seasoned warriors.

Beyond the training for combat, he was also taught to think as a soldier and follow orders.  As when he lived with his parents, he didn’t invite familiarity with the other men.  He was quiet and kept to himself beyond the minimum interaction needed for instruction and drilling.  He still read when he could by candlelight while the others diced, gambled, or played Machine Strike around the barracks.

The Carja military ranks were absolutely forbidden to women, which suited him just fine.  Not only were women not allowed to join, but the men were expected to not fraternize with the civilian women in or around Sunfall.  The Kestrels, Jiran’s elite of the elite, were in fact expected not to have relations with women at all until they reached suitable rank and length of service.  Only then were they deemed ready for Carja arranged marriage. This was a concession to the Carja nobles who still wanted their sons to have heirs themselves.

Some of the true believers like Helis preached the virtues of completely abstaining from relationships if possible to avoid distractions and what he called soft romantic feelings of attachment. The chatter in the barracks was that the brutal general had been married many years earlier, but lost his wife and baby in childbirth.  So Helis doubled down on his devotion to the Sun-King.  The young man just shrugged when he heard those rants from the Terror of the Sun on days when the general would speak to his troops. He had never met a woman worth much of his attention and put it out of his mind. This was not to say he had no sexual urges at all. But his preference was to relieve himself as needed and thus no need for any social interaction or romantic entanglements.

He found as the months of training went by that he fit the military well, but he was no zealot, religious or otherwise. He first expected he’d serve his expected time and then head back to a more menial life in Meridian, assuming he survived his tour.  Once back, he’d finally taking his father’s place in the Hunting Lodge and being ushered into a loveless arranged marriage with some vapid noble girl. 

So it came as a surprise that he actually liked military service, at least thus far. He cared not for the politics of the conflict, but he reveled in the physicality of training. He also appreciated some of the Carja High Command that were less brutish and even a bit scholarly, like General Fashav who had appreciated the book regarding their next major battle theater:  the Forbidden West. He was pleased that his unit’s first major assignment against the Tenakth loomed in No Man’s Land on the sun scorched flats of the Cinnabar Sands.

Chapter Text

The Soldier

The beautiful country of the Cinnabar Sands was in smoking ruins.  The skeletal frames of gigantic spider crab-like machines dead for nearly a millennia stood as silent witness in the far distance to the carnage while the carcasses of the smaller, more scorpion type robots were scattered about amongst the battlefield. Locked in silent combat with tanks and other armored vehicles, they were a not-so-subtle reminder of the war of the Old Ones revered by both groups of combatants in today’s battle.   

The young soldier’s head throbbed.  He blinked and wiped away the perspiration from his face as his eyes burned with smoke and sweat. This was his first official engagement. It was towards the end of the summer and brutally hot, easily rivaling the deserts of the Sundom.  He could practically hear his father in his ear telling him to stay hydrated and drink from the skin on his belt, but he was too excited.

His unit had been trying to jockey for position and kept being forced back into the alcoves along the mesas and canyon walls.  First came the smoky artillery fire (rumored to be of Oseram make) lobbed into their midst that disoriented them in the unfamiliar countryside. Then came the scores of arrows as the Tenakth closed in. The butchery of blades soon joined in as the Tenakth smelled blood and victory. The goal of the united clans under Hekarro was to push the Carja either back towards Barren Light or herd them into the blind canyons with no way out and slaughter them to the man.

Before the battle, the young soldier and his unit had been briefed that the Tenakth would ask no quarter and they would receive none.  The standing order from General Helis himself was that any prisoners taken by the Carja would be marched straight to the Sun-Ring, assuming they could survive the trip in the oppressive heat.  If the prisoners looked like they could not make it, the crows and vultures would eat well that day.

But they also were told if they themselves were taken…well, the Tenakth’s reputation spoke for itself.  They would all be tortured and summarily killed. Brutally. Not only that, but there were also not so quiet whispers that the blood of the fallen was certain to be on the menu. 

He watched many other nearby units being decimated under the sprawl of the Metal Devil, much like the rest of the Carja forces that had shown up earlier that day.   Even from a distance, it was horrific. An abysmal defeat was impending and he had yet to fight directly.  He could see that the Tenakth were absolutely ferocious and knew this ground far better than the Carja scouts, who had done their best but who were roundly outmatched. 

The biggest surprise to the young soldier was the absolute chaos of the battle.  It was on such a larger magnitude of scale than even the stories of even most difficult and hectic Thunderjaw hunt.  The acridity of the smoke bombs that stung the eyes and burned the throat.  The war drums on both sides that hammered on incessantly.  The slipperiness of human blood on the rocks of the canyons. Most importantly to the young soldier, the addictive rush that started from the moments the trumpets and drums sounded for their units to get into place and only increased once blood began to flow.

Some of the other Carja young men new to war and death were pissing themselves as the enemy hoard was drawing close.  The soldiers in his unit could see the whites of their enemies’ eyes and teeth highlighted by a variety of colorful face paints as they ululated their feral war screams. The young soldier was not scared beyond a few nerves.  This was far and away much more exciting than any machine or beast hunt he had ever been a part of.

Finally a squad of Tekanth engaged them directly.  They appeared to be Sky Clan based on their face and body paint if the young soldier’s recollection of the book regarding the Forbidden West was correct.  He was well known to be an excellent bowman, so his role was to be towards the back of the unit providing supportive fire with the rest of the archers.  He used the underbelly of a millennia old tank as cover as he nocked arrows as fast as he could into the advancing squad of Tenakth. The Voice of Our Teeth sang for the first time as his arrows found throats and chests of the painted warriors clambering to kill them all. 

The years of training as a hunter prepared him well for this.  He felled a dozen of the enemy from his covered position in half as many minutes, most with just a single well-placed shot.  But they just kept coming as his fellow soldiers started to fall around him. Bravery and honor in war were fine aspirations, but numbers were numbers, no matter what the old songs and poems said.  And arrow supplies were running as low as their chances.

Young as he was, he was no fool. He knew the odds were slim to begin with as the Cinnabar Sands were well outside Carja territory. They did not have the logistical support or numbers to make a sustained push into this swath south of Plainsong, no matter what the top brass intoned. 

Once the waves of Tenakth streamed at their front and flanks, there was no way out except to navigate the mesas, cross the river, and sprint back east across No Man’s Land.  Which is exactly what General Fashav was trying to orchestrate with only mixed success.  The young soldier watched from his hidden position as the Sun-King’s own relative was overwhelmed and taken by the enemy several hundred meters away. 

Fashav was kicking, screaming, and swearing at the half dozen Tenakth warriors who had captured him.  This effort was to make a diversion to allow a few Carja stragglers to run with tucked tails back towards Barren Light. They bound Fashav in thick ropes and kicked and struck the general into submission. He was hauled to his feet and compelled to march away with the squad who had captured him to Sun-God knew where.

The young soldier saw this and a sinking feeling was replacing the initial excitement of battle.  He knew then it was over.  Fashav would likely be killed, just as most of his comrades had been. He felt a dull panic starting to rise as he considered his few options now that he was alone.  He couldn’t surrender as he knew he’d be killed immediately. There was no point in making a break for it towards the river that led back east now.  There were hundreds of paces of open ground and then steep mesas and canyon walls to climb or go around, in which case he would easily be spotted and cut down almost immediately.  Or he would likely die soon once his position under the tank was discovered. So the teenage Carja noble resolved himself to make as strong of an end as he could.

He raised himself to his feet to draw one of his last arrows from his hip quiver when he felt a sharp, concussive pain in his lower back not far down from his ribs.  Someone had shot him from behind just as he had given up his cover from under the tank.  Nearly immediately he felt a sense of tunnel vision and the sounds of ongoing explosions and shouts suddenly seemed to be coming from the bottom of a well. Consciousness slipped from him like the sweat dripping from his bare skin as the blackness took him.

He awoke a few moments later and vertigo swirled as he tried to take a few breaths and pull himself up to his feet. The projectile had not only struck him but also at least partially knocked the wind out of him. But any such deep breathing was nearly impossible with the smoke. He tried clutching the side of the tank but could not keep his balance.  He promptly collapsed onto his hands and knees and vomited in the dust.  Eyes bleary with the tears from retching, he blinked a few times still prone in the dirt, wiped his mouth with his scarf, tried to stand and promptly passed out yet again. 

He awoke a few minutes later face down in the sands to the sounds of the low, ghoulish moans of the dying in an agonizingly slow growing crescendo.  It took him several moments to realize he was moaning in pain as well, though he seemed to escape the call of death for the moment.  He raised his head from the ground and looked around briefly to survey the scene.  Not too many warriors were left on the actual battlefield.  It looked well and truly over in favor of the Tenakth.  And now the aftermath would begin, which would surely mean no prisoners.

His head indeed hurt likely from the fall to the ground, but just above the small of his back, an arrow protruded. This stung more than his head for the moment. When exactly the arrow hit him in the back and by whom, he was unsure.  The wound oozed what felt like only a modest amount of blood, so he was not particularly concerned it was embedded too deep to deal with.  He reached backwards while still on his belly and snapped the arrow shaft out of his skin in one quick jerk. The pain was intense and he nearly went unconscious for a third time.

But it wasn’t just pain.  He felt different somehow in the time since he was struck, even as the arrow had been pulled.  A calmness overtook his emotions yet his rational brain felt like walking through quicksand.  He had a naturally detached personality anyways. Cool as the waters of the Cut. But right then he felt an aggression if not a rage he had rarely felt before bubbling up. It didn’t even make sense exactly. 

He shook his head to focus to clear this fog he assumed was caused by hitting his head. He knew he needed to retreat if he had any chance of survival. Although he understood that he had in all actuality signed his name to die on the Sun-King’s behalf in this foolish venture into the Forbidden West, he still felt no actual loyalty to die for the cause now that it came down to it. So it was not as if he had some blood thirsty religious devotion like the Terror of the Sun or a noble cause of promoting respectable behavior like Unyielding Fashav.  But he could not shake the feeling he needed to fight, not flee. 

A few moments later, a lone Tenakth warrior approached the tank where the Carja soldier lay very still.  He was a handsome youth with a partially shorn scalp and covered in the turquoise, maroon, and white face and body paint in the Lowland Clan fashion but had only a few tattoos. He was about the same age as the young soldier, perhaps a year or two older.  He wandered about the bodies of the Carja with a short sword drawn ostensibly to dispatch any enemy combatants still alive.

The young soldier stayed as still as possible face down in the dust.  He shut his eyes except for a slit to see from and controlled his breathing.  He heard the Tenakth pause next to him to appraise him for signs of life.  The young soldier held his breath and remained very still as he felt the point of the short sword poking his side uncomfortably but not quite hard enough to wound.  He heard the friction from the sound of the Tenakth’s sandals on the sand as he pivoted to move on.

The initial fear of being discovered dissipated as the new rage took its place. He took a deep breath to steady himself before popping up partially off the ground onto all fours and tackling the other man about the knees from behind.  The Tenakth twisted as he fell to look and went down hard on his back in surprise.  To ensure he could not alert any of his nearby comrades, the young soldier jumped on top of the Tenakth and ripped the short sword out of his hands with his right hand while covering his mouth with the left. 

They grappled there for several moments in the dirt near the shelter of the tank.  His opponent gaped in terror and flailed and kicked under the young man who was taller and slightly heavier. The young soldier found his long hunting knife at his belt with his right hand as the other continued to struggle.  Time seemed to slow as the Tenakth’s eyes grew huge as the blade descended to his throat in a well-practiced arc expertly cutting the jugular and carotid. 

Blood from the arterial spray immediately splashed the young soldier’s face and chest as they remained locked together, faces inches apart.  The look of realization of his impending death crossed the Tenakth’s face.  He stopped struggling with his foe as his life bled out onto the Cinnabar Sands.

“You…fought well. Maybe not with honor,” he half chuckled through heavy panting as he gazed with his brown eyes into his opponent’s glinting blue ones.  “But well.  Remember…me.”

The Carja soldier nodded in affirmation and shifted his weight off the other man to kneel at his side.  What was it the Tenakth said?  He tried to recall the words from the book of the Forbidden West, hoping they were the right ones. 

“Strike true as the Ten,” he replied solemnly, never breaking eye contact.

The Tenakth pulled started to pull his left arm up as in salute, but lost consciousness quickly from the blood loss. He exhaled slowly and never breathed again.  His became limp and his head lolled off to the side.  The young soldier studied the body, noting how quickly the light left the eyes of the now dead Tenakth.  But he knew he couldn’t linger here long, as sweet this was.  He had his first kills today, including this nameless young warrior in front of him. But he would be quickly discovered and counted amongst the dead himself if he didn’t act swiftly.

He rose to his feet and looked down at both the dead soldier and his own body. Pieces of the woven Tenakth armor lay strewn about. Blood and the various colors of the Lowland Clan were smeared messily across his chest. 

Suddenly he had an idea about how to get out of this.

Chapter Text

The Survivor

The two guards posted for night duty at the western gates of Barren Light had a fairly easy shift so far.  They were a bit wary, as the Battle of Cinnabar Sands was the day before last and with such a sound defeat, they were not sure if the Tenakth were going to push their victory to the east.  Orders were already coming in that the troops were supposed to move out yet again soon after the defeat at the Cinnabar Sands to a location further southeast of Plainsong.  Morale was low and the feelings were apprehensive amongst the troops. No amount of dicing or playing Strike seemed to pass the time until daylight.

Until one of the guards noticed a slow, limping figure making its way towards the gates. The guard nudged his comrade and they both squinted out into the darkness. 

“Is…is that one of us? Or a Tenakth?” asked the first guard with uncertainty.

“Better call it in and go investigate.  You wouldn’t think one of theirs would just stroll right into camp. But you never know. I heard even a band of rogue Utaru was attacking supply lines east and south of Plainsong over the last week or so.  When even those grass eaters get involved, you can’t trust anything.”

A few soldiers grabbed torches and steel and headed out into the dark.  The figure fell to his knees with raised hands as they approached warily with halberds and bows at the ready.  He was covered in dried mud up to his thighs as if he had just stumbled through riverbanks some time earlier. Over his lean torso were the crude and messily smeared bright turquoise and maroon paint of one of the Tenakth clans.  The vest top and vambraces made of woven grasses and machine plates covered his chest and forearms looked dirty and ripped.

The Carja soldiers all observed the young man. While he was tall, he was clearly no older than eighteen years old at the most. At least he knew enough to go down to his knees and raised his hands in submission. The soldiers held up a torch to see him more clearly in the light.

“Who are you?” asked one of the Carja soldiers. “Why have you come here? Speak quickly!”

“Water,” rasped the young man, his head bowed. His throat was clearly raw from being in the heat.

“Bugger that! Who are you?” the soldier repeated more harshly. “Who are your people, boy?  Are you Tenakth?”

“Now hold on, I don’t think he’s one of them.  Why would he walk right up to us?” another soldier said more evenly.  He reached for his own water skin at his belt and extended it to the young man, who nodded gratefully as he took it and proceeded to suck it down.

Once done drinking, the guards stared as he proceeded to pour some water into his hands and splash it onto his face.  With the edge of his scarf, he took the majority of the colorful greasy paint off from around his eyes. The small, almost delicate tattooed vertical line and circle of the Stalker was now visible in the torchlight under both luminous blue eyes.

“Well, shit.  Relax, guys.  He’s one of us.  I bet he’s a Hunter.  Look at that nice bow he’s got strapped to his back.  You’re from the Hunter’s Lodge, I’m guessing?” asked the same guard. The young soldier nodded.

Everyone sighed with relief and wonder.  Then came the questions all at once.

“Why were you out there?”

“Did you come from Meridian?”

“No, idiot, he came from the west gates. Did you come from Cinnabar Sands?”

“What gave you the idea to dress like a Tenakth?”

He held up his hands again to hold off the animated questions of the others and tried somewhat unsuccessfully to rise.  He hissed sharply as a badly sprained ankle had him sink back to his knees.  The men surrounded him and assisted him back to his feet. A pair of the men threw his arms around their shoulders and helped him limp back through the gates to the medic’s station.

The medic was summoned from sleep to evaluate him.  Dehydration, severe sunburn, a few bruises and cuts, and a left ankle swollen from trying to descend a mesa in the dark over his two day flight back from the Cinnabar Sands seemed to be the worst of his injuries. 

The medic dabbed some salve on the still healing cuts, braced and bound the injured ankle with flat pieces of wood and bandaging material, and gave him a decoction of ridgewood bark tea to drink for the pain once he was satisfied the young soldier had his fill of water for the moment.  He didn’t mention the headaches and still foggy yet strangely aggressive feeling in his head, which had waxed and waned over the last few days.  Surely just a side effect of being in the heat too long…

While the head medic attended to him, one of the officers in leadership passing through Barren Light had been summoned to speak with him once word spread of his presence to get the details of the battle since practically no one else survived.  Thankfully an assistant begged him to see the young soldier in the morning.

He was given a quiet bay in the medic’s station for the rest of the night.  He sank gratefully into the cot and sat as he chewed on a piece of mesa bread slowly while sipping more water.  His head throbbed and his stomach was not up to eating anything more complicated.  He laid down to sleep even though he could hear others talking about him just outside the door. 

By mid-morning, he finally woke.  Though still a bit off, he overall felt much better.  A now cold plate of breakfast (more mesa bread and a hardboiled egg) had been left at the table by the cot.  He ate quickly, hoping to limp out to use the privy due to all the water he was made to drink.  On his way back, one of the junior medics spotted him and bade him to go back to the cot to rest.  He protested, saying he was doing fine and was ready for reassignment.  The ankle still was black and blue with swelling, but at least it felt a bit better stabilized by the splint.  The medic insisted, saying he needed to regain his strength and let the ankle mend, but he would send for the officer now that he seemed ready to escape the medic’s station.

Not long after, a sturdy middle-aged man with dark brown hair and a closely cropped salt and pepper beard strode into the room and faced the younger soldier.  He removed his helm and took a seat from across the cot. The younger soldier tried to rise, but the older man waved him off.

“At ease, son. No need to get up.  I’m Captain Uthid.  I am on my way back to Meridian for a short time to report to the Carja High Command before our next objective.  We had heard that a survivor of Cinnabar Sands had made it back and I almost didn’t want to believe it. I am pleased that you did.  But we need to know what you have seen as clearly the battle was…disappointing. So tell me what you saw and what your part was.”

The young soldier nodded. He started by giving his name and rank and explained that he was tasked with providing support via his bow.  He reported he had seen General Fashav taken alive by the hostiles, at which point Uthid sighed and bowed his head before allowing the young soldier to continue. 

He shared that he had killed multiple Tenakth with his bow and that he had to make his first hand to hand kill.  Then to escape, he smeared himself with Lowland Clan face and body paint from the Tenakth warrior he killed and had cobbled together some armor to look the part as well.  Any time he was spotted by Tenakth (mostly Desert Clan in this area), he used the little knowledge he had to assume the role of a slightly lost Lowland Clan member searching for the rest of his squad.

It took him a good two days of mostly hiding in the daytime and traveling at night (hence the unlucky fall), but he made it back with minimal injuries all things considered.  The veteran captain listened attentively without interruption. This lad will make something of himself one day, thought the captain ruefully. 

“Thank you for the report, soldier.  I am sorry for the loss of your unit as well as your general. He was a good man.”

Uthid considered the fact that Fashav was taken alive at all and that he was not only a general but a close relative to the Sun-King seemed to bode better for him.  Perhaps he could be kept alive by this Chief Hekarro and ransomed back by the crown?  But these Tenakth were far more blood thirsty than the other nearby tribes and wouldn’t likely hold back paying back their retribution in blood, even in noble blood. Best not to hope, despite the general’s well-earned reputation for grit and toughness.

After the report, the captain left the younger soldier in the medical bay and instructed his attending medic that he could be discharged and reassigned when ready, as the rest of his unit was completely gone.  Uthid then departed back east towards Meridian to personally inform the Sun-King and the rest of High Command of what happened at Cinnabar Sands.  The road was long and hot and he had much to ponder.

Would they learn from those lessons?  Uthid wasn’t so sure.  He was himself a lifelong soldier and belonged in the field with his men.  He cared little for politics.  He knew the Sun-King’s word was law and yet every time he had to return to Meridian or Sunfall, he had a progressively more uneasy feeling over Jiran’s bloodlust and religious zealotry.  He never had the stomach for the escalating atrocities over the last decade. If anything, it was making the derangement worse if reports of especially lethal machines like Redmaw were any indication.  Yet Jiran preferred the advice of soothsayers and religious fanatics over more experienced men who would tell him the truth to their own peril. 

This first major battle with the Tenakth seemed an ill omen. They were supreme warriors and they certainly had the home advantage and massive numbers between the three clans unlike the more sparsely populated Banuk or Nora.  His apprehension did not improve after he gave his own report back in Meridian.  The High Command, now without General Fashav, seemed more likely to abandon reason and embrace the hubris and madness of its king. The plan was to send more troops out into the west but further southeast of Plainsong. Uthid mentally wished them luck and would continue to do the best he could.

Meanwhile, the young soldier was getting his strength back quickly enough.  He was assigned as a spotter for watch duty until his splint was ready to come off.  He observed each day as more Carja troops from the east came through Barren Light as they made their way towards the next battle.  But after several days, practically no one came back. Word got back of the fight, dubbed the Battle of the Burning Blooms, that yet again the Carja were severely outmatched by the Tenakth and Utaru forces. Tales had already returned to Barren Light of that the literal firepower had unleashed by firing their Oseram canons again on scores of Carja. The carnage and smell of burnt bodied was truly horrifying according to the stories that were coming back east. The only survivors had been marched to the far west to be prisoners in a jail rumored to be called the Rot. 

To add insult to injury, another Tenakth force had soon after driven the Carja soldiers out of the outpost of Riverwatch. Losses large and small were quickly stacking up like the bodies themselves and tensions were running high.  The young soldier was keen to test himself again in battle as he thought of little else since he was stuck on watch duty with his still injured ankle, but he did not want to die recklessly for a lost cause.  That certainly seemed a likelihood given the outcomes of the most recent battles.

When the full strength of Hekarro’s forces came literally knocking at their western doors barely ten days after Cinnabar Sands, the Carja army prepared to make what stand they could in Barren Light.  A sea of Lowland, Desert, and Sky Clan warriors stood in front of the western gates full of vengeful eyes determined to further punish the maniacal Sun-King’s forces.  A siege looked imminent, but at least the Carja outpost stood fairly well protected in front of the stone walls with the red cliffs of the Daunt as a natural barrier. That is until nightfall. 

The Carja needed every last man who could wield a blade to stay on guard for an attack, which they assumed would come from a front assault on the western gates.  The young soldier was issued a short sword and told to report to the eastern half of the outpost to guard the gates nearly as an afterthought.  He grabbed his own bow and walked as quickly as his still tender ankle allowed to the eastern gates. He tried to stare out into the eastern darkness to watch, but it was clear that back west was the clear danger with the three united clans bent on the Carja’s destruction.

A large Tenakth warrior in the blue and dark pink Sky Clan colors moved across the cliff face in the dark of night. He was followed by the shape of another smaller Tenakth warrior in similar garb.  More agile than a man his size should have been, he had little trouble traversing the rock face even in the low light.  Having grown up at the Bulwark, clearly they both were well in their element climbing the face of the cliff. None of the Carja even saw the pair until the larger Tenakth was about to drop behind the wall. The young Carja soldier spotted them and called out to raise the alarm.  Silence.  No one responded.  He alone was guarding the whole back half of the fort all by himself.

“Sun God protect us…” he ground out more in frustration than praying for protection as he nocked his bow. The first arrow just missed in the near dark and just as he tried to reload, the Tenakth man jumped from his handhold from ten meters almost straight above him and landed right on top of him.  They both crumpled to the ground in a deadly embrace, then rolled away from each other.  The bow went flying from the younger soldier's hands.  The still healing ankle buckled and made him scream from the impact, but with sheer will, he made it back to his feet so he could draw his sword.

They stared at each other frozen for a brief moment.  Both were of a similar height, but with the Tenakth being about five years older and in prime shape was likely over ten kilograms heavier and more muscled than the young Carja soldier.

They started to circle each other bladed weapons in hand, the nearly black eyes locked onto the silvery blue ones. Those dark eyes glowed with malice like coals in the torchlight. The large man’s upper lips were raised in an unnerving snarl showing off his white teeth, eager to get revenge on any Carja that stood in his way.  The Carja soldier tried to avoid limping as best as he could to not give away his weakness. He felt a trickle of fear as this powerful man was surely a worthy opponent, but he also gladly sense the rush of adrenaline and now familiar rage fill him as well. 

The Tenakth rushed at him with ferocity and the Carja pulled to the side laterally, trying to evade the first cut and answered with a return strike of his own.  He caught the Tenakth on the well-tattooed skin of the ribs with a shallow slicing cut and again with a close cut to the Tenakth's lip and chin, which did not even seem to register with the large man.  They clashed again, this time both blocking each other with their respective one-handed swords.  They both fought for dominance in the bind, but the Tenakth being heavier and mostly uninjured was starting to overcome the younger soldier’s position. Knowing this was not likely a place he could win, the Carja soldier decided to change tactics. Grunting in pain, he squatted slightly and pushed with the blade upwards with all his strength to separate the two of them back into a more neutral fighting position several meters apart. 

The Tenakth noted the bobble in the step of the younger soldier and decided to let him close the distance.  He parried the first strike the younger soldier tried and once the distance was closed, he quickly lifted his right leg and kicked him square in the unarmored torso right where the ribcage met the stomach.  He was struck with such strength that he was thrown backwards into an empty stall used by vendors and merchants at Barren Light.  In the awkward fall, he caught the edge of a support pole and the wooden stall collapsed on top of him.  He roared with fury and tried to rise. Between a beam of wood trapping him over his hips and the blinding pain in his ankle, he realized he couldn’t get up. Breathing hard through clenched teeth, he tried to master his growing panic as he realized the situation was dire.

The Tenakth strode forward eagerly sword in hand to dispatch his younger opponent, who was groaning and scrambling in vain under the weight of the wood beam that had fallen on him and had him pinned. Sandaled footsteps of another person approached quickly.

“Kotallo!” his fellow squad member hissed as she caught up to him.  “Leave him!  No one else is back here.  We need to get to the west gates to let in Regalla’s forces.  We don’t have time to waste.”

“Fine, Gerrah. Let’s go,” he half growled in protest, but turned away to follow her back deeper into the dim torchlight of the outpost. 

Chapter Text

The Assassin

Minutes after the pair of Tenakth let their fellow soldiers in through the western walls, the young soldier was still left all alone pinned under a heavy wood beam in the courtyard.  After struggling without improvement, he was able to reach another wood board and wedge it under the beam, but with the badly injured ankle, he couldn’t lift up with his hips.

Fortunately for him, it did not take long before the other Carja soldiers started trickling back to the east side of the fort when it was clear the west side was going to be overrun once Kotallo and Gerrah had let the Tenakth forces in through the interior west gates.  The chanting and war screams of the Tenakth was getting louder as it echoed through the halls.  The young soldier called for help and thankfully two fleeing Carja ran over to assist.  He practically screamed in pain as they hauled him back to his feet. One tossed him his bow and quiver, which had been dropped in the fight with the big Tenakth, while another found him a long wood stick to use as a crutch.

“Go on!” he ground out through the pain. “I’ll hold them off and cover you as best as I can.”

The two other soldiers looked at each other and did not need to be told a second time.  The last he heard of them was the pounding of their retreating footsteps as he limped to the nearest cover in the courtyard right next to the now open eastern gates:  a messy pile of wood crates discarded by merchants.  He rearranged them as best as he could as he heard the Tenakth approach his position.  He ducked breathlessly behind the crates, which were just tall enough to allow him to crouch and shoot from. 

He considered just staying there and waiting for the Tenakth to come.  They may not even look too closely and he could stay hidden. But the soon to be victorious warriors would likely come looking for spoils and wealth of the Carja empire and those crates would be a prime target.  Sighing to himself that he found himself in a tight spot for the second time in less than two weeks, he resolved he’d have to fight.  He again felt an unexpected surge of aggression as he steadied himself.

A few more overrun Carja soldiers sprinted into the courtyard with a small squad of Tenakth in hot pursuit.  He prepped his bow and fired as quickly as possible on the enemy soldiers.  He fell over a dozen one by one as soon as they rushed into the courtyard.  He went to grab another arrow and realized there was nothing left in the quiver.  Shit, he cursed silently. He was going to be nearly useless if it came to hand-to-hand combat again. But he would go down swinging if it came to it.

Moments later, one last pair of Carja soldiers came rushing through the far hallways and barreled through the courtyard.  One man was older with a bald pate and grey muttonchop beard while the other was a bit younger with a muscular build and brown hair.  They saw the young soldier as he stepped out from behind the crate grimacing and leaning on the walking stick. They were being chased by a few swift Tenakth not fifty meters behind.

“Over here! Help me pull these down!” yelled the young soldier as he gestured to the stack of crates.

They ran to him and assisted him through the gates while pulling the crates down in such a way to at least partially block the opening once they got themselves through.  They took off into the night as quickly as his injury would allow, hoping the extra few seconds of inconvenience would discourage the Tenakth from pursuing them. The young soldier glanced back over his shoulder into the torchlight.  He could see the one he heard called Kotallo staring back at him with his unnerving dark eyes through the gap in the gate. It was as if the big warrior was memorizing his form as he faded into the black moonless night of the Daunt. But they lucked out and the Tenakth elected not to follow.

The trio of beaten Carja soldiers made their way back in the direction of the encampment of Chainscrape under the cover of darkness. It was barely a bump in the road compared to the settlement it would become in a few years, so they stopped only briefly to rest before retreating further east back into the territory of the Sundom.

The young soldier found out that the two Carja soldiers helping him were a pair of brothers named Urid and Ryas. Both officers, their father was a well-known Kestrel who Ligan knew as well, as he had a reputation as a good machine hunter and passed down the skills to his two sons.  Urid was the older bald man with the grey facial hair and Ryas was younger, though still older than the young soldier they were helping.

The brothers bound up his ankle and assisted him as best as they could.  They paid a stitcher who was traveling back east for a ride in her cart for their injured comrade. The stitcher had a stall in Barren Light a week before it fell to the Tenakth and she had gotten out just in time to pick up more supplies.  The soldiers learned that they were among the very last of the Carja force to make it back now that the Tenakth had control of Barren Light and were pushing up to Chainscrape as well. 

They had many questions for the stitcher and others they met on the road back to the Sundom.  Would Hekarro the chief push further to the east? To Meridian itself?  With all three clans united, it was certainly possible but unclear. Either way, it seemed like the Carja empire’s reign of terror in the Forbidden West was over at least for now. Truth be told, it was likely nearly as much of a relief to the Carja soldiers as it was to the Tenakth and Utaru.  Jiran and the High Command clearly had underestimated the Tenakth forces with this campaign and perhaps they finally had the sense to pause on the western front.

The young soldier and the brothers intended to report back for duty in Sunfall at the Citadel once they arrived, but decided to stay out for one last night of freedom before being reassigned elsewhere.  They selected an alehouse popular with soldiers.  It was full of people drinking and dicing and even a few pretty girls, which he merely rolled his eyes at and ignored.  At least two dozen Carja gathered around their table to hear their stories from the Daunt.  Urid and Ryas toasted the young soldier loudly for his skill with the bow and the felling of at least a dozen Tenakth warriors.  They all listened with rapt attention when the young soldier told of surviving one on one combat with one of the best warriors the Tenakth had, thereby allowing their escape even on what was likely a broken ankle. The whole tavern erupted into raucous cheers with several people nearby clapping him on the shoulder as Ryas lifted his glass again. 

Another man toasted the Sun-King’s health and future victories and yet the cheers were not nearly as vigorous as the men exchanged slightly uncomfortable looks.  Finally, a more somber glass was raised in tribute for General Fashav and his men at Cinnabar Sands.  All joined in, but it further dampened the mood a bit as well.  At this point, most of the alehouse patrons slid back to their own amusements at their tables, but the young soldier’s legend started to grow.

The next day the three reported back to the Citadel.  The pair of brothers were to be shipped out back east as it did seem like the west was lost for now.  They wished each other well and all hoped they would make it through the war. 

The young soldier gave a formal debriefing of both the events of Cinnabar Sands and the Daunt and his ankle was evaluated by the best medic in Sunfall.  It was either very badly sprained or broken, so the foot was splinted again and he was instructed to rest with only light duty until it was fully healed. He again declined to mention the headaches and sometimes irrational changes in his mood where he would feel aggressive and agitated at seemingly random times.

During this time, the officers above him were impressed with the reports they had heard and decided to recommend him for formal Kestrel training.  They could tell he had natural skill when it came to stealth and hand to hand combat.  Now that he had been properly blooded and proven in battle, there was no sense in keeping him for cannon fodder when he could conceivably take out high value targets within the enemies of the Carja.

The military would have normally sent him to Sandwhisper Valley for more advanced training to be sure he could handle becoming a Kestrel, but the injury held him back.  A large share of the Carja military had been destroyed during the Forbidden West campaign, so the High Command decided to spare him and other young candidates the trials in the desert.

While the ankle was on the mend, he was instead given more instruction on things like advanced stealth in the field, the infiltration of enemy camps, learning the different language dialects and inflections of the Oseram, Banuk, and Nora and how they differed from his own noble Carja lilt so he could blend in. His injury took about three months to stabilize but nearly six whole months until he felt at full function. He enjoyed the more sit-down training, but practically daily he visited the training grounds to watch the other soldiers drill and spar.  He felt cagey and restless and between lectures, found himself shadow boxing and practicing knife fighting patterns. Finally the day came when his ankle was evaluated and he was deemed fit to return to service.  He was immediately sent east and was more than ready to prove himself.

The next two years were difficult.  Once he was cleared, he was assigned to the command of a cruel captain named Zaid in the eastern lands of the Nora.  Zaid was affable and friendly on the surface to his own men, but he had no qualms about resorting to torture and brutal executions for his enemies. The young soldier had barely turned eighteen but had already witnessed heinous atrocities and performed others under the guise of his new duty as an assassin.  He saw children tortured to give up the location of their parents and whole generations of young people around his age in villages and settlements rounded up and slain just so they couldn’t resist. While he was not part of these efforts by the Carja, he still had orders to complete some stealth kills in order to “make an impression,” or so said Captain Zaid.

Serving under Zaid’s unit, one of his first assignments after he had completed the advanced training as a specialized force for the Kestrels was to assassinate the Nora War-Chief and her mate. He was not told who his targets were beforehand in case he was captured and fell into enemy hands, only their location with instructions to kill everyone present. The War-Chief herself was not there that night due to faulty intelligence.  But her mate who was father to two of her children did fall to the bowstring of the young soldier late one night. The assassin slipped away silently out of their tent before anyone realized what had happened to the Nora man, who was a capable and well liked Brave and warrior in his own right. His body was discovered by his mate the next morning with several well-placed headshots. Her screams for vengeance were truly something to behold. It was the first time he heard a relative of someone he killed vow to seek justice, as he crouched hidden not more than one hundred paces from their tent. But it wouldn't be the last.

The normal goodwill between Carja nobility and the Sun-King were also fracturing at this time.  The young soldier hardly ever received correspondence from his parents as it was seen as a distraction to the troops. All letters were taken, given a cursory inspection, and distributed to the addressed party if they were deemed appropriate.  However, a rare letter came through for the assassin.

As he opened the letter, he saw it was from his parents, which was how he got word about what they called the Massacre in the Sun-Ring.  Carefully tucked into a scroll wishing him a happy nineteenth birthday was a tiny piece of parchment that evaded unfriendly eyes.  He quietly rolled the parchment out on his bed roll in his tent and read the scrap from his father Ligan with dread.

It reported that many of those he had been trained by in the Hunter’s Lodge as a younger boy and teenager had fallen to a particularly violent Behemoth in the Sun-Ring.  The deaths included the Sunhawk Talavad Khane Padish and his son Brativin, in addition to several other prominent Hawks and thrushes of the Lodge.  Talavad’s daughter Talanah (who had gone to school with the young soldier and was of a similar age) had escaped the city just in time.

He could feel the anguish and sorrow of his father even in the brevity of the short note. He had retired as a full Hawk after his son had left for the war but still helped where he could.  The son imagined the powerlessness Ligan must have felt being forced to watch his good friends being torn apart by machines after hours of exhausting battle in the ring of death. 

He had killed scores of the Sundom’s enemies by bow or blade at this point in his military career. Men, women, children, elders, Tenakth, Nora, Oseram, Banuk, it didn’t matter.  And he did not mind doing so, at least the adults.  Murdering someone’s Oseram grandmother for trying to hide a teenager designated for the Sun-Ring was beneath him. The killing of children was...distasteful.  And dishonorable.  Luckily as a skilled Kestrel assassin, they were never his assigned target so he didn't have to visibly protest, even if he saw it happen in passing.  That unpalatable task was left for the lesser soldiers. He preferred the challenge of a difficult target.  Those were the kills he reveled in with the more skill and experience he got, but only if they put up a proper fight.    

He still never developed any real friendships with his fellow soldiers beyond perfunctory and necessary acquaintances.  He was polite but chilly of familiarity. The few days in solidarity and one night at the alehouse with Ryas and Urid were the closest he had gotten to having friends of sorts and of course, it was short lived once they were shipped off as well.  He was getting respect and accolades for the first time in his life from his peers, even if they were a bit afraid of him. He did not invite their company or fellowship.  In fact, if someone was new to the unit and tried to be friendly to the tall, intense assassin, other soldiers quickly informed them to steer clear of him.  But respect tinged with fear was better than no respect at all. 

But for the first time after the arrival of the letter, this war felt personal.  After a decade of butchery, lines were finally being drawn in the sand within the Carja themselves after the Massacre. There was the unspoken implication from his father about which side his son was currently aligned with.  A deep unease was brought on by the news from this terrible war with no clear end in sight. The worst part was that it was self-perpetuated by the Mad King who may or may not have been his actual father.

But what was he supposed to do?  Defect and sneak away under the cover of a new moon?  Flee home to Meridian to reunite with his parents and pray they wouldn’t get caught and summarily executed?  Run to another tribe and surrender himself for judgement and beg for mercy?  Who would have him, unabashed killer of their loved ones that he was?

He decided to stay the course for now.  Slitting throats and burrowing arrows into the enemies of the Sundom while striking fear in their hearts seemed what he was good at.  Standing in solidarity with his father against the king seemed to be an invitation to a brutal end in the Sun-Ring.  So until the tide truly turned, he would continue to leave a bloody trail of his own making.

The worst fracture yet was still to come as Jiran’s own flesh and blood had soon had enough.

Chapter Text

The Glinting Shadow

Kadaman the favored son.

Kadaman the voice of the reason.

Kadaman the dead.

Word traveled quickly to the eastern front during those last months and days of Sun-King Jiran.  Shock and disbelief ran through the camps and settlements through allies and enemies alike from Sunfall to Mother’s Cradle.  Within the Carja ranks, the news hit the soldiers like a vengeful Stormbird.  At first, even the true believer loyalists and lickspittles were a bit surprised.  Jiran had killed upwards of a thousand innocent souls in the Sun-Ring in his unrepentant delusions and far greater numbers directly in this conflict with the four other tribes.  But that he was truly mad enough that he would kill his own son?  Impossible. 

But it was true.  The cracks that were only whispers of disloyalty had now begun to show.  With the news also came word that his younger brother Avad had fled Meridian that night and had joined up with some Oseram allies in the Claim.  Slowly, slowly, just a mere trickle at first, but more and more Carja started to defect as the next few months went on.  Soldiers would wake up to see an empty bunk or bedroll.  Guards chosen for night watch duty would simply not report back in the morning.  Carja camps had to enact curfews for the soldiers to ensure they were not sneaking off into the wilds in the dead of night. Those that were caught were generally tortured and killed, though they were given a quick death if they gave up any co-conspirators to treason.

For the assassin, nothing outwardly changed.  For his twentieth birthday, he received another letter from his parents who simply wished him a happy birthday and that they hoped he would be allowed to return home soon.  No hidden messages or code. None was needed.  He knew how they felt, but it did not change the fact he could not leave.

He still cared nothing for the king’s insane cause, but he knew that he had likely killed too many to be welcomed into the fold of the prince’s resistance or anywhere else for that matter. Even if they were potentially half-brothers.  Not that anyone likely knew of that possibility beyond his parents and the king himself.

But perhaps it was no mistake that the assassin was still assigned mostly to Nora territory and not Oseram.  Maybe less likely that a valuable asset such as himself would fall into temptation to slip away like quite a few already had.  But what if the throne should fall?  Well, that was a different story.  But for now, he was effectively in too deep.  And yet at some point, the madness must end.  The bloodshed could not go on forever.  His time in the west had proved that if united, their enemies could defeat them soundly.  Then what was he to do with himself?  Who even was he except a finely sharpened tool? A dark instrument of death never loved, only to be feared?

Being a high level assassin did have its benefits though.  Not long after the death of Kadaman, the assassin was told to report to the master armorer for the entire Carja army, who was visiting their encampment. When on a mission, the assassin was accustomed to generally wearing a brown hooded cloak with a few basic pieces of plated machine armor underneath near his skin, but nothing bulky or ostentatious as the goal was to be unseen and allow freedom of movement. Thus he was not exactly sure what to expect as he strode through the entrance of the tent.

He was greeted by the armorer and beckoned inside. The man was half Oseram on his father’s side, but had lived in the Sundom his whole life performing and perfecting his trade. His Oseram roots apparently made him quite the tinkerer.  Any of his armor sets would be highly sought after for both soldiers and hunters alike.  There on a mannequin inside the tent lay displayed one of the most unique pieces of armor he had ever seen.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the armorer said with great pride.  “She’s yours.  My finest work yet and the absolute latest technology.  This will certainly keep you from unfriendly eyes.”

“It seems…familiar.  What’s it made from?” the assassin gently touched the glossy black hexagonal plates overlaid on top of a black cloak.

“Good eye.  I think you’ll be able to figure it out in a moment.  Let me show you.”

The armorer slipped the heavy garment off the mannequin and onto the assassin’s shoulders, who shifted it to a comfortable position and placed his arms through the sleeves.

“You can feel the extra weight, which is not ideal for one of your job description.  However, this is the tradeoff! Do you feel a button inside the cuff of the left sleeve? Push it.”

As soon as the assassin did so, his whole covered torso nearly disappeared in an instant.  He gasped. He could see his bare hands and lower legs that were not covered by the cloak while everything else seemed almost completely see through except a slight shimmering effect.

“They must be Stalker machine plates!  This is truly incredible,” said the assassin, not even bothering to keep the awe out of his voice.

“Correct. It is fashioned from the plates of several Stalkers, which I understand you are quite familiar with coming from the Hunter’s Lodge.  While it is indeed beautiful, it is the function you see or rather don’t see that my team is most proud of.  It has an integrated power cell derived from the tech the Stalkers use.  This powers its primary function, though it can be limiting for some users due to the weight.  As our best and strongest assassin within the Kestrels, this is why you are being allowed to use it first,” answered the armorer. “Try to move in it a bit.  See what you think.”

The assassin practiced walking and crouching around the area of the tent.  It was indeed heavier than most of his preferred armor, but the ability to use such a powerful stealth tool made it more than worth it.  The armorer jotted down some notes as he observed the younger man and took some measurements to tailor it to his exact frame.  The assassin continued to marvel at the garment and explained further his appreciation.

“There was a Hawk named Ghalidid who first started hunting these machines when they turned up in the jungles near the Jewel when I was a boy.  I was about seven or eight when he got his first trophy. My father let me stay up late listening to him telling stories in the Lodge.  He called them ‘that which walks in glinting shadow.’  They were always my favorite. Their black scales always gave them a unique look.”

“Glinting shadow, eh?” chuckled the armorer. “Well, that name probably suits you best of all.  I know you prolific Carja warriors like taking names for yourselves.  The Glinting Shadow seems appropriate. This will be yours now to wear on the secret missions. It is so advanced, it has not been tested in battle yet. Keep its use secret for now, even from the other soldiers, until your next mission.  After that…well, nothing wrong with having even a bit more intimidation factor built into your already not inconsiderable reputation.”

The assassin nodded and promised to pick the armor up the next morning after the armorer had made a few adjustments for fit.  His next mission target was a traveling Oseram envoy who was trying to make inroads of unity to the most western Nora encampments.  He was kneeling by a river refilling a waterskin as the assassin was able to walk right up to him.  One of his easiest kills ever.  His prey never saw him or his death coming. Just a slash across the neck as he bled out, desperately scrambling to take hold of the nothingness that had ended his life.

After a few more targets, the assassin found he could make his kills with nearly surgical precision due to the closeness he could now get to his targets. Yet he was still able to make a virtually silent retreat until the bloody corpse was found. He continued kept the exact nature of the Stalker cloak as secret as possible, but didn’t mind when he heard the other men talking about him.

Several months later, the eastern forces were abruptly told to pull out for assignment closer to home.  Rumors were swirling that the other tribes were finally going to unite behind Avad the exile and the other defectors for a final push to take Meridian back and depose his father Jiran. All Carja forces were needed to defend the capital, so the troops started the long trip back to the Sundom.

Once the military was back in Meridian, he had hoped that he would have been able to see his parents, if only briefly as he had not seen them in person in three years.  He was immediately denied that request.  Too distracting and unimportant.  Protection of the Sundom and the king was all that mattered now. 

To his surprise upon his return, he was immediately summoned to the Sun-King’s private audience chamber for the first time ever.  This alarmed him immensely as he knew the king must be very paranoid at this point.  He had kept his head down and followed orders, but he knew he was far from universally well liked amongst his fellows.  Ligan was likely still under suspicion following the Massacre of the Hunter’s Lodge members.  If one of the other men that had defected and was caught, who knew what other names might slip under the duress of torture?

He was instructed to report to the palace that very evening of his arrival.  He wore the more standard Carja formal dress, including the usual white machine plate top, red scarf, and flowing red feather headdress.  He did not want to attract undue attention to himself with the king with the Stalker cloak.  Despite being a skilled Kestrel (or perhaps because of it, he pondered), he was made to give up his weapons at the entrance. The assassin entered when admitted and knelt and bowed his head before his sovereign seated on a wood chair decorated with gold on a raised platform. He remembered the rules of the court even though he had not been in attendance since he was a teenager.  Say nothing and do nothing unless spoken or directed was the best plan.

“Ah, there he is, the Glinting Shadow!  Our best assassin amongst my prized Kestrels.  Let me have a look at you, my boy,” said the king with an almost leering half smile. He stood up and stepped down from the dais and bade the assassin to rise. Walking up to him, he clapped him about the shoulders and appraised him.

“Tall, dark hair, and handsome.  Very handsome indeed.  Such a good lad.  I’m sure you make your…father very proud, yes?”

He felt a prickle of unease but showed no emotion with his answer.  He was not sure if this was a test.  Keeping answers short would be best.

“Yes, Your Radiance.”

“And your beautiful mother! I have not seen her at court in many moons.  How is she?”

“I have not seen her or my…father since I enlisted.  So I hope they are well enough, Your Radiance.”

“Very good, very good.  Well, it would seem you are all they say and more.  Like one of our brilliant machines, so good at…the kill,” said Jiran with an appreciative dark chuckle.  “General Helis himself will brief you himself on your next mission. It is a critically important assignment for you.  Should you succeed, you will be handsomely rewarded and be raised up even higher. You can win this war for us. And who knows?  One day when our enemies are dead and the Sun shines brightly on us again, you could be in very high places indeed.”

Jiran smirked again and nodded in dismissal, his toothy smile and painted eyelids giving him a predatory, leonine expression as he turned and retreated back toward the gilded chair. Suddenly time stood still for the assassin. Blood started to pound in his ears.

What if I could end it all? Right now?

The assassin felt the now familiar rush of sudden aggression and with these thoughts, he had the almost irresistible urge to sprint forward, grab the psychotic despot from behind, and snap his neck with all his strength. 

Even the guards would take a few moments to close in to his position and by then, he would achieve what no one else could.  He could end the entire foolish war in a single blow. Avad’s forces could rush the city that same day if they could strike quickly and the younger prince could pluck the crown for himself like a ripe fruit from an unguarded tree.  

He took a quiet but deep breath and tried to wait until the sensation started to fade.  It would be suicide, there are too many guards, I would never want to be taken alive, he thought to himself.  It would be an end for him as well.  But at least it would be a noble one.  Perhaps that’s all he was good for:  his own death the catalyst to stop many more. How fitting. He had to believe his parents would understand.

He took a half step forward, but with the tunnel vision that often accompanied the worse of these episodes, he did not notice the older man behind him until he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. He stopped in his tracks at the voice he heard next.

“Soldier, welcome back to Meridian. We have need of you tonight.”

The assassin turned at looked right into the face of the man he first met three long years ago in his father’s study.  Icy cold blue grey eyes bored into his own.  He was reminded uncannily of a machine’s eye.  Appraising, searching, looking for signs of deceit or betrayal.  Not dead but not truly alive.  It brought the assassin out of the trance and he made sure his face was a neutral, respectful mask.

“General Helis, I am at your service. It is an honor to serve.”

“Indeed.  Come and walk with me.”

They strode away with Helis keeping a fast pace.  The general found an empty meeting room nearby and they both entered.  Helis shut the door and both men sat down on chairs.

“I will keep this brief as you will need to prepare.  We have received word that our enemies are preparing to unite against us. As you likely have heard, the traitor Avad has taken up with Oseram freebooters and our sources believe they will try to attack Meridian very soon.  Perhaps as early as this evening or the next as it seems they are amassing their forces not far outside the gates.  We of course can stop them.  That is not your concern.  What you will be tasked with is taking out some high profile targets within that contingent since they are or will be very soon knocking right at our door.”

The assassin nodded his understanding.

“As usual, you and the other special forces Kestrels like yourself will not be given the identities of your targets to protect us if you were to be captured.  Just the location. Any questions?”

The assassin shook his head.  Helis passed a piece of parchment to the assassin with the location of the next target and got up as if he was in some hurry to leave.

“Oh…and one last thing…Glinting Shadow…” said the Terror of the Sun with a clear sneer in his voice and on his lips. “If you even remotely consider betraying your king, the next time you’ll ever see your parents again is in the Sun-Ring.  Because you all will die there together.”   

He left without another word, the unveiled threat looming heavily. The assassin’s stomach turned to ice.  Had Helis seen him eye the Sun-King with bad intent?  Or was the desertion rate so high that the generals were worried that even the finely groomed Kestrels were turning their cloaks?

Either way, it was too late to do much contemplation now.  He would continue do his duty to the crazed king and his generals.  He made his way to the barracks, ate a perfunctory meal while ignoring everyone else as usual, and readied himself for the mission that night.  As he left the city gates, the waxing moon rose over the plateaus and the clear skies shone with stars.  Should be easy enough to sneak into the rebel camp. 

He did not always wonder about his targets very much.  It was easier that way.  However, it had certainly been impressed on him that tonight was a high value target indeed. 

If the Oseram freebooters and Carja rebels meant to attack in the next twenty-four hours, he assumed his target was likely the brother sister pair he had heard was leading their force. The brother was reported to be a large and capable warrior with a war hammer and the sister was said to be just as ferocious.  She had a reputation herself of eluding death in the Sun-Ring, defeating both man and machine to earn a pardon.  It would certainly take the wind out of the rebel sails if two of their higher up leaders were eliminated. But it would take all his skill aided with the Stalker cloak to get into the camp, eliminate the pair without alarming the rest of the camp, and get out alive. 

Finding the camp was simple enough.  It was out in the open not far from Meridian with minimum security.  Whether that was due to not wanting to spare soldiers to keep guard duty or possibly to entice more Carja defectors directly from the city, it was hard to say.  But the assassin easily found the tent under the cover of darkness indicated on the scrap of paper from the intelligence received from their spies.  After activating the Stalker cloak, he listened at the flap for voices, but heard nothing from inside to indicate there were multiple people conversing.  Just the noises from nearby campfires. 

Was he mistaken?  Surely this was not where the brother and sister were. But the note specified this particular tent at this location. It was plain enough lodging on the outside.  A soldier’s tent. Not like some Carja High Command’s mobile command center. 

Well concealed by the cloak, he crouched, drew his long knife, lifted the flap of the door of the tent silently, and slowly crawled inside. It was lit by a single oil lantern with just a cot and a table and chairs as simple furnishings.  The sole inhabitant of the tent was seated at the table pouring over maps and rolls of parchment by lamplight.  And he was anything but a simple soldier. The assassin froze in a crouch and involuntarily let out the quietest breath.

Avad heard the noise, head snapping up from the parchments.  He could not see the figure kneeling just a few steps away, but he saw the gleam of the drawn blade in the lantern light.  Avad looked around frantically, knowing his end was near but not seeing it.  He yelped in surprise as a not quite corporeal figure stood and materialized in front of him as the cloak was deactivated. The tall outline of the hooded man gleamed in black glossy armor in the low light.

“The Glinting Shadow,” Avad said with as much resolve as he could muster. The figure nodded and paused before lowering the hood and scarf.

“It’s you!” Avad gasped and stared at the now recognized face, not quite believing that this is how it would end for him. He could handle a weapon passably well enough, but against this elite Kestrel assassin unarmed and caught off guard, he had no chance.  He remembered seeing the assassin’s prowess with a blade as a young teenager even when they were both in school.  He took a breath and he hoped he sounded braver than he felt. 

“Have you come to finish it then? So my father can finally win?”

The assassin looked like an avenging angel of death.  He was pale. His face was impassive and emotionless. But his eyes shone like the armor plates he wore, outlined by the dark kohl markings and his Stalker tattoo. He locked eyes with Avad and said nothing for many moments.

“No.”

Without warning, he knelt before the prince.  Avad could not help but flinch slightly at the movement but did not move away.  The very much feared assassin bowed his head to the man who would be king and offered up the long knife.

And suddenly he fell to the dirt floor as the world spun and went black. 

Chapter Text

The Captive

Pain throbbed a drumbeat on the back of his skull.  The assassin heard voices as he was face down in the dirt, slowly coming back to consciousness. His head hurt badly, but he knew to stay in place instead of trying to touch the likely bleeding wound.  He didn’t attempt to move but could tell his wrists were bound behind him.  He cracked his eyelids ever so slightly to see who had entered the tent.

“Dammit, Avad!” cursed a big Oseram man with a brown mohawk and thick bushy facial hair. “I told you we need full time security for you. You are too important to lose!”

“We leave you for ten minutes to get ready to move out and it’s the fucking Glinting Shadow of all people who sneaks in to make an attempt on your life. The same Glinting Shadow who I’ll remind you is the most notorious assassin in the entire Carja military!” snarled a woman with short dark hair.

The prince was silent. He rubbed his tired eyes and sighed.

“I…I don’t actually think he was going to harm me.  That may have been what he was sent to do.  But he looked like he was going to surrender. Before you knocked him out, Erend.”

“Shhhh!  I think he’s about to come to,” warned Erend.  “Help me flip him over, Ersa.  But double check those ropes before you do. He’s very dangerous. We can’t risk him attacking us or escaping, even without his weapons.”

“Nice to know someone appreciates my talents,” the assassin said dryly from down in the dirt.

“Ah, so he is awake.  Set him up,” said Ersa.

He was assisted into a sit.  The cloak was missing and he was only outfitted in his plain black tunic, trousers, and scarf. His beloved bow and blades were gone and his wrists were tied behind him with rope. 

“We don’t have time for this.  We need to get going.  But questioning him may be useful. Before he’s executed at least,” said Erend lifting an eyebrow.

The assassin glared at the big Oseram but said nothing.

“Okay, tell us why you are here.  We don’t have much time,” said Ersa.

“The prince is correct.  I was sent here to eliminate whoever was in this tent based on intelligence the Carja received. We are not informed of the identity of our targets beforehand for several reasons, but I honestly thought it would probably be you two.”

The siblings exchanged a look and waited for him to go on.

“The Sun-King himself doesn’t fight his own battles. I would not have anticipated that Prince Avad would have been here in person in this encampment to lead the strike on Meridian. That is not a slight on you at all, it’s just not what your father is known for. So that is impressive at least,” he inclined his head at the prince.

“Alright, but if you were sent to…uh…kill him, what happened right as we walked into the tent? Before I…uh…got you with the butt of the spear?” asked Erend.

“Mmmm…figured that was you. How’s the back of my head by the way?”

“The war criminal wants to lecture me? You should be glad it was a wood spear and not my war hammer that was left back in my campsite or we’d be picking your noble, well-educated Carja brains off the inside of the tent right now,” growled the big Oseram as he took a few steps forward.

“Tell me, Vanguardsmen. If you kill me in anger right now unarmed and trussed up like a roast pig, would that be a war crime too?” asked the assassin with a smirk.

“Enough!” said Ersa, getting in between her brother and the still seated assassin.  “By the Forge, it seems you have a death wish, but please.  Go on.”

“Alright.  Well, I suppose if Jiran and the Carja High Command did know the prince was here, perhaps it was a test of my own ability and loyalty to Jiran over the resistance.  It appears I failed the test,” the assassin said wryly. 

“But why did you fail it?  Why didn’t you go through with the…mission?” asked Avad.

The assassin paused and considered his next words.  This was not really the time to totally confess to his supposed enemies the question of his paternity and his reticence of killing a half-brother in cold blood.  Particularly if that half-brother could be a much greater king than their possibly shared father.  So he pivoted.

“To be honest, I very nearly killed Jiran myself just a few hours ago.”

“WHAT?” exclaimed all three as they gawked at him.

“Yes.  It is true.  I was alone with him earlier this afternoon with just a few guards.  I could have snapped his neck like a turkey slaughtered for dinner.  Maybe even grabbed a sword and fought my way out.  I could have ended it all for everyone.  And I was about to try…had the Terror of the Sun himself not held me back.  Then not long after, Helis threatened to kill me and my family in the Sun-Ring if I attempted to betray the king.

“I may excel with my skills as a killer.  I won’t deny it.  I’m good at it, same as any artist is with their craft.  And I like killing. It’s not a bad thing to love what you’re good at.  I’m not the first soldier or warrior to feel that way, even if I’m one of the few that’s honest about it,” he nodded and smiled at the brother and sister yet again. They both made a disparaging sound. 

“So you can punish me, torture me, execute me for my war crimes.  Yes, yes, all things I’m sure I would deserve and more.  I’m not the worst of us, but I am not going to claim innocence of what I did.  But I think it’s beyond time that this conflict come to an end.  Killing fellow warriors in a fair fight is one thing and I enjoy that immensely.  But children and elderly people? Families killed over and over again? And let's think...has it actually helped the machine derangement? No. No. This needs to end. I was willing to kill Jiran myself, even if that meant my own life was forfeit as well. But I think fate has something bigger in mind for our prince here.”

They remained silent and stunned, not quite sure what to think about what they just heard. 

“Avad, do you believe anything he said?  Sure, we’ve had defectors who have joined us.  Good soldiers like Balahn. But this one…” Ersa narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion.

Avad finally spoke, his tone both measured and grave.  For the first time, he looked less like the softer second son than the king he would become.

“Thank you for sharing what happened.  As you have heard, we mean to move on Meridian right away at first light.  For your own safety as much as ours, as it sounds like your life is forfeit should you be seen in Meridian by my father’s forces. So you cannot come with us, even bound and in custody.  We obviously cannot turn you loose, but we don’t have anyone to spare to guard you here.”

“Now hold on, he just told us he was willing to kill Jiran himself just this afternoon! Couldn’t we use him to do just that? Help him sneak back in and finish the job?” interrupted Erend eagerly. “And if it doesn’t happen to work out, well…no big deal, right?”

“No,” stated the assassin emphatically.  “I will atone for what I did. But I am not a machine beast to be loosed at will. Not anymore. I am not looking to trade one leash for another. Either way, I think it must be Avad who will need to prove himself by the day’s end.”

Ersa was quietly listening to his words and nodded her agreement.  Erend looked mildly disappointed but shrugged his shoulders and would defer to the others’ decision.

“It’s settled.  We’ll leave him here.  You two, take him outside and chain him to a post within the camp.  But make sure he has shade, a place to rest, and that he has both food and water until we can return,” said Avad, then turned back to the assassin.

“We will trust you not to escape. I vow to you when my father’s reign of terror is finally over, you will have a fair trial, I swear it.  We will take into consideration what happened here tonight.  Although it would have been easier to think of my father as already dead by your hand, I think the Sun God has something else in store for you and the rest of us.  There is still room for you in this world,” Avad said earnestly.

The prince took his leave and left the tent to make his final preparations for the morning assault.  Ersa and Erend escorted the assassin outside and shackled him to a stout wooden post under one of the few shade trees in the area. They did as their prince commanded and left him with a simple blanket, a meal leftover from the camp’s dinner preparations, and water to last the next day.  

It was nearly midnight when he finished the food.  A few soldiers who were still awake happened to walk by and noticed him in the torchlight seated on the ground shackled to the post.

“Is…is that the Glinting Shadow?” asked one with some disbelief as he squinted into the assassin’s direction.

“Appears so.  I’ve only heard rumors, though the legend is most people never are seen alive after he appears, ghost that he is,” said another.

“Wait, I know him!” exclaimed an older soldier. The assassin finally raised his head to look at the others.

“Urid?  Is that you?” asked the assassin in surprise after recognizing the grey muttonchops.

“It is, my friend! Glad to see you on this side of the Light. But I’m guessing this is a recent development?” he said pointing to the chains.

“Indeed.  Very recent as of a few minutes ago.”

“A tale for another time then.  Go on, fellas.  Get some rest,” said Urid to the other soldiers.  “I’ll speak with him alone.  He’s a good man and a fine soldier.  He won’t harm me...but I’m sure glad we’re not on opposite sides right now!”

He guffawed good naturedly as the others left them under the shadows. The older man sat on the ground next to the assassin.

“So…how have you been keeping?  I wasn’t sure if I’d see you again when we parted ways a few years ago. Or my brother for that matter,” he said, unable to keep a touch of sadness out of his voice.

“You mean Ryas?  So he still fights for Jiran?”

“Yes.  He’s been made a personal Kestrel of the Sun-King’s house guard.  That’s probably why you haven’t seen him if you’ve been on the eastern front.  I’m sure it made our father very proud,” Urid said with some bitterness.

“Well, I hope he stays safe. You are both good people. And sometimes good people end up on opposite sides in times like these. Maybe he’ll come around in the end.  My service to any man but myself is done. It may cost my life. Perhaps the life of my parents too. All depending on how tomorrow goes for you all,” the assassin said ruefully.  “I am not one to stay away from a fight.  But it seems the prince needs a sure victory tomorrow, so I am sitting this one out right here whether I will it or not.  So good luck, Urid.”

“May the Sun light your path, my young friend,” Urid said as he clasped the assassin on the shoulder as he rose from the ground.

“And yours,” replied the assassin as the older man headed off into the night back to his own tent.  The camp had grown quiet and the assassin laid down on the blanket as best he could to get some rest. His head still throbbed from the butt of the spear from the Oseram, but he slipped into a fitful sleep for a few hours.

Before sunrise, the ragtag group of Oseram and Carja defectors made their last preparations and headed towards the city at dawn.  Word of his capture in the night must have spread as more than a few other soldiers strolled just out of range of his chains to gawk at him in the early light.  But the assassin stayed true to his word and did not attempt escape. His reward was a hot bowl of grazer’s bounty stew from a kitchen boy so terrified of approaching him, he almost dumped the entire bowl in the sand.  For a man raised since boyhood to be the perfect soldier, it was rather surreal sitting in chains by himself in an empty camp eating cooling vegetable stew while he heard the boom of the now famous Oseram cannons in the distance. 

As he sat, he reflected not only on the events of the last twenty-four hours, but what both Avad and Urid had said.  Perhaps he would be granted a second chance some day if Avad’s forces overcame his father’s. Also for the first time in his life, he noticed he was called “friend” by another person.  He had known Urid and Ryas for less than a week, but he was struck by the kindness shown to him. Urid in particular surely would know much of the pull between what was right and wrong. Urid knew the stakes as he was climbing the mesa to the castle walls to reinforce the prince’s fighters within the walls of the palace at that very moment.  It stirred something good in the assassin for once.

Maybe there was more to life than being a sharp tool used for powerful men’s purposes.

Chapter Text

The Prisoner

Strange that a war could go on without ceasing for a decade and in less than a month, everything changes, mused the prisoner. 

He was in a cell by himself.  All in all, not too bad.  He was given a plain tunic and trousers to wear.  The food was almost tolerable, not too dissimilar to the food he was served in the military. A bedroll and a patch of clean straw to sleep on. A water basin to wash up with and a bucket as a latrine in the corner that was actually emptied daily. Could be worse, so he supposed there were a few perks to being a noble if rather infamous prisoner of war.

He remembered hearing about the morning of the Liberation, as the supporters of Avad were calling it.  The Oseram cannons had gotten Avad’s rebels inside the palace walls and his friend Urid had saved the day in just the nick of time when the rebels were surrounded by Jiran’s men. Earning the title the Arrow of the Sun, Urid and his men’s swift climb of the palace walls allowed the prince and Ersa the ability to finally face the diabolical Sun-King.  Word was that Avad himself had struck the killing blow to his father after seeing there was no way that Jiran would abdicate the throne without a fight. In truth, it was more likely Ersa's sister that slew Jiran with a sword stroke when Avad hesitated.

While that spelled the end of His Radiance Jiran the Thirteenth of the Line of Luminance, it did not completely end the fighting by any means. The loyalists to the Mad Sun-King took flight across the desert to Sunfall and started calling themselves the Carja in Shadow. Avad’s young half-brother Itamen was raised as a puppet ruler at the Citadel, though there were absolutely still Carja who didn’t love Avad still in Meridian.  He was seen as both the softer younger brother, but paradoxically the man who made it to the throne via patricide, a practically unforgiveable grievous sin to fickle nobles. The Shadow Carja would be a thorn in the Fourteenth Sun-King’s side for the next several years.

When Avad’s forces were finished that afternoon clearing out the palace and half-heartedly chasing a few Shadow Carja out into the desert, guards came back to the encampment where the prisoner was still chained to in order to escort him to this very cell.  He went along without fuss or fight.  He was ready for it to be over with.  Even if “it” could well mean a hanging or beheading, depending on how his trial went.  Avad didn’t seem the torturing sort, but a sentence of death would not be wrong for how many lives the prisoner had taken, even under orders.  It took several weeks to have the hearing, as of course a change in a long-time regime had more urgent matters to attend to for the moment.

Once they were ready to proceed with Carja justice, he was marched in chains hand and foot with a few other captured or late defectors into the main great hall in the palace of Meridian. He was amused that most of the prisoners had no manacles or even simple rope binding them or preventing violence.  They just followed along with the armed guards, while he remained shackled. They had individual times for questioning from the tribunal, headed by Blameless Marad.  How precisely Marad had remained blameless as his moniker suggested during the Mad Sun-King’s reign was unclear.  But he sat next to the newly crowned Avad at the middle of a long table with the rest of the tribunal, occasionally whispering in his ear or passing him a note on a piece of parchment. 

He looked out into the gallery of faces where nobility and commoners alike had come to view the spectacle and saw his parents seated near the back watching the proceedings.  He had not seen them in three years, but it seemed they were aged a decade from when he first went off to military service.  Between the murder of their friends in the Hunting Lodge in the Sun-Ring to maintaining appearances of loyalty to preserve their lives to today’s events where their only son’s life might be forfeit was very difficult for them to bear.  His mother gave him as warm a smile as she could likely muster given the circumstances.  Ligan had an inscrutable look on his face, as if he was trying to view keep a stiff upper lip for appearances, but his eyes were undeniably sad as he looked at his son as if to wonder what had gone so wrong. Still, they were there and he appreciated this.

Marad began the proceedings by asking the group of prisoners if anyone wished to forgo a formal investigation and simply confess any and all crimes right there.  No one moved for several moments. Marad went back to looking down at his parchment and scratching a few words with a turkey feather ink quill.

Suddenly, the prisoner stepped forward with a raised hand, iron chains scraping on the flagstone floor.

“I will.  No sense in dragging this out. My deeds and misdeeds are well known enough throughout the Sundom and beyond.”

“Ah, very good,” nodded Marad and a few others at the long table.  “Please state your name for this hearing.”

The prisoner gave his name.

“Very good.  And your alias?”

“The Glinting Shadow,” stated the prisoner flatly.

“Very well. Kindly give us in as much detail as you would like to provide about your service in the Carja military under the former Sun-King as well as how you came to be captured.”

“Thank you.  I will do so.  I will state from the beginning that I was not…well…captured exactly.  I was in the process of defecting to now Sun-King Avad when I was knocked out by the leader of the Oseram Vanguardsmen.”

“Fine, this can be corroborated with His Luminance?” Marad asked with a lifted eyebrow, looking at the new king seated next to him, who nodded solemnly.  “Duly noted.  Continue.”

The prisoner launched into his story, starting with his meeting with General Helis on his seventeenth birthday.  He described his service in the Forbidden West as a survivor of two major battles and his promotion as an assassin with the Kestrels.  He went on to explain how his last assignment was to assassinate Avad as the greatest threat to Jiran and how he refused to kill him.  The tribunal members nodded seriously and Marad dismissed the prisoner while the tribunal and the king deliberated his fate. 

For sentencing, he was brought back out and Avad personally thanked him in front of the tribunal for his testimony.  But as expected, they could not just release him due to the sheer number of assassinations and murders he committed on behalf of Jiran. He avoided execution because of his late defection which the tribunal deemed genuine (there was a small gasp of relief at this from his mother), but he was formally stripped of any titles of nobility and inheritance and sentenced indefinitely to imprisonment at Sunstone Rock.

His parents gave him another look of support from across the great hall, despite the fact they effectively lost their son and heir probably forever.  But to him what was important was they were alive.  They were safe.  His actions hopefully helped end the reign of terror sooner.  His own life meant little to him.  It was worth it. He breathed a deep sigh and he was walked back to his cell under guard until he could be transported west for his sentence.  He was not exactly sure what to expect at the prison, but in a bittersweet way as he threw a last look at his parents, he knew for better or for worse, that this chapter of his life had closed.

The prison convoy to Sunstone Rock left at first light.  Once they arrived, they all were assigned a cell.

“Our warden will give you an orientation of sorts to what we are going to be doing at Sunstone Rock, particularly now that the new Sun-King has ordered some changes,” said a guard as he was lead to the warden's office.

The prisoner murmured his understanding and entered into the warden’s office. The person sitting at the desk cocked their head when he walked in and gestured to a chair.  The prisoner frowned, as if the warden was vaguely familiar to him.

“We can take off the shackles.  You won’t need them here,” said the warden.

They were removed by the guard, who then stepped out of the room and closed the door. The prisoner rubbed his wrists, as they had been on for about a month at this point and the metal had nearly worn sores on his skin.  Then he proceeded to sitting down.

“My name is Janeva.  You likely don’t remember me, but I remember you,” the warden explained, their eyes peering into his intently. “I was a Carja soldier under Jiran like you, but months ago, I became part of Avad’s honor guard that went with him to the Claim once his father had murdered his brother with machines in the Sun-Ring. The night before the Liberation, I was in the camp outside Meridian and I had heard the commotion inside his tent.  It seems that Erend Vanguardsman and his sister Ersa had knocked you unconscious and were trying to decide what to do with you.  I was near my tent, so I fetched some rope to bind your hands.”

“It was a good set of knots, warden,” allowed the prisoner dryly.

“Thank you.  I was shocked we had caught such a high-level Kestrel as yourself.  Your story intrigued me though.  I heard you were actually in the process of surrendering to the prince when you were captured?”

“Correct.  It is perhaps difficult to explain, but by then, I was done being an instrument of death for someone so unhinged.  He had threatened my parents.  It was time for it to be over,” the prisoner explained.

“I understand.  Well, our new Sun-King is only a few weeks into his reign, but dare I say things are looking up,” Janeva stated while rifling through the small stack of parchment that contained his file. “I am new at this post myself, but while your sentence is technically indefinite, Avad seems far more favorable to mercy and reform than his father. It will still be difficult.  This is still a prison and I will run it with no tolerance for misbehavior.  Any ideas you may get about escaping or otherwise causing trouble will be punished severely if you elect to violate these terms.  But who knows? With good behavior and forward progress on your rehabilitation, you may be out before you know it.”

And so it went for the prisoner for two more years.  Janeva was right:  life at Sunstone Rock was difficult.  Not that the guards or the warden were especially cruel or the conditions horribly bad (except for the nearly never-ending oppressive heat).  But he felt so…stagnant.  He was at the prime of his life and was stuck mostly in a stone room with nothing but his thoughts.

The only thing that improved slightly was about a week or so after he arrived, a welcome friend did as well.  The soldier he knew as Ryas from his time in the Forbidden West was transported to Sunstone Rock to likewise serve his time.  The two conversed in the yard and both had cells on the same block, so they could swap stories and news.  He updated Ryas on his brother’s status as far as he knew.  Ryas vowed he’d make up for those mistakes as well.  Ryas also mentioned that their previous general Fashav who was thought to be lost out at Cinnabar Sands was actually alive and doing well these last few years in Tenakth territory.  The prisoner was especially impressed to hear he had become a Marshal, which was a high honor.

Even though he now had an actual friend to talk with, within just a few weeks of imprisonment there, he was getting quite cagey.  The warden took Avad’s perspective of rehabilitation very seriously, so a number of books on various subjects were rotated into the prison periodically from the Meridian libraries.  The prisoner devoured them voraciously, just as he had when he was a teenager.  But he needed physical activity beyond doing solitary strength training exercises in his cell.

After several months of taking the new position, Janeva scheduled the first meeting with a number of the more long-term inmates hoping to get some constructive input on changes they’d like to see.  The prisoner expressed his desire to do more physical activities, such as some exercise drills and maybe some “light sparring.”

The warden’s eyebrows practically disappeared into their hairline. 

“Are you insane?” Janeva asked incredulously. “Well…don’t answer that.  Yes, you are.  But there’s just no way.  We can’t have prisoners fighting each other. It would be madness.”

“Who said anything about the other prisoners?  How about I fight…you?” he asked, a rising mania flashing in his silvery blue eyes.

Janeva felt a chill under his intense but excited stare.  This could go very badly indeed. Or perhaps it would be just what they all needed…

“Oh, come on, warden.  You were in the Sun-King’s honor guard!  I’m sure you can handle yourself.  You can’t tell me you don’t long for the thrill of the fight over being an overworked administrator of Carja justice,” continued the prisoner, his feral grin widening.

Dammit.  He had a point. Janeva sighed.

“Fine.  Tomorrow.  Just you and me.  Blunt wood training swords only!”

They met in the open yard first thing in the relative cool of the morning with a few guards armed with actual swords and halberds. Janeva wanted to trust the prisoner, but trust needed to be earned first. He was allowed to wear nothing but a plain tunic and pants and was searched for hidden weapons before he was handed a wooden training sword.  He grinned like a little boy given his first toy practice sword and gave it a few flourishes and moulinets to warm up. He sighed with pleasure as he readied himself to begin.

They started slowly with some basic partner drills as they were both a bit rusty from nearly half a year off from hard practice, but the clack clack clack of the wood swords striking each other could soon be heard echoing off the stone walls.  The other prisoners watched from their windows as the smaller warden did their best to keep up with the notorious assassin.

“Next time, let’s do some archery!” the prisoner told his likewise exhausted opponent with a mischievous laugh. 

By the time they finally agreed to break, he was panting and red faced in the heat and had soaked the tunic with sweat. He stripped off the shirt and practically dunked his whole head in the nearest water barrel.  He shook his head and torso off like a dog and was grinning in thanks at Janeva for this moment. The water dripped off his lean, muscled torso that was covered lightly with chest hair.  The hair on his head had not been cut in months, so it hang messily and nearly in his eyes, framing his angular face with a dark beard.

By the Sun, he looks divine, Janeva thought, struggling not to stare.  Janeva may have given up the female sex in order to become a Carja soldier, but still held great appreciation and attraction for men.

Over the next few months, Sunstone Rock slowly started to implement a training regimen for the prisoners.  As the Rock housed inmates from beggar thieves and outlander bandits to Carja nobles from Jiran’s military, it was not only a way to keep them busy with physical exercise, but it also forced the inmates to mingle more than they would have otherwise.  The prisoner found himself teaching even the lowliest peasant how to use a sword and shield. He enjoyed this daily routine of training and teaching more than he would have thought.

Approximately two years after his imprisonment, he was summoned to the warden’s office.  To his surprise, Blameless Marad was sitting in a chair next to Janeva.

“Thank you for coming.  His Luminance the Sun-King feels it is time to test whether some of our prisoners are ready for release.  Because of your initial surrender and desire to fast track your hearing as well as good behavior here, we feel it is time to give you a chance,” said Janeva.

“We have a specific mission for you which if you agree to, you’ll be released to complete,” continued Marad.  He could see the prisoner’s mouth tighten and eyebrows furrow. “Yes, this mission is for the Sun-King. But it is more specifically for the good of all.”

The prisoner crossed his arms in front of him and furrowed eyebrows lifted in question.

“Yes, I know you have previously stated you want to be your own man now and not beholden to any king. That is fine.  This mission is also secret.  Just think of it as a way to fast track your freedom. It is specifically suited to a man of your talents. The Sundom and beyond has always been plagued by bandits.  That’s nothing new.  But what is different is they are growing in number. Our king wants to be able to send emissaries and trading partners to the other tribes, but that can’t happen if they are being attacked on the roads by brigands. Rumors are that they are also taking hostages, but they just as often kill whoever they meet. Your job will be to hunt down these camps located throughout the Sundom as well as beyond.”

“Hunt down?  You mean…kill?” asked the prisoner, a light of interest coming into his eyes for the first time.

“Yes, do with them what you will.  We don’t officially care. But I would take care to do so stealthily,” said Marad.  “The Sundom will provide any supplies or shards you need to do this task, plus you are of course welcome to any salvage you take.  We know it will likely require many months.  We’ve taken the liberty of outfitting you in some familiar Carja armor.  And before you ask, no.  Sorry to say you may not have the Stalker armor back,” Marad said lightly.  “That item has been…well, disassembled for research into its tech.”

“As expected,” said the prisoner slightly saddened but not surprised.

“Good.  Do you agree to these terms? If so, you can leave today,” said Marad.

“Yes. I’ll do it.”

“Excellent, sign this parchment stating you agree to the terms of employment and that you understand if you are wounded, injured, captured, killed, or are otherwise harmed by this mission, the Sundom is not liable to help you. Officially, we have no knowledge of your activities,” Marad said as he passed over a quill and parchment across the table. The prisoner signed a scrawl at the bottom.

“Here’s a few personal effects of yours,” said Janeva, standing up to open a trunk and handing him the clothes he was captured in as well as the knife he offered Avad and the Voice of Our Teeth.  The prisoner gasped upon receiving the bow, the gift from his father who he would likely never be allowed to see again. 

“But how?  I would have thought these would have been lost forever?” he said, clearly stunned to be reunited with his knife and bow.

“Remember how I told you when you first came here that I helped restrain and bind you when you were unconscious and captured in the tent?” Janeva asked.  “Well, we found these with you and something told me to hold onto them for you. Use the blade as the sign of your service to the king as you offered it to him before.  He’s not a brutal master like his father. Let the bow carry out your mission to eliminate the bandit threat to not just the Sundom, but to all tribes.”

“I will. Thank you,” he said as he looked up from the prized weapons and nodded solemnly. 

“These bandit camps will not be easy,” said Marad. “They will be heavily armed in some cases. Some will be well trained. We’ll provide you with a rough map of where these camps are likely to be.  Some are well outside Carja territory, so be extra cautious in those cases.  The crown takes no responsibility if you are caught or killed.  But to assist you, we are also giving you your choice of partner.  You may pick someone here at Sunstone Rock who is due for release if you like. Or we can pair you with someone suitable with complementary…talents to your own.”

“How about Ryas? Is he due out soon?” asked the prisoner hopefully. His hunting and climbing skills would come in handy.

“Itamen’s Shadow?  Interesting choice,” mused Marad.  “No, he is not.  As he was captured after you were, his sentence is likely to be a bit longer.  In addition, we have a different mission in mind for him fairly soon.”

“Alright.  Pick someone who is a passable tracker.  That will be a good start,” said the prisoner.

“Very well. You’re a free man now.  We’ll send your partner shortly out the gate if you wish to meet him there,” Janeva added.

He inclined his head to Janeva and Marad in thanks and walked out past the guards. He slipped off his prison garb unceremoniously and let it fall to the red dirt as he donned the white Carja armor.  It was new to him, but he was pleased to see it was well fitted to his size.  Made up of white machine plates and leather and trimmed in red silk with dark purple trousers, he slipped into the clothing again as if he’d never left the Hunter’s Lodge five years ago. 

As he placed the headdress with its fiery red feathers on his head, he sighed deeply into the hot air of the western Sundom.  A new start was beginning.  As he consulted the map he was given, a commoner he had seen around the prison approached him also wearing new clothing.  The other man waved at the now free man and introduced himself as his new partner.

He nodded in greeting and said, “Call me Nil.”

Chapter Text

The Bandit Hunter

Wanting to savor his freedom a bit after two years in captivity before getting down to business, Nil decided to journey east slowly and steadily.  As he was warned not to be recognized, he stopped only on the outskirts of Meridian to buy traveling supplies with a fat purse of the crown’s shards, plus a haircut and a shave from a local barber.  Mostly clean shaven in the Carja military, he opted for a neatly trimmed goatee and short hair he could maintain in the field. 

As they made their way east, Nil considered why he decided to take a new name.  It was a bit of a spontaneous decision, but he found out in his reading he did during prison that the term meant “nothing” or “zero” to the Old Ones.  The word was short and sharp, pared down to the nothing he felt. No connections, no titles, no family. Nothing.  Just cutting to the heart of who he was now.  He was determined to live for himself for the first time in his adult life.  It was a new start.

He also wanted to get a feeling for his new partner, who was indeed decent at tracking, but not much else.  They did not end up spending much time together.  His partner would set up camp while Nil would go off to scout a bit along the trail and bring down a brace of rabbits, a turkey, or a small boar to butcher, cook, and eat. Thankfully game and wild vegetables were plentiful, so they did not have to rely on much purchased food.  Unfortunately deranged machines were more common than ever.  He had to save the tracker more than once from a pack of Scrappers or a Sawtooth.

As they got east of Meridian, they consulted the map with some theorized locations of bandits squatting in the wild, but more often than not, they were either long gone or never there at all.  A settlement or encampment may be burned or trashed in their wake, but sometimes there was no sign. This is where the tracker finally came in handy.  The first camp they took out was nothing more than a few tents around a campfire just north of Lone Light.  They watched the camp during the day and moved in for the kill as dusk was settling and the handful of bandits were milling near their fire. 

As Nil and the tracker were a bit out of practice, they mostly used their bows to take them out one by one from a distance.  Not nearly as many clean headshots as Nil would have liked. But when the bloodlust sang, he advanced on one dying man with his long knife and climbed on top of his belly to slit his throat. The splash of blood that hit him in the face made Nil moan through his teeth and his eyes roll back like the two were long lost lovers. He needed this after so very long. This is what he was meant to do.

The tracker didn’t talk much either.  Being aloof by nature with most people, this suited Nil just fine.  He needed to trust the man, but why get attached if he was going to end up with arrows in his gullet or a knife through the liver in the end?

Even after being on the road for months with him, all Nil knew about the man was he was from Meridian as well, but he was lowborn and had made his shards as a thief and cutpurse. He was arrested for these crimes. Towards the end of the Red Raids, the Carja war machine needed more manpower, so he was given the chance to join the army or be imprisoned.  Three meals a day and clothes on his back seemed a fair deal, so he enlisted. His specialty was tracking escaped prisoners and slaves, so this seemed to fit.  He just had an annoying habit of weeping if he ever actually used his bow. Nil thought it was a bit peculiar, but who was he to judge if he did his job?

Over the next few months, they eventually made their way through Daytower and down into Hunter’s Gathering, which was a newer encampment established since the end of the Red Raids.  Banuk, Oseram, Nora, and Carja hunters mingled fairly pleasantly enough, despite their recent shared history.  Even the odd Utaru and Tenakth outlanders were rumored to visit from time to time.  Nil and his partner stayed for an additional night to listen to stories, which were reminiscent of his time in the Hunter’s Lodge in Meridian. 

The next morning, his partner reported he found some promising tracks after rumors he heard around the campfire of bandits who had headed east to plunder the Savage Lands following the Nora Proving massacre.  Details on the culprits to this massacre were slim, but that mattered little to the pair.  While unfortunate for the Nora, that meant more bandit camps to dispatch and less activity guarding their territory.  While Nil was packing up their campsite in Hunter’s Gathering, the tracker left early without him in his excitement to follow the group, which seemed a good two dozen or more strong. 

Nil tried to catch up and had gotten just past Mother’s Crown when he discovered the fresh signs of a struggle on the roadside.  There were three bodies total, with his still barely warm partner being one.  Nil observed the scene with an experienced eye and concluded that the tracker had probably felled the other two men with his bow before getting killed himself by other bandits. Judging from his current location, the tracks, and the disturbed vegetation, they were likely from up the road at Devil’s Thirst. 

He knew he could take the camp out himself.  These particular bandits were not very skilled and he estimated there were probably about twenty to twenty-five of them. But it was certainly easier to do with a partner. 

Nil knelt over the body of his partner and sighed in irritation.  Good partners with both skill and enough sense to not get themselves killed with the slightest mistake were not easy to find.  This wasn’t the military or the Hunter’s Lodge where a certain level of competency could be assumed.  He had to take who and what he could get, which annoyed him as all ineptness did.  This could take weeks or more to find a replacement.  Perhaps he should head back to Hunter’s Gathering to recruit a new partner.

The soft clip clop of an approaching Strider rousted him from his thoughts.  Even Striders could be dangerous these days if they caught you unawares. He looked up at it and tried to control his shock when he saw what appeared to be a young woman astride the metal beast riding towards him at a light trot.  He had never even heard of such a thing. He was instantly intrigued and more than a little awed.

He nearly grabbed a blade from his belt in case she was a final bandit with more hard feelings for revenge than good sense, but then he noticed she was wearing Nora leathers and carried herself with self assuredness.  Not like the skulking bandits that avoided unfamiliar eyes except if they were in large groups.  Still, with the current unrest in the Savage Lands and him wearing the clothing of a Carja outlander, he had to be on his guard.  She seemed to be by herself, so he relaxed somewhat. 

She swung off the Strider smoothly a dozen paces away from him like it was the most natural thing in the world instead of a skill she just had learned days earlier. She landed lightly on her feet and approached confidently as he remained kneeling.  Here he was, clearly an outsider and an enemy force at worst with no leave to be on her tribe’s lands, and she did not even bother to draw the spear or bow on her back.  She doesn’t know the danger she could be in, he thought. Or…maybe she does and doesn’t care.  Interesting.

She probably was a newly qualified Nora brave like those he had encountered a few years earlier.  She looked as if he was maybe only three or four years her senior, but she seemed much younger as if she had not been exposed to the war like many of her fellow Nora.  The people who had seen tough times through the war were irrevocably aged, as he knew from experience. Perhaps she was from one of the more southern settlements or camps that the Carja had never successfully invaded during the Red Raids.

He appraised her silently and she watched him right back. She was not overly tall and had a lithe, athletic build under the Nora clothing.  Her hair was by far her most striking feature: red as blood but with sun-bleached highlights, all kept in place by braids and beads.  Carja women never had such naturally vivid red hair colors. He tried his best not to stare, but he nearly could not help it.

After years of practice, Nil knew how to turn on his naturally intimidating presence as he stood up to his own full and not inconsiderable height. Not even very many men seemed to sustain long eye contact with him.  But the fiery green eyes that looked him back in the face were calm and steady.

“There’s danger ahead, girl,” he said, letting his voice settle into a slightly terse growl to test her reaction.  Usually all but the toughest Tenakth would back down when spoken to by Nil.

“Danger for you, outlander.  This is Nora land,” said the young woman, unphased by his directness.

Oh, is that a challenge? Look at that ferocity. Even more interesting.

“Yes, yes, yes…trespass is forbidden upon the pain of death,” Nil said, then gestured to the body of his former partner on the ground. “Strange phrase, pain of death.  See? This one is in no pain at all.”

“Who was he?” she asked.

“A thief. A slaver. A killer.  The kind that gives honest killers a bad name,” said Nil, not quite honest but not quite lying about the identity of his former partner, who seemed less and less important to Nil by the passing moments.

“Varl told me there would be bandit ambushes on the road,” the huntress said thoughtfully to herself.

“Well, it’s not all good news.  They don’t always come to you.  Most dig out a camp.  And there they’ll sit like spoil on meat,” he replied in a slightly lighter tone.

“Unless someone…does something about it?” she said hopefully.

He smirked slightly. Ah, a noble thing, this one. Pure of heart still. Let’s see how long that lasts.

“I like you.  Follow the trail of smoke on the other side of the ruins.  I’ll be there,” he paused before indicating the dead man again. “This one and I just need a moment longer…to reflect on all we’ve been through.”

She gave Nil a slightly quizzical look but headed back to the Strider. She mounted the machine and signaled it back up to a quick trot, not looking back with her red hair flowed behind. Nil’s gaze on her never wavered as she disappeared into the distance.

By the Sun…she is…something.

What exactly, he couldn’t say.  He had barely noticed other women before.  They were more of a distraction than an attraction.  But Nil could tell the Nora girl had something fierce and feral right under the surface. He’d seen similar traits in relatively few women (mostly Tenakth), but it was there all the same.  All she would need is a little coaxing for it to come out.  This would certainly break up the monotony of the road and his mission if they could work together.  As the Carja did not allow women in the military, he’d never fought side by side with a woman before, so his curiosity was piqued.  The fact that she was undeniably attractive…well, that was just a bonus. 

Once she was gone, he hurriedly took what he could from the corpses, dusted his hands off, noted that rain was likely developing, and headed off to the grassy hill opposite the Devil’s Thirst bandit camp.  He waited for the Nora girl and was soon rewarded as she approached through the now drizzling rain, though he saw she had wisely left the Strider out of sight in a grove of trees.

“I’m glad you came,” he said in softer tones than he used earlier as she knelt next to him as they both looked across to the camp.

“You’re glad? Why?”

“Call it a shared interest. And call me Nil,” he said as he pointed in the direction of the camp. “Look there…those old rocks. A bandit clan squats under them. Disturb the rocks and they’ll come wriggling out, worms that they are.”

“Bandits…why have they come here?” she asked.

“The Nora are in trouble.  Rumors spread like blood.  With no braves to guard the border, killers hungry for sport slip right through,” he explained.  Killers like me.  “My partner and I shadowed these scum for days.  Good tracker, but he went on ahead without me.  We talked about this kind of behavior.  Still…I understand.  Leave it too long, your fingers itch for the bowstring.”

She wasn’t sure if she did know exactly what he was talking about as the first human targets she had ever shot were the attackers at the Proving just a few days earlier. That was out of necessity, of course, but she let him continue.

“Say…how about you and I work together? Kill them all?” asked Nil trying to sound casual, but an eager edge in his voice betrayed that he had obviously thought this proposition through in advance. The reaction on her face revealed he had moved just a little too quickly. 

“I don’t know you,” she scoffed. “And I have no reason to trust you.”

Smarter than she knows.

“Trust is a rare egg to find,” he allowed, trying for another angle before she got completely spooked.  “I’m just a traveler with a bow and a concern about the state of these lands.  And a missing partner.”

“I don’t think you’re just anything at all.”

And perceptive as she is beautiful.   

“Hmmm…well, let me put it another way.  Are you a bandit?” he asked.

“Of course not!” she huffed, looking indignant in the rain.

“Then you have nothing to fear from me,” promised Nil earnestly.

Yet, he thought darkly. If only she knew her instincts were right.  But she seemed mollified for the moment. 

“Alright,” she sighed as if she had just convinced herself.  “Someone has to stop them from hurting others.”

“And we will!” Nil said brightly, sensing her acquiesce.  “We’ll stop them from doing anything…save screaming for a while.”

She made a non-committal noise at his last quip and unshouldered her bow from its sling off her back and checked her supply of arrows.

“Go ahead and take the lead. I look forward to see what you’re capable of,” he said with anticipation.  He pointed out some of the features of the camp that he had noted while scouting. This included a holding pen for captives, which he was sure would be especially enticing to a heroic young Nora brave such as herself.

She looked for a stand of grasses as some cover for the both of them and touched a small object on her right temple.  He only noticed it now as it lit up. She could clearly see something he could not as she used her pointer finger in midair. A trinket from the Old Ones perhaps?  He was not sure but now was not the time for questions.

She seemed to settle on a target (a lone guard in a tower), nocked an arrow, and let it fly.  Her hands shook for the first few targets and not all the shots were clean.  Apparently, Grazer dummies or even machines were no substitute for moving, dodging humans.  But she followed them up quickly and ducked back undercover as the vermin raced about like angry ants with their nest kicked over.  He followed her with both of them crouching across the bridge as they moved closer.  He noted her aim and steadiness were improving dramatically as she went with each successive shot. 

Nil wondered if it was her first time truly pursuing human quarry and had an oddly proud sensation of watching her work.  He covered her when needed, but she was so good at stealth, it rarely was.  Her silent strike was especially intoxicating to watch:  a full-sized man being taken down by a young woman still technically a teenager was like poetry and song.  And he knew it would only improve in time with practice.  Only when they both wanted the challenge of facing the last few head on did he really ever come to her aid and join in, he with his sword and she with her spear. 

He let her have the honor of freeing the Nora captives as he stalked around the bodies slitting throats and waited for her across the bridge, dutifully cleaning his blade of blood. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” reveled Nil as she approached. “Hold it inside you one last breath, then let it out.”

“Ugh…” she said, trying to control an eye roll. “I didn’t find your partner.”

“They killed him,” he replied a little too quickly.  “I hardly feel surprised. He was already getting cocky when we carved through the last bandit camp. I thought he and I were agreed: only enjoy the killing as much as the challenge. No great loss.  Nothing in the wilds I can’t handle.  Just me and the Voice of Our Teeth here.”

“Your bow has a name?” she asked.

“Yours doesn’t?” he answered as his eyebrow quirked satirically.

“You’re not just a traveler.  The way that armor was fitted for you. And the way you hold your bow…” she continued with a note of appreciation in her voice.

Was that a compliment?  Good, good…

“I said I was a concerned traveler.  I was a soldier…but I was a soldier longer than there was a war, if you follow…”

She was not sure if she did exactly, but she allowed Nil to continue.

“Where the arrowhead passes between armor and skin, that’s the place I belong.  So I make opportunities to find it.  It’s like coming home,” he said with satisfaction.

“Have you ever thought about hunting machines?” she asked.

He nearly laughed at this, “Meh…they don’t get that look in their eye.”

“Did bandits wrong you somehow?”

“They wrong us all.  They live filthy lives so they have to die that way too,” said Nil.

“So…you hunt them down to help others,” she said this as less of a question to him and more of a statement to convince herself of what she hoped were more honorable intentions.

”No, no,” he corrected as it was the most obvious thing in the world. “For sport. I can’t wait for wars anymore.  Life is too short and the thrill of death too sharp. If you kill a tribesman, there’ll be retribution. Hunt a boar, they’ll complain if you waste the meat.  But bandits?  They’re vicious.  They always put up a fight.  And no one complains if you kill them!”

She sighed. She doubted he would see her perspective, but she tried once more.

“I guess you’re doing the right thing…for the wrong reason,” she said.

“I’m doing what I love. And what could be wrong with that?” he retorted with just an edge of sharpness, daring her to push him further.  She refused to go there.

“We’re done here,” she said with a hint of resignation. She found him intriguing, but dangerous.  It was time to move on.

There goes the armor they always put up…she means to leave. They always do...

“Here? I’m afraid so.  But we live in a world of ruins.  Bandits are drawn to them like an infection to a wound. You wouldn’t let that infection set in, would you?  I’m sure we’ll meet again…” he said with a hopeful promise in his voice.

“Maybe…if it can’t be helped,” she said with some irritation.

“If we pass each other by, we’ll know it by our work,” Nil replied with what he hoped was a smoother tone and a fetching smile at her. She merely huffed lightly, walked away, whistled, and vaulted smoothly onto the back of her Strider that bounded up at her call. As before, she never spared him a backwards glance as she cantered away.

He didn’t even know how long he sat on the grassy hill across from the bandit camp they had just defeated.  But for the first time in his just over two decades of life, Nil was enraptured by a woman.  Would she be his salvation? Or his destruction? He wasn’t sure. But he would do anything to find out.

Chapter Text

When Nil left the first bandit camp, he was a bit dejected.  The Nora woman seemed irritated and put off by him, as most people (women or men) were.  He was intense and direct even when he was nowhere near a battlefield or roadside skirmish. Even on a good day when he wasn’t still feeling the effects of headaches and agitation from the episodes that plagued him periodically since his first battle at Cinnabar Sands, his mercurial nature and fascination with the thrill of death generally left the average person trying to get down the road from him as quickly as possible. 

But as he reflected, he felt a bit better when he realized he had spoken more with her in just one afternoon than he had with about anyone else in many months.  Perhaps even since his release from Sunstone Rock. Instead of simply being revolted, she had tried some light verbal sparring with him.  He liked that immensely.  She would not convince him that he was wrong, but it was refreshing to have a tête-à-tête with someone who could not only be a physical force but an intellectual equal.

She clearly saw Nil take on a few bandits of his own towards the end of their time together at Devil’s Thirst.  While he had not had the bloodlust truly take over to the point his full aggression and ferocity were on display that day, she did not directly recoil from his presence just for doing his job like many others.  Which was surprising given her relative lack of experience in hunting humans.  He was slightly encouraged by that.  If he saw her again, he vowed he would show a little more of his true nature and see if that natural curiosity and aptitude she possessed in ample amounts would override her tidy little worldview about right and wrong. 

If he saw her again, that is.  Clearly bandit camps were not the only thing on her agenda as she moved from village to village and outpost to outpost.  He understood duty better than most and at first did not begrudge her the time she needed to fulfill these unnamed tasks.  But with no partner and no permanent goals living out in the wilds other than taking care of bandits, he again grew a bit frustrated as he hoped he would just so happen to run into her. 

He was in Hunter’s Gathering picking up supplies when he heard an Oseram woman discussing with her husband that Two Teeth, a nearby bandit camp, had just been cleared by a young Nora woman with something called a Seeker's mark. It was her, there was no doubt in his mind.  He raced there to see if he could get there in time, but he was told by a merchant that she was already gone as the new settlers stacked up the bodies of her prey just hours after she swept through. Such a waste. 

The weeks went by and he got restless.  She went from being an attraction to an obsession.  Despite his best efforts, she filled his thoughts as he traveled.  Red grasses reminded him of her hair.  The shiny scales of a trout he bowfished from a stream would make him think of the shine of her green eyes. Even wandering by a herd of Striders would get his mind daydreaming about riding astride a machine with her.

He would grow hard imagining sharing one of these metal beasts: her riding in front, her muscular form positioned just so on the sturdy metal frame with his tall, lean body behind her learning how to master such a thing. He imagined she would show him how to make the Strider gallop, and he would be surely made to clutch her closely as no one else had ever allowed him to as they rode together wild and free.  He could not help but fantasize about them dismounting and making love on the grass without a care in the world and beholden to no one.  He mused that once upon a time, he had never really thought much of specific people in these fantasies, rare as they were in his previous life with a previous name. 

Nil hardly ever killed predators as he felt he had an unspoken kinship with them, but he even shot a few red foxes and field tanned the hides to trade with the traveling stitcher at Hunter’s Gathering.  This stitcher was familiar with both Nora and Banuk cold weather clothing and in return for some shards, machine parts, and a few more pelts, fashioned a boarskin cloak with fox fur trim to be useful in the near freezing evenings in the Savage Lands.  He would wear the cloak on the chillier nights, absentmindedly stroking the soft, warm fur as he dozed and imagining he was touching her brilliant red hair as if she was curled near him by the campfire.

He knew these thoughts were silly.  He was supposed to be a grown man, not a lovestruck teenager mooning over a girl at school.  Nil had seen some of the other men in the military get distracted by love or lust.  The penalty for sneaking off to a brothel or camp follower for a deployed Carja soldier was severe. Depending on rank and the severity of the indiscretion, a one-way visit to the Sun-Ring with the object of his affections was not off the table under Jiran’s rule.  Yet fellow soldiers sometimes indulged in the flesh to their peril. 

Nil agreed with practically nothing General Helis promoted, but he didn’t exactly disagree that romantic entanglements were an interruption to duty.  Not that anyone was interested in the first place, so it became a self-fulfilling prophecy.  He told himself he didn’t need it, so he never sought it out.  And there was the fact that in the back of his mind, he himself could be a bastard and he had no intention of making more of them. 

He had a mission and the sooner the mission was done, his debt to society would be paid and he could be a truly free man. He was not sure what being truly free looked like exactly, but that was his goal. This girl who intruded on his thoughts and focus already started to irk him somewhat as days turned into weeks without sighting her. And yet, instead of simply wiping out each camp and group of ragtag robbers on his own as he moved east to west, he waited for her.  Perhaps he would say he was scouting the camps and making sure they were taken at just the right time with the right preparation.  Like the comings and goings of the men and women as their scouts kept lookouts and their patrols brought back loot from ambushing passerbys on the main road.  But this was nonsense.  He was waiting for her.

And finally, he was rewarded.  Good things come to those who lie in wait.  Between Carja and Nora territory west of Daytower lie the Gatelands mesas.  A sizeable troop of bandits had set up a camp there.  It was delicious bait for her:  more bandits than Two Teeth and yet easier to navigate due to not being built into the side of a mountain. Nil figured there was no way she could resist and he was correct.  He saw her approach his campfire from the east and his heart soared, all previous simultaneous irritation at both her absence and presence now forgotten for the moment.  He stepped out by his campfire just north of the camp as she spotted him.

"I saw some of the places you'd been.  The new settlers have no appreciation for craft.  They'd already piled your work in a ditch," he said in an attempt to be smooth and nonchalant, even though his adrenaline surged in anticipation of this hunt and the excitement of simply seeing her.  She sighed, but said nothing.  "But I knew the signs to look for. Those scrabbles in the dirt, those surprised splashes. I did tell you we'd meet again!"

"Nil...still hunting bandits?" she asked, well aware of the apparent answer.

"Oh yes..." he could not quite keep the purr out of his voice. She could not have said why, but his hard stare and eagerness in his voice sent a surprising thrill down her center. "I've been sharpening my blade, anticipating the scent of the fight.  Don't get me wrong, these scum are odorous. A little panic and desperation really sets it off.  Like an incense."

"So...what's your knife called?" she asked, trying to diffuse to him a bit before they got to work.

"Why would someone name a knife?" he retorted.

"So much for small talk..." she said almost under her breath.

"Are you ready?" said Nil, practically panting with impatience to get going.

"I didn't need your aid before and I still don't," she said with exasperation.  

Sensing he had pushed a little too far and not wanting to be dismissed, he tried a different tactic.  He guessed she likely had a competitive streak, as did he.

"Now that I've seen what you can do, you don't get another camp for free," he said.  "Think of this as a friendly competition..."

"Friendly?" she huffed with a slight eye roll, but she didn't outright tell him to get lost.  She unshouldered her bow, nocked an arrow, and started off without another word.  He smiled and followed a few paces behind her.  

She was worth every second of his built up frustration as she prowled through moving the camp from the exterior to the interior.  She was showing a finesse over what the first camp was like. A speed and efficiency at both the bow as well as stealthy takedowns. She was almost too efficient for his taste.  Too many headshots and not enough screams and panic. Clearly she had practiced out in the wilds these lasts weeks and months and it showed.  At one point, she even shared a smile with him when she took out the lead bandit with a silent takedown.  He wished he could do this forever in the moment with her.  An anticipatory ache started to settle as once they had satisfactorily collected the loot from the bodies of the bandits and she made sure the two captives were well on their way.  She looked like she was about to pack up and head out into the soon to be dark night.

“Nora, this may be your first time in Carja territory, but that would be…ill advised.  This was a large camp we just brought down.  So that means the likelihood there are other stragglers nearby are high.  Revenge is a sharp motivator.”

She shrugged. Nothing she hadn’t dealt with before.

“Well, how about a very large, very dangerous machine prowling about in that valley? Look, you can see its glow just down that way,” indicated Nil, pointing to a large open field to the west with a mesa rising just to the north.  Sure enough, the blue glow of its eyes and huge chassis lit up the dry grass softly as it slowly prowled its chosen path several hundred paces away.

She cocked her head in interest and got up and squinted out into the dark past the light of the campfire. 

“Is that…is that what I think it is?” she asked in awe after a few moments as she gaped at its sheer size.  Much, much larger than any machine she had seen previously, she was filled with equal parts thrill and dread.  The rumors of their presence got louder the further west one traveled. But here one was. A true hunter killer: the Thunderjaw. It was close enough she could just barely feel the ground vibrate with each never-ending step.

“I wouldn’t feel right letting you go on to your next unspoken destination without pointing it out,” Nil said magnanimously.

“Can we go have a closer look?” she asked him with almost child-like excitement.

A feared killer of both men and machines and she still wants to go even bigger in scale. A bit mad. I love it. 

He chuckled and assented. “After you, huntress.”

She flashed a grin at him that made his stomach swoop and walked purposefully into the high grass.  She tapped the relic on the side of her temple but apparently it was not close enough and she kept going forward.  She edged closer with him trailing behind her. 

“Hey, wait!” he finally whispered tersely recognizing danger and grabbed her shoulder.  He let his hand linger there just half a second longer than it took him to finish speaking. “Look!”

She stopped abruptly at his touch and crouched lower in the grass but continued to gaze at the machine.  The large metal beast had frozen in place for a moment as if sensing the presence of two new humans near its domain.  A blue light emanating from its radar scanner pulsed as it looked for its prey.

They were just outside its range, but close enough for the huntress to re-scan the machine to log its entry into the Focus catalogue.  Nil saw her eyes dart back and forth as it apparently gave her new information about its body and construction.  She murmured quietly to herself as she flipped through invisible menus about its statistics and weaknesses. 

“They are especially dangerous if you get caught out in the open in the dark. From what I hear, they are very tenacious once they try to go after you.  The Hunter’s Lodge generally won’t even go after a Thunderjaw without sending a whole team. Even I’m not crazy enough to try to hunt one on my own,” Nil mused quietly with a slightly self-deprecating tone.  “I suggest waiting at least ‘til daybreak to give it a wide berth and continue west if that’s your next step.”

A sensible option, she nodded.  She doubted such a specimen would meander off its set course too far, but even if they stood well out of its way, other smaller but not less deadly machines could be in the close vicinity. And stray bandit patrols were always a possibility.  They stayed kneeling in the grass side by side for several minutes watching the machine pace an endless track until it was enough to satisfy her curiosity. Two little predators watching the big one as the stars came out, thought Nil happily for the first time in months.

They glided backwards towards the now lifeless bandit camp.  They had almost made it back when she stepped on a loose rock and fell hard on her side.  Her ankle buckled and rolled.  She ground out a stifled cry.

“Are you alright?” Nil asked with concern as he walked over to her.

“Fine.  Mostly.  Just twisted it,” she grunted as she tried to stand.  “Another good reason to not prowl around at night on unfamiliar terrain.”

“Indeed.  I know something about that,” he replied as he offered down a supportive hand, which she took. He hauled her up to her feet, bringing her closer to him than he intended, so he backed off half a step.  She let go of his hand and tried to take a step on the injured side and realized she could not as she hissed in pain and frustration.  She had always been taught by Rost to walk it off when it came to injuries, but this clearly was not going to work.

“Well, it may not be broken, but it won’t get better with you trying to walk on it for now.  Here, lean your arm over my shoulder, I’ll help you back.”

She did so despite their height difference, and she hobbled back with him to the campfire at the center of the camp.  She sank back to the desert floor and pulled off her boot and lifted up her leggings.  The ankle was already nearly twice as big as the other side and it throbbed painfully.

“Can you move it? Try pointing and flexing it,” said Nil as he sat down beside her cross-legged.  She could flex it with some discomfort but moving it side to side made her cry out in pain.

“May I?” asked Nil with proffered hands.  Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly but she nodded.  He gently placed his hands on her foot, tentatively placing small amounts of pressure over the bones.  Nil hummed as he scrutinized her movements and reaction.

“Hmmm…probably not broken, just a sprain for now,” he said. “But they can still take a while to get better.  And you really don’t want to re-sprain it.  Will take at least double the time to heal if that happens.” 

He found a spare tunic and fashioned a supportive bandage out of the cloth.  She watched him curiously as he worked with an obviously practiced hand.

“You seem like you’d make a good healer.  But you mentioned the Hunter's Lodge and you dress like a hunter.  So you used to be a soldier? You fought for the Carja?” she asked.

He smiled at this. A healer?  Interesting.  What would it be like to make people better as opposed to…well, the opposite?

“For them, against them.  An empire always finds its wars. You can’t be picky. The new king Avad saw things differently.  Called an investigation into ‘war crimes.’ Aren’t all wars crimes to someone?” he scoffed mildly.  “Still, I raised my hand and volunteered.”

“You volunteered to investigate?” she asked in confusion.

“No, I volunteered my confession.  No sense wasting time with an investigation. I was sent to Sunstone Rock for two years.  The trade was fair.”

“They sent you to a rock for two years?  Is this some kind of…Carja ritual?” she replied.

He almost wanted to laugh. Her provincial ideals were so endearing.  Banishment might do for a small tribe of Nora, but not for the Sundom.

“No, no.  Sunstone Rock is a prison.  South of Meridian, south of the Raingathers.  Our new Sun-King is a believer in rehabilitation.  As am I.  In the heat of a stone cell…in the dark…I learned to focus on what was truly important to me,” said Nil.

She didn’t question what was truly important to him and went silent.  She wasn’t quite sure she was ready to hear it.

“At any rate, we’ll camp here tonight.  The nights get a bit cold out here. I have some trout I smoked from this morning still in my pack.  I’ll warm it up for us and make a hot soup.  But I need to go get some fresh water from the river nearby where the Tallneck paces.  Stay here and rest, I won’t be long.”

She nodded as he busied himself with grabbing a few water skins and his cooking pot.  He strode off into the darkness. He found the river due east and crouched on the riverbank to refill her skin and his own and submerged the pot to collect water for the soup.  His eyes remained alert for Snapmaws, which were plentiful in this stretch of the river.  The Tallneck paced along placidly, its mechanisms whirring as it splashed near him.

He was nearly back to the camp when he heard two voices right at the edge of the east entrance. Nil immediately set the cooking pot and water skins down and listened hard.  Townspeople moving back in after the camp was cleared perhaps?

“That must be her down at the campfire. No one else is here.  Well, alive anyways,” said the first man in disgust as he sniffed the air.

“You’re right.  Already smells like corpses sitting here downwind.  There must have been at least two dozen of us. Are you sure one girl took down that many?” said the second dismissively, hardly believing it himself.

Nil froze.  Bandits. Bandits who were talking about her. His pulse quickened, but he stayed absolutely still.

“Yeah, it doesn’t look she’s moving though. Just laying there flat on her back by the fire.  Maybe asleep? Maybe dead,” said the first.

“Well, she’ll wish she was when we catch her.  Let’s take her alive.  Flat on her back or otherwise, I haven’t had a woman in weeks.”

The second made a lecherous sound in agreement and the two men grabbed their own weapons and began to creep forward.  Nil could feel the rage fill him.  He had felt this dozens and dozens of times and it always helped when he was ready to kill on a mission or if he was in a difficult spot during a battle.  But never had he felt it in a protective way.  These bandits weren’t just some random assassination assignment. They were there to hurt the huntress and he could not allow that. Particularly when she was not able to defend herself lying injured at the campfire.

The Voice of Our Teeth had been left behind at the camp. But this was no job for a nice, clean, painless headshot from a bow unseen in the dark.  He still had his long knife at his belt, which was a much more personal method of killing.  All the better.  They would see what he is capable of.  And so would she. He drew the knife and stalked just close enough to them so they could reach the edge of the firelight.  He wanted them to know Death when it arrived to take them for their sins.

The Nora was dozing after the long day but through some noise she perceived through instinct, she shook herself awake. She blinked, pulled herself gingerly up into a sit, and looked around, wondering when Nil may be back from the river.  Instead of the now familiar Carja manhunter, she saw two strange men were no more than twenty steps from her spot leering malevolently, their axes out and ready. She yelped in surprise when she saw their unmistakable expressions, rolled up on her hands and knees and tried crawling to reach for her spear, which was on the far side of the campfire next to their bows. 

The two men laughed without pity as she groaned in pain crawling and they darted forward when they saw she apparently couldn’t defend herself.  One reached forward to grab her red hair by the roots.  She yelled in pain and fury as he wrenched her still as she tried to elbow him in the face.  She cursed him and struck him as he tried to pin her to the ground with one hand, axe in the other.  In the scuffle, he never heard his fellow fall a half dozen steps behind.    

Rising above him in the firelight, for a moment all she saw was a plume of red feathers above the man’s own head.  She heard him gasp as a blade snaked around and stabbed his belly to the hilt. Blood poured out of the wound.  The man dropped his axe as he doubled over in pain.  Nil grabbed the axe and chopped downwards into the middle of the man’s lower back as hard as he could.  The body of the man immediately crumpled, unable to stand due to the shattered vertebra but arms still flailing helplessly.  Nil strode back over to the other man he struck first, who was face down in the dirt gasping and desperately trying to crawl away despite major wounds to his lungs and kidney. He repeated the same maneuver with the axe, paralyzing him instantly. Nil kicked the man over onto his back and leapt down to straddle him. 

The look of terror as the man was hyperventilating from a sucking chest wound was intoxicating. As were the helpless screams of the other man still near the woman.  At this point, Nil likely would have gotten to the point of ending things a bit sooner, particularly if a battle raged on or if he needed a silent kill.  But these men did not deserve a quick end. He had nowhere to be but here.  Let the Thunderjaw hear their pleas for all he cared.  Nil watched inches from the dying man’s face as he grew ashen as life slowly sputtered out from him and the light crossed out of his face.

He dismounted the body, axe still in hand.  Face and torso covered in blood, he stood backup and strode over to the fire, axe head gleaming in the firelight.

“Mercy, sir!  Oh please, oh Sun God, no no nooooo…” wailed the still prone bandit piteously, unable to move.

“Mercy? From me?  I think not.  Ask her for mercy, for it was her that you were about to violate and kill. I’m sure she will oblige,” he grinned evilly, all his teeth showing as his words slurred slightly from the bloodlust.

He handed the axe to her still sitting on the ground. She immediately swung with all her strength and sunk the axe half a hand’s width into the front of his skull.  Instant lights out.  He gurgled from the ground and twitched spasmodically, then lay still.

“Hmmm…he had a little fight left in him. Could have stretched that out deliciously at least another minute or so,” drawled Nil as he tapped the body with his foot with all the detached appraisal of a teacher grading a precocious student.

“Nil!  Who were these men? And no, I don’t ‘stretch things out’ just because I must kill something or someone!” she spat out, her own blood up and riled.

“Easy Nora, easy! A simple thank you would have sufficed. I don’t turn over the job of finishing off scum easily,” he said.  “We’re in dangerous country now. These aren’t your precious and protected Savage Lands anymore.” 

“Sacred Lands, not savage!  They’re only savage to ignorant outsiders who don’t know better,” she fired back, still angry from the fight. "Us savages didn't slaughter thousands in the name of a sun god's mysterious wrath!"

“Okay, okay, Sacred Lands,” he raised his hands in placation. “These men were from the camp we cleared.  And would have taken you against your will and then killed you had I been but ten minutes later.”

“Taken me? Taken me where?” asked the Nora, clearly puzzled.

Sun God help her…some lessons come hard. She will learn soon enough.  I will teach her.

Chapter Text

Nil was aggravated that he was having one of the best days of his life with the Nora huntress and it ended with her snapping at him for apparently insulting her homeland.  He sighed and thought about the day’s earlier events. An afternoon spent clearing a bandit camp and watching a Thunderjaw under the stars with a beautiful and capable woman?  He could have died happy right there.  He never would have thought he would be able to actually have fun with anyone like that, let alone her. It was more than he ever deserved. 

Then she got injured…but she actually allowed him, the most notorious of Carja assassins, to help her. And to touch her! The first time he had ever even had skin to skin contact with a woman who wasn’t his mother, his tutor as a teen, or someone about to die at his hands as an assassin…and she didn’t immediately reject him!

He surmised that she was in a somewhat fragile state after nearly being killed by bandits….or worse.  He knew he had a lot to learn apparently about women and communication, and he knew he wouldn’t get many chances with her.  She likely had a list of suitors as long and as tall as the palace of Meridian itself.  Nil sighed again to himself and got back to cooking them a simple hot dinner.  He added the leftover smoked trout to the simmering water in the cooking pot along with some dried vegetables and spices he had in his pack from a Meridian Village merchant.  She watched silently, observing his movements and use of the seasonings curiously.  She had not yet tried much of the local cuisine in the Sundom as the majority of her meals lately consisted of whatever animal meat could be roast on a spit. Finally, she spoke.

“Nil, I’m sorry I spoke so sharply to you earlier…I just…I felt really helpless with those bandits. I’m used to being the strong one, the fighter, the warrior. I haven’t felt that helpless since…well…for months,” she unconsciously touched the right side of her neck where the Terror of the Sun had nearly fatally cut her throat just before Rost saved her.

“Was that from the Proving?” he asked perceptively.

“You know about that? I didn’t think you high and mighty Carja knew about our silly savage coming of age rituals,” she tried to joke with a smile.  He looked back at her seriously.

“You’d be surprised.  I had to learn a good bit about your culture. I started in the West, but I was mostly in Nora territory for the majority of the time when I was a soldier.  And I had heard rumors of what happened at the Proving months ago.  And that you won?  That must have been difficult with what happened later.  But enough about that.  How are you feeling now?”

“A bit shakier than usual.  And painful from the ankle.  But a bit hungry?” she said hopefully.  He chuckled.

“Indeed.  It's not uncommon to feel practically starving after a good fight.  Remember how the blood pounded in your ears?  They’ll ring later in the calm,” said Nil as he stirred the soup. “It’s a call to arms…from your inner desires.”

“Or a cry for help,” she retorted.

“I wouldn’t fight it,” he smirked conspiratorially.

“I can tell…” she quipped back.

Ah, there she is again.  She’s back… Nil thought with a smile.  Everyone else was too terrified or repulsed by his mannerisms and speech, but she could give it right back to him.  He loved it. He poured each of them some of the trout soup into bowls from his mess kit and sat down next to her, not touching but in companionable closeness in the firelight.  They ate in silence for a few minutes before she gathered up the courage to start asking more difficult questions again.

“So you mentioned you were in the Forbidden West and then mostly in the Sacred Lands for most of the war.  And you did…’things.’  Enough to go to prison for them.  What were these things you did, Nil?”

“Acceptable things.  Under the circumstances,” he replied nonchalantly between mouthfuls of soup.

“Acceptable to who?” she asked, a little sharpness coming back to her voice.

“I don’t make decisions. Let’s just say…the rules of engagement suited me.  But rules are important. A structure, a cage.  Otherwise, you know of those places?  Lonely places where people once were, now just a hole cut out in the world?  Chances are I was there before,” he explained. 

She frowned slightly.  She was not sure exactly what he meant.  He had such an odd way of speaking sometimes. It did not always make sense, but it was almost lyrical.  Like a song.  She decided not to press further.  It was going to be a long day of travel tomorrow even on her Strider and she didn’t relish it with her injury.  But she was already behind, so she was hopeful the ankle would be better by the morning. 

“Nil, I think I’m going to turn in.  But thanks for today. And for saving me from those men.  I’ll take second watch if you want the first watch.”

He nodded as he reached for his bow to keep it close.  “Absolutely.  I’ll make sure no more of those scum come sneaking around.”

She stretched out into her bedroll by the fire trying to keep her ankle in a comfortable but elevated position.  She was restless and a little chilly as the night air of the desert had cooled significantly and ended up rolling onto her side facing towards the campfire.  She had left a lot of her cold weather gear back in Nora territory since she figured it was warm both day and night in the Sundom.

She was just on the edge of sleep when she perceived a warm boarskin cloak being draped over her.  It was newer and still smelled mostly of the recently tanned leather and fox fur that lined it, but it had a warm, slightly spicy masculine smell.  Comforting like the blankets and cloaks she and Rost had used back in the Embrace, but a bit different.  She murmured appreciatively at the reassuring texture and fell almost immediately asleep.   

Nil had dragged away the bodies of the two bandits well away from the fire once she was asleep.  Let the vultures and crows have them.  Once he was done, he sat next to her upright for some time, his silvery eyes peering out into the darkness but deep in his own thoughts.  He doubted anyone else would appear, but he vowed to himself that he would never let one of her enemies come so close to her again.  Especially in such a vulnerable state.  He was not so sure how she’d do trying to walk tomorrow. So despite his promise he’d wake her up for second watch, he decided to let her have the whole night to rest.  She needed it to get healed up.  He could rest another time. 

He also swore to himself that he would never let his basest desires overtake him like those men nearly did this evening.  Yes, he spent enough time in the military and prison that he could turn nearly every word or phrase into a double entendre like the best of them.  But he knew if he pushed too far too fast, she’d either run away forever or even end his life right there.  And rightfully so.  That was not how he was raised, despite ignoring women practically his entire adult life. 

He had seen the sexual assault of both women and men during the Red Raids.  Sadists like Zaid loved to watch as they unleashed their soldiers on the powerless townspeople and physical violence was not the only violence they were good at.  He never participated, but seeing the two men they killed earlier target the huntress, his conscience ached when he thought of those lost years and if he could have done more. 

Notwithstanding her prowess for killing that matched his, she seemed a bit…naïve when it came to these other things.  He hadn’t heard much of her previous life living amongst the Nora yet, but he figured she surely must have been popular and desirable to her tribe.  Had she ever known a man?  He was not sure.  He resolved himself that if his wildest dreams came true and she ever came to choose him like he had her, he would pour his everything into her.  If she denied him, it may well kill him too.  But he wouldn’t push himself on her. Just encourage in his own decidedly unique way. She would have to walk through that door herself, even though he was flying a bit blind as well.

With these thoughts, Nil’s head had started to ache as it often did after battles and missions where the bloodlust had taken control of him.  He groaned quietly, drank some more water, and tried to massage his face and temples.  He didn’t remove his armor but took off his headdress and laid it off to the side.  He decided to close his eyes and lie down on the ground in his own bedroll next to the sleeping Nora just a few moments to rest.

The next thing he knew, he woke up with a start as dawn was approaching on the horizon, the mesas already starting to softly glow with the sun’s first light. He jerked upright and blinked, now remembering where he was and most importantly, who he was with.  His own cloak now laid over his shoulders. He realized she must have gotten up already and placed it over him.  

Best day of my life. And it wasn’t a dream, he thought.

“Good morning,” she greeted him with a small smile that had just a note of regret in her eyes as she added a log to the fire as she sat.  Nil looked around and noticed she appeared dressed and packed.  She had started to re-wrap her injured ankle just as he stirred but was finding it a good bit harder to do by herself.

“Hey…sorry I fell asleep. But you didn’t wake me?  Were you trying to sneak off without me, huntress?” he asked as he returned the smile, trying to keep the mood light but sensing the answer. He ran his fingers to smooth his somewhat unruly dark hair and put his headdress back on.

“It’s alright.  You seemed like you needed the rest as well.  But yes, I need to get going,” she said hurriedly.  She indicated the small relic at her temple.  “I just got a new lead from Sylens that I need to investigate right away up north.”

Nil cocked his head. A lead from silence?  What did she mean?  He didn’t question her further but knew it had to do with her mission, whatever that may be.  He noticed she had not included him on many details of this mission, which at present only seemed to partially or maybe just peripherally include him. The anticipatory ache of her absence was already forming again in the pit of his stomach. She seemed to sense his subtle change in mood.

“Sorry, Nil, I’m just so used to working alone, I’m not always the best…partner with others.  I was always taught to be very self-reliant all my life. Hope that makes sense,” she continued.  He nodded knowingly.  He likewise preferred to lean on himself and not others.  “Speaking of which, have you found a new partner?”

He looked her directly in the eye with that intense look of his.

“I thought we were partners."

She felt the slight hurt in his words, even though he covered it well.  Though she had relatively little experience with any matters of the heart, she felt a slight thrill at his use of the word "partners" and didn't feel he was only talking about hunting bandits and brigands as a team. She also intuitively sensed he would follow her anywhere if she but asked.  And a part of her almost wanted to.  But she couldn’t get him involved or worse, get him hurt or killed if he tried to protect her. Same as Erend, Varl, or anyone else she cared about.  Which begged the question if she was starting to care for the handsome Carja with a penchant for murder.  She didn’t want to think about that now when the road called her.  No sense complicating things.  All she knew is that when it came down to it in the end, this was her fight and her fight alone.

“I have my own roads to follow, Nil,” she said with a small, sad sigh.

“And they seem to lead back to bandits.  That works for me.  I’m not suggesting a Carja wedding,” Nil replied with a sly look.  She could not help but blush, so she turned away back to whistle for her Strider, who trotted up presently.

“Even riding on the Strider, I must say it’d likely be best if you rested another day.  But I understand that duty awaits.  Can I at least help with that?” he asked, pointing to the bandage.

She nodded and he gently flexed and extended her ankle to evaluate it as she sat in front of him.  It was stiff, sore, and a fairly impressive shade of purple and blue, but less overtly painful and swollen as it had been the night before.  He told her to soak it in cold water springs as much as she could and helped re-wrap the bandage so it would be at least a little more supportive while she was riding.  He helped her gingerly slide her boots back on and adjust the straps to accommodate for extra support from the bandage.  She gave a few halting steps and while it was uncomfortable, she felt she could at least walk some while mostly relying on the Strider. 

The huntress walked up slowly to the Strider with a hint of a limp and steadied it in place.  Before mounting, she paused and gave Nil’s upper arm a gentle squeeze in thanks below the machine plate pauldron.  He helped boost her onto the machine’s back and handed her up her supplies and weapons.

“Thank you, Nil.  Take care of yourself in the lonely wilds,” she said. 

“You know I’m never lonely where there’s killing to be done,” Nil said with as much warmth as he could muster, trying desperately to memorize every freckle on her face.

“Well…time to move on,” she said with finality as she shifted herself to a more comfortable position and looked back down on him.

“Alas…a brief encounter for us, but the end for them,” he replied, nodding back to the camp.  “They were squalid lives anyways…”

He trailed off but realized there was nothing clever left to say to keep her there just even a few moments longer.  She activated the Strider, moving the machine into a trot.  He stared at her disappearing form yet again.  But for the first time since she left him after their meetings, she made it about a hundred paces and looked back at him, a wistful smile on her lips. With this last look, the unrepentant killer’s heart that had been so cold and alone by choice for so many years both simultaneously soared and shattered in equal measure.

Then she turned and headed north, out of his life once again.

Chapter Text

The first few days after the huntress’s departure were surprisingly good.  Nil was cheerful for the first time in months since their very first meeting.  It was like a small seed that had buried in his chest his entire life was finally starting to grow a little.  But seeds need sustained warmth, light, and water to flourish and grow.  Unfortunately, it was starting to wilt with her departure just as soon as it had began.  Nil stayed around the camp for a few days until new townspeople and merchants started to arrive, as it was an advantageous spot for trade.  His elation started to slacken quickly once he settled back into his own solitary travel routine.

As he left the Gatelands and traveled further west, he replayed over and over in his mind every little interaction they had in the not quite full day they had spent together.  Nil reflected that she seemed maybe even a little sad when she left and otherwise seemed to tolerate if not enjoy his company.  He had touched her arm and foot and she had not resisted or looked disgusted.  She touched his shoulder and placed his cloak back over him when he was asleep.  She had not even shrank from him after she saw his full rage on display when he killed the bandits who tried to attack her.  She just didn’t agree with stretching it out, as he expected her to have the same efficiency he had seen in the other bandit camp.

Days stretched into weeks, but weeks stretched into months with no word about her.  Doubts started to creep in after a few months.  Was she hurt or in trouble?  Why had she not contacted him somehow? Had another person caught her eye in his absence as she completed whatever mystery missions she was on?

Nil had moved from infatuation to obsession.  He became jealous as the intrusive thoughts clouded his mind as time went on.  He knew he had no reason to be irritated at her, but he missed the little world they had carved out together, one bandit camp at a time.  Longing was turning into irritation and frustration, which were never a good combination for Nil as frustration bred aggression.  And when he had no outlet for his aggression and natural desire to seek excitement, he became progressively more unstable.

He traveled nearly to all the ends of the Sundom scouting for more camps as both an excuse to channel his aggression and to meet up with the Nora woman.  He found two more.  The first he found was called Blackwing Snag and was located nearly all the way to Sunstone Rock.  Nil almost contemplated stopping by the prison to see Janeva and check if Ryas had indeed been released yet, but at the last moment, he decided to stay away.  That was two years of his old life.  He was nearing the end of his assigned mission and he had no desire to go back until the job was done and he would declared free.

The next camp was Shattered Kiln up in the far north by Maker’s End.  The two camps were an appreciable distance apart taking many days journey between them, but Nil felt for sure that she would show at one or the other eventually.  So in his desire to wait for her, he made a slow circuit back and forth between them over the passing months.

Besides fewer camps, there were also far fewer bandit patrols these days.  His work with the huntress was almost too effective.  When they first parted, he found pretty steady work of raiders and ambush parties, their mortal wounds just opening to accept his arrows.  But as weeks turned into months since she last saw him, they trickled down to nearly nothing. He would catch a few here and there maybe once or twice a month, just a few stragglers of two or three common thieves really, but it was not enough to control his rising agitation.  He knew killing anyone else besides bandits was forbidden.  There were days he was nearly tempted as  he was bored of machine prey, but he knew if he was caught again, there would be no third chance at rehabilitation.

Nil wandered the Jewel where he spent much of his youth hunting machines or animals for food. He was nostalgic for this time and almost considered sneaking back to Meridian to visit his parents.  But he was not supposed to be released yet, at least officially on paper.  Perhaps it was an option in the future when his sentence was formally over. But for now, he had to finish off the last of the bandit threat.  And while he could roll through the last of them quickly enough, it just would not be the same without the huntress.  His huntress, he thought possessively.

On a stop to pick up more supplies near Meridian, Nil heard rumors that Blackbird Snag had been cleared of not only bandits, but also a Tenakth warrior woman who had plotted with two others to destroy Sunstone Rock.  It had to be the Nora’s work.  It just had to.  He was relieved to hear she was not only alive, but that only left Shattered Kiln as the very last place he could see her. He also was irritated with the fact that he waited for her, but she apparently did not wait for him.  But no matter, he went north with haste and rarely stopped for the night.

The camp was fairly large but he stalked it relentlessly for nearly two weeks. He practically knew the names of all the sentries and the snipers as well as their habits and the times of their shifts.  After they had missed each other at Blackwing Snag, he became obsessed with not missing her arrival and barely ate or slept with the anticipation he built up in his own head.  

The day finally came when she came to the camp, fresh from her own quest at nearby Maker’s End.  It was a difficult journey both physically and emotionally, but she decided it was time to end the bandit camp threat on her way south. He finally saw her before she saw him and practically moaned as he got to his feet, equal parts ecstatic and annoyed it had taken her so long.  She walked over to him and greeted him warmly enough, not aware yet of his inner turmoil.  But once she had a look at him, her intuition told her he was not doing as well the last time she had spent with him nearly six months earlier. He looked thinner and tired with a more manic gleam to his eyes than usual.

“I waited for you,” he said with a slight accusation in his tone even though he was attempting with difficulty to sound casual.  “Time passing pulls the anticipation tight as wire.  Ah…how many has it been now?”

Her eyebrows raised as she answered, “I don’t keep count, Nil.”

“Don’t keep count?” he replied incredulously.  “Sometimes I just don’t get you.  Are you like us? Or a little different?”

“Hopefully a little different?”

“That’s what you going to tell yourself…” he said with more snark than she was used to hearing from him, but he brightened up slightly with the job at hand. “Anyways…shall we get started?”

She had her misgivings based on his current state, but she was there to finish the task. They cut through the camp with a now well practiced precision.  They were nearly twice as fast as before. Nil practically sang as they loosed arrows together.  But the coda of the song was now complete as the last of the bandits fell to their bows, spear, and blades.  She freed the captives as was typical.  She found him standing with his back leaning on the palisade of the now complete camp, eyes closed and breathing deeply to relish this one final time.  He knew it would be the last.  She approached him cautiously.

“We’ve come a long way from Nora land.  Where have you been, Nil?” she asked, trying to figure out what had shifted in him.  He just did not seem himself.

“I heard the roads of the Sundom were no longer safe.  And thankfully that was true.  But you knew this already.  You’ve been walking the edge of life and death.  I can tell…” he said softly, opening his eyes finally and looking at her closely. He was not the only one worn thin.

“Yeah…it’s…a long story,” she said slowly trailing off.

A story she still doesn’t trust me to hear… he thought with his frustration rising again. But he continued.

“With many quick endings I hope,” Nil said. “Makes you wish you could kill them more than once, doesn’t it?”

“No, once is enough,” she replied.

“You’re right, of course.  Once is enough…when you really make it count. But it’s so bittersweet. Like a smile through bloodied teeth,” he said distantly.

“What’s the matter?” she asked earnestly, still wondering why he seemed forlorn. “You look so disappointed.”

“The bandit clans are gone,” he said as he stretched out his hand with finality now that they had finished the last.  “I heard another turned back at the southern plains…just a sniff at the legend we carved!”

“That’s what all this bloodshed was for.  To end the bandit threat!” she said, confused at why that would be a problem.  

“Now there’s nothing left to kill…” Nil replied as if the answer was obvious.  He shook his head and looked more agitated than ever, as if he was having an inner war within himself.  He then stared at her with a hunger she had never been on the receiving end of.  The hair on the back of her neck started to rise.  She did not like how this was going but she didn’t understand why.  But she knew how quickly he could turn.

“Unless…no…no…”

She sensed he was getting progressively unstable and decided it was time to leave him, possibly forever.  She had started to like him back at the Gatelands.  Maybe even was starting to fall for him a bit.  She missed him in her absence and had looked forward to meeting up with him again when her duty to the mission allowed, but this strange duality within him was unnerving. Why was he like this? There had to be a reason.

“I guess this is our last farewell…” she said cautiously, not wanting to upset him, but knowing it was likely inevitable.

Nil looked down at the ground without speaking for a moment, as if he had come to an understanding within himself.  He looked back up at her, his face rearranged in a more neutral mask. She almost would have preferred him to be arguing loudly in protest of their last departure at her insistence.  His voice became calm and collected, though she thought she detected the slight slur like when she saw the bloodlust in him so many months ago.

“After all we’ve been through? This isn’t the place for that…” he said almost quietly.  “There’s a mesa south of Meridian with a view of the Spearshafts.  Meet me there.”

Nil turned on his heel and walked away without a backwards glance.  No sardonic yet winning smile.  No gleam in his silvery blue eyes that sparkled with a secret mirth.  No quip or sarcastic comment just a little too close to home to get a rise out of her.  Nothing. 

She found the whole exchange disconcerting and confusing.  She prepared to leave the camp once she sold off her surplus inventory.  She wanted to travel light to the mesa.  She had a multitude of other tasks and errands to complete, but she vowed to see this to its completion. A very brief stop at Meridian to check in with a few friends like Talanah and Ligan and some of the merchants was the only side trip she made before making her way to the impressive mesas.  She didn’t know what he intended, but she knew at minimum he was possibly a danger to himself if not others. 

As she traveled south, she remembered a time almost ten years before when she was bidden by her adoptive father Rost to come into the forest.  She was instructed to bring her hunter’s bow, a recent gift marking her first decade.  As they moved through the Embrace, he told her to be careful and watchful.  After walking for a time, Rost spotted the target of his inquiry: a boar about 50 paces away from them.  Rost told her to watch the beast.  It was a big, stocky male stumbling around the bushes and trees.  She didn’t understand at first. 

He then told her to quietly climb a tree for safety, which they both did, hunting bows and all.  As she watched from the limb of a stout pine tree, she noticed the boar was agitated at seemingly nothing at all.  As the animal moved closer to them, she could hear the grinding of its teeth and see the saliva dripping from its strong jaws.  It started pressing its head against the stump of a tree for no reason, then stopped and reverted back to staggering around. 

“He’s been at this for a few days.  I recognize him from my other hunts, but he’s never acted like this before,” Rost murmured softly to the girl.  “Before I came to go get you, he was acting aggressively towards the other pigs as well. Tossing his head, ramming them, trying to bite.  He could be a bit testy like lots of boars can be, but nothing like this.”

She nodded in concern. 

“Sometimes animals get a sickness in their minds.  They want to fight for seemingly no reason and attack other animals unprovoked.  Even other animals they are familiar with.  Sometimes they bite or scratch.  Sometimes towards the end, they just lay on the ground unable to move or eat or drink.  I’ve seen it once before in a fox I came across.  It was unable to rise but still twitching and seizing up.  It was…not a good death.  I relieved its suffering and buried its body, not even skinning it for meat or fur.  I fear this boar has the same condition.  I brought you here so you could see the signs in case you ever came across another animal with this disease in the wild.  And I want you to likewise relieve his suffering.”

She looked down at the once handsome animal.  The normally shiny coat of the boar looked listless and the pig was getting gaunt, having likely had not eaten in several days.  It was a shame, but it was what had to be done.  She nodded in agreement and readied her best arrow as she steadied herself in the tree to take the shot.  The boar heard the noise and spooked a bit, but did not see them up in the trees.  It gave a blood curdling squeal and ground its jaws in agitation, the razor sharp tusks clacking as if trying to find the source of the noise.  She drew and released, sending the arrow point right into the eye of the suffering animal.  It screamed as it fell and spasmed hard as if it was running on its side from an invisible demon.  It finally lay still.  She felt ill for the animal and sorrow for its loss, but knew it was the right thing to do.

Rost and the young huntress waited until they were sure it was dead and moved the body far from any water source and dug a simple grave.  They place a small pile of rocks to deter scavengers. 

It was this formative experience from her childhood that she thought of as she climbed the mesa to meet Nil.  She doubted she’d have to wait for him.  He was indeed at the top, along with a few now deceased bandits scattered by a campfire.  He looked even more haggard and thin, his eyes hard and flinty, and his face almost ashen. Her heart ached at what she knew had to happen at this point, but she tried once more to reach him.

“Nil…I did wonder on my way here…well, if you were leading me into an ambush,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Where’s the fun in that? Some bandit sprawl would never have done for our arena.  But this?  Much better.  There’s a sense of drama,” he replied as he indicated the beautiful view from the top of the mesa at sunset.  “So…what do you say?  How about we try to kill each other?”

“Wait…you brought me out here to ask if I want to fight you?” she said, both somewhat surprised and relieved that he at least was not about to attack her out of nowhere.

“To the death! We’ll savor it because we only get this one time…” Nil answered, wound tight with anticipation and voice starting to drawl.  He would get the best fight of his life, wasted life as it was.  And no matter the outcome, he welcomed it gladly.  The cause of the pain and destruction of his heart, mind, and soul would be over…one way or another.  

“Actually, I don’t know what else I expected,” she said sadly. “If this is how this has to end, Nil…”

“Everything does.  Only you’re so conscientious.  I wouldn’t want to pressure you into something that wasn’t genuine.  Especially death.  There’s nothing more genuine,” he said with a lovingly fond tone, as if Death was simply a misunderstood friend.

“That’s very…thoughtful of you.  Let’s finish this…” she said with resignation. She did not want to kill him, but he seemed in such a dangerous state, she almost talked herself into thinking it was the right thing to put him out of his misery like some rabid animal.  But something still nagged at the back of her mind with the way he was acting, especially now.

They squared off on the mesa top, both readying their weapons.  With a detached finality, she initially decided simple hardpoint arrows would be best.  No need to cause him undue pain and suffering.  He had his own bow and sword at the ready, twitchy and ready to go.  She glanced at her full quiver, ready to grab what she needed for the duel. 

Looking down at her arrow supply, all at once, the realization hit her.  She gasped in disbelief.  The pieces fell into place.  It all made sense, she just had to test her theory.

Unfortunately, Nil didn’t give her the opportunity as she wasted precious seconds as he advanced on her.  All his pent-up rage, frustration, and despair combined with the bloodlust. There was no stopping him or reasoning with him. Looking like a demonic fiend, he bellowed out taunts to get her to attack. To end it.  To end him.  Or end them both.

“There’s something of me inside you!  You’ll show me!” Nil slurred as he drew the Voice of Our Teeth on her. 

She dodged the arrow and rolled behind the large rock piles and gritted her teeth in frustration.  She had to hold him off in some attempt to explain what her theory was.  To at least give her a chance.  But he was beyond reason and help. Nil the kind protector at the Gatelands bandit camp who gently tended to her injured ankle and thoughtfully gave her his warm cloak was gone. The savage butcher, the reckless assassin, and the blood crazed war criminal was all that was left. And it was all directed at her. 

“No need to pretend you don’t enjoy it…” he taunted lasciviously, still stalking her. “I admit I’ve thought about this moment…many times!”

“Dammit and damn him!” she growled to herself. He had left her no choice.  She had to finish this. She reached into the quiver, picked three arrows, and triple nocked them.  She stayed crouched until he was a mere ten paces from her.

“You’re holding yourself back, Nora!  Why?” he shouted bitterly as he took another shot in her direction, trying to flush her out from her cover of the rocks.

She slid out of her crouching position and let the arrows fly straight at his almost completely unprotected chest.

Chapter Text

The jungle was quiet for once, even near sunset.  No birds sang. No machines could be heard whirring as they patrolled endlessly.  Even the insects were silent for a few moments as the forest held its breath.  The huntress picked herself up off the ground and took a minute to dust herself off and catch her breath.  She closed her eyes and exhaled long before she was able to collect herself, then strode over to the body lying prone in the scrub on the top of the mesa.  She stared at him carefully. 

Nil had taken three of her most powerful tearblast arrows directly in the chest.  The same concussive force that could pop the disc launcher off a Thunderjaw at over one hundred paces had struck him square and at point blank range.  They had sent him flying backwards and he struck his head on a rock as he fell.  She didn’t put much thought into it when she chose those arrows but knew it could possibly kill him.  Not that she had much choice.  And not that he wouldn’t deserve it.  A not so inconsequential part of herself wanted to shove him off top of the mesa right then and leave his carcass for the scavengers. But after what they had been through and what she had learned of his past at Sunstone Rock from the warden, she at least wanted to give him a chance and test her theory.

She knelt and observed his form.  He was unconscious and breathing, but barely.  It would likely take him some time to come to.  His headdress had been knocked off and his now dull dark hair hung around his face. She looked down at his chest, already blooming with a large contusion from the impact.  She was looking for a particular scar or mark on his skin.  He had numerous scars on his chest and shoulders, which was not particularly surprising given his upbringing as a hunter and occupation in the military.  She rolled his torso over so she could examine his back.  Her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she saw a small, barely perceptible green-ish haze under the skin of a scar near his spine just under the ribs.  It was faint enough to not be perceptible to most and not in a place where the Carja typically would tattoo themselves.  She felt the scar with her fingertips.  A small lump was palpable under the scar, probably no larger than a kernel of maize.

“Ah ha…just as I expected,” she said to herself in satisfaction. She rolled him back over onto his back. He was still out, head lolling to the side.  She saw that there were perhaps only a few minutes to spare to scramble down the side of the mesa, refill her waterskin, pick a few herbs, and perhaps find something to eat before it was dark.  She looked at Nil’s prone form.  He may be unconscious for a while still.  But she had no idea how quickly or even violently he would wake up.  She had been kind in not ending him that day, but she was no fool.  The huntress took out a length of her rapelling rope and bound his hands and feet together, then prepared to descend the mesa to the jungle floor.

In the twilight, she found the closest river as well as some of the herbs she was looking for.  On her way back, she shot a young turkey hen and climbed back up just in the nick of time to start the campfire before true dark.  She was plucking the bird to clean and roast when she noticed him stirring finally.  He groaned low in pain and vomited into the grass next to him, still firmly bound.  She walked over to kneel again near him, her face stony and green eyes staring hard.  

“The Sun God has forsaken me.  So has the All Mother Herself come to take me to the afterlife?” he croaked with bleary eyes after he wiped his mouth of bile on the back of his tied-up hands. “Ah...not quite…it’s the fire haired huntress who haunts me in death too as she haunted me in life.”

She simply frowned down at him and grumbled.  

“Oh…don’t look so concerned. Not the first time I’ve woken up bound from being knocked unconscious.”

“Well, at least you seem more…coherent than you did an hour ago…when you tried to murder me,” she said, trying to keep her temper in check.

“I should say that I always knew it would end this way since we first met. But if I’m honest, I thought I could take you,” he replied, his more familiar lilt returning to his voice.

“Nil, would you shut up for once and just answer my questions?” she flared, standing up as he remained seated on the grass. Her nerves were beyond frayed and she ended up nearly screaming at him in frustration.  She had so much still to do and he was again being obtuse.  “SO WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?”

He was silent for a minute. He licked his dry lips.

“Why am I like what…a killer?  That would be like asking why a Stalker stalks.  They just…do.  It’s what I have done to survive, huntress,” Nil replied more seriously.

“No, I don’t mean why do you kill.  As clearly so do I, but for different reasons.  I want to know why you get these…rages.  The spikes in the aggression you have when you are frustrated or in a fight or are…being protective,” she said as she thought back to their second bandit camp when he defended her. “I want to figure out when and why they started and why they seem to be getting worse.  Did you have these same issues when you were younger?”

“Hmmm…I mean…I’ve always had a bit of a temper myself when pushed past my point of control.  I’m not exactly a people person, if you cannot tell.  But I worked hard to control my emotions,” his forehead knit in thought as he tried to recall.  “But as far as the rage and loss of control I feel?  I do think it’s been around for my adult life.  Probably since I became a soldier.”

She started to nod and pace around the fire.

“Okay, so these episodes started when you were a soldier.  Did you ever get injured in combat, say with an arrow wound?  Maybe around the same time you first started having these berserker kinds of episodes?”

Nil tried to recall into his past, despite the pounding headache in his present from the concussion. 

“I’ve been injured a fair few number of times, as any soldier has been.  But I’ve only taken an arrow once that I can recall. Mostly because not long after that particular battle, they decided my talents were to be used for other atrocities beyond cannon fodder.  It was the Battle of Cinnabar Sands.  My unit was nearly overrun by the Tenakth hoards. I was basically pinned down and I had to make a decision to fight or be captured and killed.  An arrow hit me in the back somewhere at some point. I blacked out, but I pulled the shaft out and it seemed to heal well enough?  Didn’t strike anywhere vital. Didn’t even bleed that much. Why do you ask?”

“If my theory is correct, you were hit by a corruption arrow.  Maybe it even came from one of your fellow Carja soldiers.  Stand up,” she told him. He gave her a helpless, pleading look and nodded to the ropes around his wrists and ankles.

“Alright, fine, fine…but if you turn against me again, you will wish tearblast arrows are all I’d use on you,” the huntress glowered at him as she cut the knots and untied him.  “Be careful standing.  Don’t need you passing out yet again.”

He did as he was told.  She beckoned him to turn around in front of her, which he did.  She placed a finger on the faint green color around the scar on the middle of his back and felt the tiny mass beneath the skin. 

“I would bet a thousand shards that this is an old corruption arrowhead of some kind.  It just behaves differently than your standard arrowhead,” she concluded.  He gaped at her.  “And that corruption arrowhead fragment is still poisoning you, particularly when you are already agitated or in a heightened state during a fight or battle. It turns you aggressively against who you are fighting, whether you are supposed to be or not.” 

He tried to reach back there to touch the spot with his own fingers, but couldn’t quite reach with his broad shoulders.

“No wonder you never noticed it.  But it must come out, otherwise the cumulative effects of the poison may drive you mad for good. Or before someone else kills you first…” she added sagely, narrowing her eyes at him.

“How do you propose I…or we…take whatever it is out of me?” asked Nil pointedly.

“Well, I took the liberty of relieving you of your weapons while you were unconscious.  The lump there is quite small, so I think a little nick of the knife and removal of the arrowhead and you should be healed.”   

Nil couldn’t help but blanch at the prospect.  This would take tremendous trust.  But she of all people was capable and he knew she certainly would not harm him.  He owed her everything to try.

“Let’s go for it,” he gulped and nodded.

As she busied herself getting the items she prepared ready, Nil drank some more water as he was quite dehydrated. She made a poultice out of the corruption glaze root she collected down in the jungle as well as brewing a few extra vials of corruption antidote potion.  She also made a simple turkey broth from chunks of meat from the bird she had just hunted along with added salt from the Meridian market.  He sipped the broth slowly as she laid out the necessary supplies by the light of the fire.

Once she was ready, she told him to lay down on his stomach on his bedroll.  She splashed some clean water to flush off the sweat and dirt from his back where he had slid during their duel.  She heated the tip of his sharpest knife briefly in the fire, letting it cool slightly before she squeezed the skin around the small mass and drew the blade expertly over the top.  It cut just skin as Nil hissed and inhaled sharply with the pain.  She squeezed slightly and blood with a barely perceptible green fluid oozed out.  Using a clean cloth, she plucked a little arrowhead fragment out of the incision and held pressure there to stop the bleeding.  She packed the wound with the corruption glaze root poultice to allow it to draw out the poison and had him sit up so she could bandage his torso to keep the poultice in place.  She would let it heal on its own to drain the poison out.

“All done,” she said with finality. 

“Could have been worse,” Nil winced, looking down at his partially bandaged and badly bruised torso, but none too worse for the wear considering the previous events of the rest of the day. 

She studied the fragment of arrowhead, which looked like a standard piece of metal, but with a green glassy tip.  She had not seen something like this before.  She pulled out one of her own corruption arrows from her quiver for comparison.

“This doesn’t look like a standard corruption arrow.  As you know, they are made from metal shards and ridge-wood shafts.  The arrowheads are dipped into a metalburn solution and allowed to dry, then used to produce a berserker state that lasts no more than a few seconds to a few minutes.  Depending of course on the depth of the wound, number of arrows, whether human, animal, or machine. But this has a different component.  Do you recognize it?”

Nil squinted at the arrowhead.  The metal indeed looked normal, but something about the glass tip made him remember something from his time in the Forbidden West.

“I think it could be what we called ‘greenshine.’  You don’t tend to see it in the Sundom or east of here much except maybe some very specialized merchants in Sunfall or Meridian.  But Oseram delvers would find it in the Daunt and beyond and sell it as decorative trinkets and more in Barren Light,” he recalled.

“I’ll have to do some research into what exactly the greenshine is.  The color reminds me a bit of blaze as well, but having a metalburn component seems possible.  How long ago was the original wound, Nil?” she asked.

“Probably almost six years ago,” he answered while sipping more broth.  She could tell he was getting tired, but she wanted to get to the bottom of this.

“So hit by a stray arrow and it has basically been poisoning you ever since,” said the Nora thoughtfully.  “My guess is the effects are additive since they have gotten more frequent and severe as time has gone on.  I’m not sure exactly what will happen now that we have it out of you.  But it may not be pleasant.  There could be…withdrawls.  Like when you’ve had too much alcohol to drink for too long and then it is taken away from you suddenly. It could be painful and make you feel very sick since you no longer have it in you. Hard to say how long or how severe. We’ll see how it goes, but for now, you need to rest.”

He nodded and she got up and turned away to clear away the supplies.

“But before you finish up, I have a serious request,” he said quietly.

She stopped what she was doing and looked him back in the face.

“What I did today was…inexcusable.  Unforgiveable. I don’t really deserve this second chance.  I would understand if you never trust me again.  I don’t know how much of my…problem is the corruption arrow versus me just being me.  So who knows if this will even help. I hope it does. But if this doesn’t work…” he trailed off heavily.

“Nil, come, get some sleep,” she said, sensing he was getting despondent.  “We’ll talk later.”

“No.  I want to tell you now.  If this doesn’t help me…I want you to do the right thing,” he said solemnly, dropping his gaze.

“Hey, it’s okay…” she said, kneeling back next to him.

“You were…are…the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said hoarsely as he looked back up at her, struggling with the words. “But if I even came close to hurting you again, I’d end it all myself.  Throw myself right off this mesa if needed.  But I would request that you would shoot me instead, but in the front.  So I can see your face…once more…before I die.”

She was thunderstruck at his admission and felt a sudden well of tears come unbidden at the corners of her eyes.  Biting her lip and squeezing her eyes shut to will herself not to cry, she didn’t quite trust herself to speak just then.  She exhaled and looked him in the eyes for several long moments, so full of doubt and anguish.

“You have my word.  Never from the back,” she gave him a pained smile and reached down to squeeze his hand.  “But for now, lay down and get some sleep. I fear the next few hours will be hard.”

Chapter Text

The Huntress

The huntress was correct.  The night indeed proved very difficult.  But she was resolved to watch Nil.  As much as she was still untrusting of him after what had happened, she thought of the man who cared for her own injury and figured she had owed him as much to return the favor.   

Before laying down to rest, she had him eat a few bites of cooked turkey and drink more water.  He was underweight already but she did not think it wise to get him to eat a lot until he was through this ordeal.  Better to eat smaller, simple meals and to rehydrate him. 

The first few hours, Nil slept lightly.  She set about to fletching more arrows and sharpening her spear to keep herself busy from across the campfire.  She watched him carefully, knowing that while he was sleeping now, the withdrawal symptoms may take some time to appear. 

But around the middle of the night, he started sleeping more fitfully.  She had dozed off herself at the work area she had set up, but she was awoken to his moans and twitches. She wasn’t sure if it was just a bad dream at first, but then she noticed he had started sweating. Concerned, she sat by his side as the twitching progressed to larger tremors. She grew alarmed when she could not seem to rouse him after calling his name, so she sat him up as best as she could so he wouldn’t choke and dripped a few drops of the corruption antidote potion into his mouth. 

After a very long minute, the tremors slowed and he slumped back still unconscious into her arms.  She lowered him back to his bedroll and cradled his head in her lap as she sat there cross legged.  She was not exactly sure what else to do for him and hated feeling this helpless, but she was reminded of a time when she was a child and had a severe fever.  Rost had kept her cooler by dabbing her face and neck with cold, damp cloths, so she did the same as she softly stroked his sweat-soaked hair.

Nil seemed to settle back for a time and calmed into easier breathing, so she eased his head gently back down and resigned to herself that she would stay by his side the rest of the night.  He still muttered a few indistinguishable words from time to time but otherwise was resting more quietly.  She maintained the fire and lay next to him, watching his fatigued but still handsome face in the firelight as if for the first time.  She was almost tempted to trace the lines where his eye tattoos ended just above the noble cheekbones, then down to where his jawline sloped, now covered with dark stubble in recent days and weeks.

She wasn’t sure how long she lay there just watching him when she saw his eyelashes twitch and flutter as the lids slid half open.  The quicksilver eyes that normally she swore could look through her soul were on her, but they looked distant and unfocused.

“Hun…tresss…” he murmured.  She sat up slightly.

“Nil, I’m here,” she answered encouragingly touching his shoulder to let him know she was right there. “What do you need? How do you feel?”

“I…love you…” he whispered so quietly before his eyes closed again that she almost didn’t believe he said it. He moaned softly almost like a sigh and went back to sleep.

She again was stunned.  It was a part of the fever, she was sure of it.  He didn’t mean it, did he? And yet he had told her how important she was to him earlier that day.  Nil seemed absolutely serious then and she doubted he made those kinds of confessions frequently or lightly.  She had no point of reference regarding what to do or think.  He…loved her?  But he tried to kill her.  But how much was due to the poison that had been infused into his blood for over a quarter of his life?  She couldn’t be sure until he hopefully came out on the other side. Regardless, when he woke, she would not mention what he had said in his fever dream. She did not wish to embarrass him if he was not sincere.

As Nil slept, she contemplated this further.  She had never been told this before by anyone save her adoptive father and even he said it sparingly.  Rost was a man used to showing his affection with action, not deeds.  An appreciative look and a nod meant more than effusive praise and flowery words in his world.  Both men and women had flirted with her a bit since she had left for the Proving, but she brushed it off.  She was not used to the verbal dance required in those social interactions and did not really know the steps.  The thought of a delicate back and forth where you had to be interesting and interested (but not too interested!) seemed terribly confusing and mostly unwelcome, so she had just let it wash over her.

In addition, how exactly did she feel about him?  It was…complicated.  She liked him a lot.  He baited her about her worldview but didn’t tear her down either.  He seemed smart and well educated.  He challenged her. They had a natural rhythm when they fought together, both being hunters and…well…killers.  He appreciated her skills and wasn’t bothered or threatened by them.  In some ways, they were very much alike in ways her other friends and allies could not understand.  He was undeniably handsome, and his magnetism and intensity when he looked at her made her feel a thrill deep inside herself that she was only beginning to understand.

She knew nothing of Carja notions of romance.  She only knew that in the world she grew up somewhat apart from, Nora customs were pretty relaxed.  An interested couple could be mated in the eyes of the tribe because of their feelings for each other and a desire to have a strong pair bond to raise children.  But a mated pair was not necessarily forever or even long term.  Couples could go their separate ways with little fanfare if desired, generally no hard feelings.  If Nil loved her and if she returned those feelings, what would it look like if they were together? She had no idea.  She didn’t quite know his itinerary beyond wiping out bandit camps and that seemed to be done.

She could ask him to join her, teach him how to use a Focus, and let him in on all of her plans.  He’d likely say yes, but she still feared the loss of anyone she cared about.  Rost died for her, and his loss just over six months ago would be a wound that would never completely heal.  She would miss him for the rest of her life. 

Nil had shown he would defend her to the death if needed. How many other friends and allies would she have to lose to bring down the Eclipse and HADES?  If she gave her whole heart to him and she got him killed, particularly on her behalf, she would never forgive herself.  He was plenty capable as a warrior, but there was always a possibility, and the next few weeks would likely be the most dangerous yet.  It made her stomach churn thinking about not just Nil but Erend, Varl, Talanah, Petra, Avad, and even more of her allies she had met along the way all leading up to this final confrontation.  Her world, once so small and simple, was so much bigger.  She did not want to lose a single part of it.

She decided now was not the time.  Once he was stable, she would have to leave again and that would be the test.  She could be gone weeks at least and he would have to be able to handle that.  Her place in this world was becoming clearer with every passing discovery and nothing was more important.  If they both finished this final mission together, she would be open to more. 

It was with these thoughts that she nearly went to sleep.  But before she did, she followed a strange impulse that she had never done before:  she rolled over slightly towards him, touched his face by his temples with one hand, and pressed her forehead lightly to his, their noses almost touching.  She wondered what it would be like to kiss his lips too, but resisted the urge. He didn’t react as he was sleeping more deeply.  She then sighed contentedly for once not minding the closeness of another person, pulled away, shut her eyes, and went to sleep next to a now gently snoring Nil.

In the morning, she woke up first just after dawn.  She propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at her charge appraisingly.  He still looked tired and likely needed more rest.  But it seemed like the fever had broken as she touched his forehead with her palm and noted he was no longer covered in a sheen of perspiration.  His color seemed better with less pallor.  The breathing was slow and steady.  The bruising was still on his chest, now an angry blue and purple motley, but it would heal. 

She quietly extricated herself from her own bedroll and went to add a few logs to the dying fire.  She decided today would be the day to have Nil start eating more regularly to get his strength back up, so she warmed up some more turkey meat and broth so she would have it ready for his breakfast.  She made sure she was well stocked on antidote potion just in case his symptoms relapsed and chopped up a few more corruption glaze roots to have ready for a bandage change. 

It was past mid-morning and he had been asleep at least twelve hours when she decided to wake him so he could eat a bit.  Not wanting to startle him, she called his name quietly.  He did not stir.  So she sat down next to him and gently placed a hand on his shoulder.  He continued to lie still.  She shook his shoulder and his eyelids again fluttered and came open.  She was pleased to see that while he still had deep undereye circles, but his eyes themselves looked as clear as she had ever seen them as he woke up.

“Hi,” she said, giving him a small smile.

“Hello…” he replied, voice still a bit hoarse and sleepy.  He blinked a few times, stretched, and sat up.

“Just wanted to make sure you are okay and get some food and water in you. How do you feel?”

Nil said nothing for a few moments, considering thoughtfully what to say.  He looked around him.  The mid-morning sun was bright and it was already considerably warm and buzzing with the sounds of the rainforest.  He took a few deep breaths and touched the bruises on his chest.

“I feel…alive.  Painful.  And sore.  And a headache.  But alive.  To meet Death so closely and yet come back to life, pain must be involved,” he said solemnly.

She helped him stand up gingerly so he could take care of his toilet needs off into the forest and while she waited for his return, she poured him another bowl of hot broth with pieces of turkey.  He came back from relieving himself and sat and ate the basic food quickly, his stomach growling.  She offered him some fresh, cool water and cautioned him not to eat too much too soon. 

Once the food had settled and he seemed a bit stronger by the afternoon, the Nora told him it was time for a bandage change for the incision on his back, especially since he had been sweating profusely during the night.  Nil agreed and besides cleaning the wound, he felt a proper bath and a shave would feel excellent too.  She spotted him on the descent as they both slowly climbed down the mesa.  It was slow going.  What normally would have taken him a few minutes in his youth exploring the Jewel took nearly an half an hour.  He gritted his teeth a few times in discomfort, but he made it down safely. 

The pair of hunters took the long way round to avoid the Stalkers to the southeast.  They decided it was best for them to meet back at a campfire near a Charger herd when they were done with their respective errands so he wouldn’t have to climb back up the mesa with his injuries.  Nil went west to the river after she gave him some soaproot juice and his shaving knife and other weapons back as he seemed to no longer be a risk of attacking her since the removal of the arrowhead fragment.  She turned north to look for game (she had promised she’d try to shoot something besides turkey) and some edible greens and vegetables to cook.

The huntress found boar plentiful and shot and field dressed a young one.  She didn’t like wasting game if she could help it and it was just her carrying the meat back.  She headed back south and brought the carcass to the edge of a stream to wash the excess blood off the meat and her hands after skinning and butchering.  She was deep in her thoughts when she happened to look up and see Nil perhaps not even a hundred paces upstream on the bank preparing to take a bath.  She froze in place, not wanting to startle him.  Then she realized before they set out, she had switched to her armor with the best stealth weaves to hunt with.  She realized he would not likely see her as she slipped silently behind some bushes. 

Nil already had no shirt or tunic on from the night before.  He unwound the cloth bandages and set them aside.  He carefully wiped the now used poultice from the wound.  He splashed a bit of water on his back and applied some of the soap root juice to clean it, followed by another rinse.  She nodded silently with approval, but then her cheeks blushed scarlet as she realized what he was about to do next.  He kicked off his boots and peeled off his dirty trousers and underclothes, tossed them off to the side to wash later, and strode into the deeper part of the stream.  She cursed to herself under her breath, knowing she should not watch him as an invasion of his privacy, so she ducked her face into her hands. 

Nil knelt down in the water and sat up to his waist for a few moments with his eyes closed.  She glanced back through her hands at him.  He looked as serene as she had ever seen him as he sat enjoying the cool running water on this hot afternoon.  He then picked up the soap root and shaving knife he had set on a nearby rock to wash and shave his face first.  She watched him absolutely spellbound as he moved the razor sharp blade over his jaws, cheeks, and neck, but left the smaller goatee around his chin and mouth.  He did it with a sensual grace with precise smooth strokes.  How many lives had met their end with his blade at their throats? No wonder he shaves like it is an artform, she thought to herself.  He then washed his hair and dunked his whole head under the water to rinse off the soapy residue. 

All the sudden, he got to his feet, the depth of the stream now barely past the middle of his shins.  His whole body was now on display and this time, she could not and would not look away from her spot hidden behind the bushes.  He used a little more soap on his torso and underarms, scrubbing away the dirt and sweat.  She stared at the hair and muscles on his taut chest and for a moment felt more than a little guilty at the bruises she had left him there from her tearblast arrows from the day before. 

She was at a bit of a distance, but it was the first time she had seen a man fully naked before.  The Nora as a group were not terribly private as a tribe and it wasn’t unusual to bathe with one’s mate or family at a stream or river.  But as outcasts, Rost had taught her the basics of cleanliness from an early age and left her to it, instructing her to stay well away from popular spots for swimming and bathing from the rest of the tribe.

He worked his way down, the soapy water appealingly running down the cut lines between his abs and his groin.  She didn’t believe in the Sun God or really even in the All-Mother of her tribe, but if anyone was a manifestation of the Sun God, it would be him.

The huntress felt the deep thrill from her center between her legs again as he methodically worked soap around his lower abdomen and manhood and splashed himself clean.  She wondered what it would feel like and imagined taking it between her own hands or even what it would feel like between her legs.  She was so turned on by this thought that she almost tempted to slip her fingers down into her own trousers as she had before by herself when she was alone on the road and needing release.  But the spell was mercifully broken when Nil then finished with a final rinse and he carefully walked out of the stream.  He wrapped a section of clean cloth around his waist and proceeded to dry himself.  Then he took the remainder of the soaproot and applied it to his dirty clothes, washing them and scouring out the dirt with a flat river stone. 

She took that as her signal to withdraw while his attention was on his clothes.  She carried the young boar carcass back to the nearby campfire by the Charger herd and set to butchering it for their evening meal.  Nil walked into camp presently, still shirtless with just the cloth around his waist carrying his still wet clothes.  She smiled at him in greeting, hoping she was still not blushing as obviously as she had been just minutes before.  He hung the wet clothes to dry in the late afternoon sun. The huntress had just finished seasoning the boar meat and putting the skewers over the fire as she had decided on sun-seared ribs as their dinner as he approached.

“All clean,” he said proudly. “I feel much better, just a little bit of a headache still.  And some mild dizziness climbing down the mesa. But my head feels clear otherwise.  Care to have a look at the wound on my back?”

“Of…of course,” she said with the slightest stammer as he turned around in front of her so she could inspect the incision.  She could smell his fresh, clean masculine scent as she looked at the deliciously taut muscles of his back. 

“Looks very clean so far, not much redness, just a little discharge, good good…” she said, trying her best to sound businesslike and willing herself to concentrate on the task and not on his body just inches from her only covered by a length of thin cloth.  She applied a fresh bandage and carefully wound the wrap over his lower torso.  “You may only need a bandage another few days if it stays free of infection. Should be healed in a few weeks.”

“All thanks to you,” he said fondly as he turned back around to face her. 

“Oh, I don’t think you’d want to thank me for these bruises,” she laughed as she touched his chest where one of the arrows had hit him.  He playfully winced and chuckled too but as he looked down at her, he saw something new in her green eyes as she gazed up at him.  Something he had never seen directed at him before by anyone, let alone her.  Was it want?  Maybe desire?  He wasn’t sure. 

A few seconds passed and he noticed she had not quite moved her hand from his chest.  Standing there in a cloth sheet, this could go extremely well for him…or extremely badly if he misinterpreted her touch.  It had been only a day since he had stalked her on top of the mesa with full intent on fighting her to the death.  He wasn’t exactly sure what had changed in the Nora, welcome change that it was.  But he played it safe and took a step back from her as he turned to get a clean light tunic and trousers from his pack.

“Right…well, let me get back to the food.  It’s not turkey, I promise!” she said artificially brightly, slightly bothered Nil had not responded more to what amounted to the first flirtacious moment of her life.   She went back to the fire as he changed and soon brought over chargrilled ribs with root vegetables wrapped in leaves cooked in the coals.  They ate the first substantial meal he had eaten in weeks sitting next to each other at the fire.  His headache was finally dissipating, a beautiful young woman had hunted and cooked him one of his favorite meals, he was healing.  He felt…free. 

“The warm jungle air.  The sunset.  The sound of birds.  A delicious hot meal.  No other cares in the world…at least right now.  Just the two of us hunters enjoying a fine evening. These little moments are refreshing, aren’t they?” Nil mused between bites of grilled pork ribs.

“That could be the least creepy thing you’ve ever said to me,” she replied, slightly impressed.

“Like that glimpse of yourself in their eyes just as the cloud of death passes over them…” he said teasingly, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Never mind, there it goes,” she smirked right back.  Still a killer apparently.  Just maybe not quite as unhinged.  But she had a thought.  “You know, Nil, if you get tired of bandits, there’s a group called the Eclipse…”

“That’s a political situation,” he frowned. 

“They’re murderers and they are raising an army of machines!  That’s a little more than politics,” she replied. 

“Don’t hate me for being single minded.  Besides…I wouldn’t bet on how long the Shadow Carja are going to last, especially if you’re in for the kill,” he said pointedly. She sighed.  She knew the conversation they needed to have was looming. She was dreading it, but here it was.

“Nil, I have to leave very soon again,” she said carefully, knowing this would be hard for him to understand.  The difference was now she was feeling that ache of missing him soon now too.  She saw him grimace slightly, but she continued.  “And it’s the Eclipse I’ll be dealing with.  This is a threat to not just Meridian, not just Avad, not just the Sundom, but to everyone…I can’t ask you to go with me when I need to leave.  It’s risky and besides, you need at least a week or two to heal up and get your strength back.  And make sure the last of the poison is out of your system. 

“But I know the Eclipse will likely try to attack the capital at some point.  Likely soon.  Please hear me out.  It's not as simple as the Shadow Carja just wanting to overthrow Avad.  It's something that threatens us all.  I don't have all the answers quite yet.  But when the time comes, I’ll need all the help I can get.  Can I at least ask you to stay in the vicinity of Meridian for when I come back?”

He was silent for a time and looked down.  He had known their separation was coming again soon.  He had hoped they had more time together.  But that was part of why he admired her so greatly:  her dedication and her iron will to the cause.  As for Nil, his debt was paid now.  The bandit threat was gone.  He was a free man.  He could do as he pleased.  He could stay within the Sundom.  Or he could seek new fortune elsewhere if he so chose.

But even though he did not want to be beholden to the crown of his birth or any other damn empire, what she described seemed bigger than all of what he had lived through. She saved him at a moment yesterday when he was dangerous and worthy of death.  Above all, he had to trust her judgement on this.  He sighed and looked long towards the sun on the horizon, which was now setting in the west.  He leaned forward and clutched her right hand in his own and looked her into her eyes again with all his ferocious intensity.

“I think I understand now that your enemies are my enemies, huntress.  I will do anything for you. I would follow you to the ends of the earth and beyond.  But for now, I will do as you say.  And when the Eclipse come for Meridian, I vow I will be there,” he promised quietly.

She leaned forward in the dying light, touching her forehead to his like she had done the night before as he lay sleeping.

"Thank you..." she whispered.

Chapter Text

After eating a heavy meal and still on a sleep deficit, Nil wanted to get to sleep early and the huntress agreed.  She had a busy travel day herself the next day and she herself wanted to be well rested after the rough night previously.  He felt better overall, but she had him take one final dose of corruption antidote potion before turning in so he could rest.  As he slept into the evening hours, she busied herself retrieving the rest of their supplies from the top of the nearby mesa and packing her things for leaving first thing in the morning.  She set up her bedroll next to his, ostensibly to keep watch on his condition (he twitched slightly but otherwise seemed normal), but she lay down to sleep herself within an hour, now content that he had gotten through the worst of it.

She woke just after dawn again.  She tended to sleep on her side turned away from the fire in the more tropical places she traveled as the campfires tended to be more for driving away biting insects away than keeping warm.  She had just opened her eyes to get up when she noticed Nil’s muscular forearm and hand draped lazily across her hips and stomach.  She didn’t move.  She just stayed put for a few extra minutes as she heard his slow breaths rise and fall tranquilly behind her, still getting used to the sensation of sleeping with someone in such close proximity.  She never had to share a sleeping space with lots of boisterous siblings, so it was a bit odd.  She wondered if Nil had brothers or sisters.  She realized then she knew nothing about his family.  Granted, she had shared very little about hers.  She figured he was likely used to sleeping in the company of other men in the military. 

This got her thinking if he had been with many other women.  Or men perhaps since finding out from Janeva at Sunstone Rock that the Carja military didn’t allow women?  He was very handsome.  Magnetic almost.  But how many stayed around once he started talking like he tended to speak with her?  Or before he indulged in his favorite pastime of murder for sport?  He could be…well…a lot.  There was still much to discover about this mysterious man.  If they were both alive to do so once everything came to a head.

As comforting and pleasant as this was to lie with him in this half sort of hug, she realized she needed to get going.  She very carefully tried to bend around his arm to get up when she felt his hand and arm tense.

“Stay.”

More of a command than a request, she stopped and eased herself back down to the ground.  He was considerably taller than her and he scooted the full length of his body right behind her, closing the gap that there was.  He clutched her more firmly from behind, almost possessively in anticipation of her absence, and she had to control a sense of unease as she was not used to this.

It was not…unpleasant.  In fact, she felt that thrill at her center again as she thought she felt his hardened length through his pants on her ass as he lay directly behind her.  She tried to control her own breathing, but she could feel his had sped up too, right on the back of her neck. It was like the very moment before a fire arrow caught its target ablaze. They were both silent and still for what seemed an eternity, waiting for the other’s reaction in what was new for both of them. 

He was unequivocably wanting more but would not force her. But with even as little experience as she had, she knew it would be a dangerous game with him and once they started down this road, she knew there was likely no stopping.  It would take him just a split second to roll right on top of her if she allowed it and all would be lost.  She had to focus on the mission.

It took all her willpower to lift up his arm up as she slipped out from under him and stood up. 

“Nil, I’m sorry…I have to go,” she said kindly but firmly as she put a hand on his shoulder. 

His look back at her was a mixture of desire and frustration.  He couldn’t quite keep a disappointed sigh to himself as that had been absolute heaven to hold this brilliant woman in his unworthy arms just a few minutes.  But he wouldn’t harangue her or make her feel bad.  He knew that his role in this drama was small in comparison and waiting until she was ready would make it all the sweeter. 

He nodded, dressed for the first time in several days in his regular armor, and helped her pack her things.  She left him the food save a few bites of grilled pork and vegetables from the previous night so he could rest up before needing to hunt. She called a Charger from the nearby herd.  He touched it admiringly while she prepared to mount up.

“Hmmm…I think I like these even more than the Striders.  You’ll definitely have to teach me how to ride soon,” Nil said with a grin as he gave it a final pat.

“You got it!  I’ll be back to Meridian as soon as I can,” she said as she climbed on the machine.  She gave his shoulder a squeeze. She signaled the Charger to a walk.

“Be careful, huntress,” he waved sadly, his heart catching in his throat as she got about fifty paces away.  This would be hard.  But he knew this time she’d come back to him.  He would make his own preparations as best as he could and support her efforts in whatever needed to happen.  He turned around once she passed out of sight and started to walk back to camp. But he soon heard hoofbeats rapidly approaching again behind him.

“Nil, wait!”

He looked around up at her, wondering if she had forgotten something back at camp.  She cantered right up to him, leaned over from atop the Charger to grab him by the red scarf, and kissed him hard right on the mouth.  His vision almost swam, he couldn’t believe it.  He kissed her back, exploring where to put his face and hands as she practically attacked him with lips and teeth.  He moaned as he ran his fingers through her hair while she bit at his neck. The unexpected movement made the Charger’s gyroscopic sensors whir and it swayed and snorted in protest. They both pulled back a moment and looked at each other laughing and breathless.

“Hey, come here,” he said softly. He touched his forehead to hers as she leaned back down to him.  They stayed that way for a moment, reflecting on what had just happened.  He then closed his lips and gave her a softer kiss on her mouth with a hint of a nip at the end.  He leaned back and grinned.

“Now get on then!  Or I’ll never let you go!” Nil laughed as he clapped the Charger on its metal rump.  Flushed and beautiful, she just threw a wicked smile at him and galloped off.

His heart still ached more than ever from her departure, but he felt better knowing there was a plan and that while no promises were made, she had made her intentions known.  He stayed another day and night at their campfire until he felt strong enough, but then headed west to Sunstone Rock.  He wanted to inform Janeva that his service for the crown was done with the last of the bandit camps falling to their blades and bows.

Janeva’s eyebrows quirked when he said “their” and he explained that he had help from a Nora woman who was his partner.  Janeva picked up the significance of his use of “partner” and remembered talking to the red-haired huntress, liking her very much when they had been previously acquainted.  Janeva hoped that the man now known as Nil could earn some peace.  Nil also explained the upcoming threat from the Eclipse to Meridian, though he did not know the details.  Janeva promised solidarity if needed for this particular fight.

Next he turned back to Meridian.  With papers signed by Janeva stating his release and completion of his mission, he presented them to the hall of justice, where he was declared officially a free man.  They gave him an additional purse of metal shards as a bonus for such a thorough job.  He repaired and upgraded his armor and weapons from the merchants in Meridian with the extra shards so they would be in top form.  The Voice of Our Teeth never looked so good.

He even visited his parents, who were surprised but overjoyed to see him show up at their door as he had been but a teenager when he left and it had been almost three years since they last saw him at his hearing.  They cleared out his old room for him to use as he liked, but he didn’t stay often.  Meridian was loud and he found that he preferred the quiet of the forest to camp in to come and go as he liked.  He did however eat dinner with them several times a week as his mother in particular was alarmed with how thin he was and vowed to fatten him up properly after years of military, prison, and camp food, which mostly consisted of some variation of lean wild game on a spit.  During the dinners, he updated them on all the things he’d been up to during the Red Raids through his latest adventures partnered with a Nora huntress clearing the Sundom and beyond of bandit camps.

“A Nora huntress, you say?” Ligan asked.  “How fascinating! I never had much interest going into the Savage Lands on hunting contracts.  But having met one myself recently, I realize now I may have been wrong about them.”

“Sacred Lands, father,” Nil replied smoothly.  “The Nora are good people. A strong people.  It is a travesty what happened in the Red Raids.  I’ll forever regret being a part of that.  My partner is…truly one of a kind.”

His parents exchanged a look. Partner?

“Hunting partner, dear?” asked his mother attempting to sound casual.

“Uh…something like that,” Nil stammered slightly, color rising to his cheeks thinking back to the goodbye his “partner” gave him just a week earlier. They exchanged another knowing look and smiled.  They had given up all hope of romance and marriage for their only son, particularly after his prison sentence. Just knowing someone made him blush a bit was enough to make them happy. If only they had known just then who this mysterious huntress was.

One evening nearly a month after his return to Meridian, Nil stopped by a tavern.  As he ate, he saw a group of about a dozen or so Nora outlanders enter and sit at a long table.  He had not seen any in some time and was curious if they had seen the huntress before their arrival into the city.  He greeted them and paid for a round of their drinks.

“Too bad Erend’s not with us, he’d like you already!” said one of the younger men around Nil’s age who seemed to be a leader within the group.

Erend…?  Erend Vanguardsmen?  I doubt it… he chuckled to himself darkly but still raised his glass and introduced himself to the Brave, whose name was Varl.  Varl then pointed out the names of some of the members of the group, none which particularly stood out to Nil except a handsome older woman who had a distinct taciturn presence.

“This is Sona, War-Chief of the Nora Tribe.  And…she’s my mother,” Varl grinned.

“She’s the…War-Chief?” Nil’s blood turned cold as Varl and the others nodded.  He realized who she was: one of his very first assassination targets.  Nil had killed her mate, who was also likely Varl’s father.   

“Ah…very good.  Well met, ma’am.  Your people are brave and capable warriors.”   

Sona pursed her lips and gave the Carja an imperious nod, not recognizing him except as a generic former Carja soldier based on his armor. Nil decided to change the subject.

“So I’m looking for someone.  A Nora huntress. She’s a…uh…hunting partner of mine.  Since you all come from the same homeland, I was wondering if you’d seen her.” 

“There aren’t a lot of Nora that come to the Sundom still, for obvious reasons,” Varl said, lifting an eyebrow.  “The most recent visitors are right here.  But if she’s who I’m thinking of, she’s pretty hard to mistake.”

Nil gave a description of her to the Nora, not able to keep the admiration from his voice.

“That’s got to be Aloy, the Anointed!” exclaimed another Nora man named Teb.  The others nodded all around the table excitedly with stars in their eyes.

Aloy.  Aloy… he ran the name over in his mind over and over like a song lyric. 

“Sounds like Aloy for sure,” Varl said with a fond, wistful look that Nil instantly noticed.  “We last saw her back in the Sacred Lands very recently.  General Helis and the Eclipse tried to kill her in the Sun-Ring.  But she escaped, so Helis sent their new machines into the Embrace to wipe out the Nora in retribution.  But the machines he sent are far worse than just Corruptors.  They were called Deathbringers and she came to save the last of us as we had to retreat to All-Mother Mountain. 

“Aloy helped us fight back and we pushed them out for now.  But Aloy said the Eclipse would return to attack, but if as many of us could fight to defend Meridian, hopefully we can destroy this threat for good.  I won’t lie to you, Carja…this fight will be brutal.  With the Eclipse, Deathbringers, the other corrupted machines?  The odds are nearly impossible.  But we are all we’ve got. And we all have to help Aloy to give her a fighting chance.”

He gestured to the group and the others nodded again solemnly.  They were with her to the end.  Nil’s heart soared at the tales of her bravery, but he was rightfully worried at the mention of Helis.  He knew exactly how dangerous the Terror of the Sun was and bristled when listening to Varl’s words.  He found himself touching the handle of the knife on his right hip.  But she sounded alive and safe for now.  He thanked them all for coming and bought them all another round courtesy of the crown’s shards before taking his leave.

The next day, Nil’s patience was finally rewarded.  The rumors were that Aloy had arrived to the city, but she had gone straight to the palace to advise the Sun-King.  He truly hoped Avad would take her very seriously.  He knew after meeting with Avad, Marad, and the captain of the city guard to plan the defense of the city, she would have many people to check in with, so he waited patiently by the river by the city limits knowing she would want to inspect the ground level preparations.

He heard her approach after she spoke with Janeva, who gave him a nod as well earlier.  As she walked towards him, two city guards loitering near the river saw him as well.

“Isn’t that him?  From the Battle of the Daunt?” one whispered loudly.

“Can’t be.  Cinnabar Sands was before that and there were no survivors,” replied the other, thinking they were not overheard.

“Well…I don’t like to boast…” drawled Nil as he turned around with a smirk.

“O Sun! Keep the Glinting Shadow from falling upon me!” yelped the first guard.  Nil just chuckled.  It was nice to still be appreciated for one’s talents.

The huntress gave the guards a pointed “get lost” look.  They scampered away back towards the city center.

“Nil…” she said, clearly pleased to see him, but he could hear the exhaustion in her voice.  She wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug.  She was tired and worn out from her journey back in addition to the meetings and preparations with her allies.  He on the other hand was clear-eyed, well rested, and had gained at least ten pounds back since being out of the jungle for the last month. His armor was clean, and he had freshly trimmed up his goatee and hair in preparation.  She had never seen him look so…good.  And whole. 

“Aloy…” he said with a satisfied purr as he let her go.  She nearly shivered with pleasure as she realized he had finally used her given name. Her eyebrow quirked upwards in question how he had learned it. He smiled when he saw that effect he had on her.

“Your Nora friends told me your name. I said hair like a splash of blood, tenacious as a Scrapper’s jaws.  And they told me about your exploits and victories.  Very impressive, of course.  I can see a bit now how important you are, but I feel it’s still only a small fraction of the whole truth.  And how I was…well…foolish to say the least to want to keep you all to myself. Your light burns so bright, it’s impossible for others not to notice.  I’ve seen that now,” he said looking abashed, yet feeling proud of her.  She was slightly embarrassed at the praise and glanced away.  He paused for a few moments and continued.

“A duel is such a fleeting joy.  If one of us had ended the other, we’d have missed all this.  The wait before blood is shed, like the scrape of a blade across your teeth…” he said, clearly excited after a month’s rest and at the prospect for his first real battle in at least three years. She gave a little sigh.  Some things never change…

“Well, you’re needed.  This battle will be hard,” she said.

“Hard?  I was assured the odds would be near impossible,” Nil huffed with amusement.

“And you signed up anyway?” she quipped.

“Impossible odds, fine company, killing without consequence? How could I resist?” he flashed his most winning smile.  “I don’t care for fighting machines…but I hear these ones are demons.  That’s exciting!”

“Yes, that will be part of it.  I already spoke with General Uthid about the lower defenses.  He’s in charge of our forces.  He remembers you apparently and says to report to him at the Ridge when the attack comes.  But for now…we wait,” she said, exhaling a deep breath.

“General Uthid?  Excellent, he’s a good man.  Do you have anything else to attend to, Aloy? I am at your service,” he said with a bow and a flourish.

“The Carja noble bowing to the Nora savage?  Interesting…” she said with a chuckle.  “But no…I have spoken with everyone I needed to.  Marad told me I should get some rest.  As if I’d know how to rest right now.  I feel totally wound up and unprepared, even though I don’t really have much else to do.  It’s not even dark.  We’ve wiped out bandit camps.  And I’ve fought other places.  Machine cauldrons.  Eclipse bases of operation.  But why do I feel such a sense of dread this time?  What do you even do before a huge battle, Nil?”

“Well, I agree with rest, but food is usually a good start too.  You won’t necessarily have time to eat once fighting begins. And there’s no guarantee when it will be available again depending on how things go,” he said.

“Sounds good, Marad gave me a private place to stay,” she agreed. “I need some time to just clear my head for a bit. We can get food when we get there.”

“Very well, lead the way, Aloy,” he said, just glad to be included.

Chapter Text

Aloy and Nil walked into Meridian proper together and he was immediately struck by how everyone acted around her.  They did not want to draw too many eyes, but that was nearly impossible. City guards snapped to attention.  Vendors and merchants practically threw themselves at her to have the honor of her using their wares.  The townspeople milling about gasped and whispered as they walked past.  It was not totally unexpected, but it was of stark contrast when Nil wandered the city.  Some merchants would not even sell to him based on reputation alone.  He grudgingly accepted this and spent his shards elsewhere.  But with Aloy, it was very different. 

They stopped at a food cart for a light dinner.  Her nerves before the battle were too thin for a heavy meal, so the vendor fell all over herself to give her a complimentary plate of olives, corn grits with goat cheese, maizebread, smoked boar sausage, and pickled vegetables. All free of charge for the defender of Meridian.  Aloy still insisted on paying her a hundred shards and the woman looked like she had been blessed by the king himself.

They dodged the rest of the townspeople carrying the platter of food and Aloy led him up to the door of Olin’s apartment by the hand.  Nil immediately pulled her through the door and pinned her to the wall of the staircase looking quite predatory while she tried to hold the platter.  He lowered his head and kissed her neck as she palmed his muscular back and ass with her free hand.

“Nil, don’t spill our food!” she teased as she pulled back for a moment.

“Ah, huntress, I’ve wanted to do that for the last month.  Or longer if I’m honest.  But you’re right,” he grinned with mischief and kissed her mouth more gently. Then he became more serious. “Tonight is about you, Aloy. So, yes, let’s go eat.”

They sat in the apartment and ate the food.  Aloy did so sparingly, but it at least settled her nerves. She told him for the first time where she had been the last few weeks.  She spared him some of the details that would be difficult to understand without an exhaustive explanation, but she described the link between the Eclipse and HADES.  He marveled at her and wondered how many people actually knew the extent of her missions.  Did Avad and Marad?  Did the Nora or the Oseram? Somehow, he doubted it. She still seemed to keep a lot close to the chest. 

“So Nil…what exactly did you mean by you saying tonight is about me?” asked Aloy curiously.

“Well, sounds like we need you hale and hearty to defeat the Eclipse including Helis, plus this HADES threat.  You’ve been running ragged for weeks and need to rest. My job tonight is to help you de-stress and take some time for yourself. Most importantly, not let anyone else bother you or interfere before they call us to our stations.  You asked earlier what else soldiers tend to do before a major battle.  That depends.  Everyone is different.  Now that you ate a bit, what else do you want to do?”

“Have a bath,” she said after considering for a moment. “Other than a quick dip in the hot springs by All-Mother Mountain before I left Nora territory, I have hardly gotten to moment to relax.  The Nora often enjoy the springs or a bracing plunge in a cool stream.  Getting out of my armor for a nice hot soak sounds so relaxing.  I found out this apartment has a marvelous bathing system.”

“An excellent idea.  And by the way, this Shield Weaver armor you just got is really something,” he said, examining the plates.  “Old world tech, you said?  Remind me to tell you about a special armor I had once.  I think you would have liked it a lot.”

“Hmmph…forget the armor for now.  Let’s go try out that bath,” she smiled.

“One more thing, Aloy,” Nil said, looking at her gently but seriously with his full attention. “I may not be the best at flowery speeches, but I meant what I said. This night is for you and your needs.  Now that we’ve…well…broken the ice a bit with our feelings for each other, I do want to go further down that road.  But I also understand that this battle threatens us all and we’re not promised tomorrow. 

“It’s already been the joy of my life to fight with you these many months.  You were a light when I was in a very, very dark place.  It is my honor to stand with you again and I hope with all my heart we make it out the other side.  But if I fall somehow…I want you to know that I will have died happy giving my life for your cause.  At first when I met you, my thoughts were clouded.  I wasn’t sure if you were my salvation or damnation, but now I can die happy knowing for sure you are the best thing that has ever happened to me.  So I’ll follow your lead with whatever you’re comfortable with tonight.”

He took her hand and brushed his lips just above her knuckles. Her eyes started to brim with tears, but she nodded and murmured a silent thank you. All the emotion and stress of the mission was finally coming to a head and yet they could still have these moments together. She had never been so genuinely touched, let alone by such an enigmatic wonder like him, who was so similar to her in so many ways but different in others.  She didn’t know what to say so she just leaned forward to touch his forehead with hers, letting the tears silently fall for a moment.  She pulled back and wiped them.  She gave him a brave smile and stood up, drawing him up as well to go find the bath.

The bath itself was private within Olin’s quarters and the wooden tub was heated with an interesting mechanism that appeared of Oseram make. Instead of household members or servants having to haul heated water with buckets, which could be quite the chore, the wooden tub was connected via a series of tubes to a small, woodfired furnace that was already stoked with firewood.  It heated the pipes and circulated warm water continually into the tub. It was also well stocked with scented soaps and oils and large cotton sheets to be used as towels. A chair was nearby. The bathroom was warm and a bit steamy, but not overly hot.  She would have to thank Marad later for the amenities.

Aloy dipped her hand in the gently swirling water, “Feels about right.”

“I bathed right before you arrived by the river, but I want you to enjoy this.  It is pretty warm in here though. I’ll take off a few of my clothes if that is okay,” Nil asked as he started to remove his armor, headdress, and boots. “Want me to turn around while you disrobe?”

“No.  Stay.”

He didn’t quite know what he expected, but the words from her command practically hit him right in the groin.  It finally dawned on him that he was about to see this goddess on earth in her most natural form.  It almost overwhelmed him at what could happen next. 

“Aloy, I must ask…have you…have you ever…” he trailed off, his voice husky and thick.

“Ever what?” she said slightly teasing him, knowing what he was trying to ask.

“Ever done this before.  With another person.  Any of this.  Because…because I have not,” he blushed a rare blush. He looked down at the ground a bit embarrassed.  “And I want to follow your lead so I get it right.”

Aloy tried to control the surprise on her face but was mostly unsuccessful. 

“Wait…never? You’ve…never…uh…made love to anyone else?” she asked.

“No.”

It was such a soft and reverent reply, full of meaning for her.

“But…you’re…well, like…really…I mean, look at you!” she exclaimed while gesturing at him with her hands.  His tall, lean body, broad shoulders, strong arms, and handsome face were now back nearly as on display as they had been last month at the stream in the Jewel when she had watched him.  This time, he was still wearing his trousers, but he was far closer to her to appreciate firsthand.

He laughed, “I haven’t had many friends, Aloy.  Let alone lovers.  Almost everyone runs well away from me with…well…how I am.  That was even before my reputation as a highly trained Kestrel assassin.  As a teenager, I was considered rather…odd.  Too studious, too solitary.  Too fascinated by violence, though obviously the military didn't seem to mind at all. I came from a noble family, but I preferred hunting in the woods to political games at court.  Not much has changed.  I somehow think you may understand this.  But remember the kiss you gave me last month?  The one right before you left on the Charger?  That was the first time for me for that as well.”

She was shocked.  She didn’t know what to say for a moment.

“Well…me too,” she finally said quietly. 

Now it was his time to be stunned. 

“Wait, what?” he spluttered. “How is that even possible? I met your Nora friends.  Everyone practically looked at you like you hung the very sun and moon in the sky.  I figured you had no lack of friends and likely lovers too in the Sacred Lands. You’re Aloy, the winner of the Proving, the Seeker, the Anointed.  I heard them talk.  Let alone the fact everyone seems to adore you here in this city too since you've come to save Meridian. I’m half surprised the Sun-King himself hasn’t tried his own suit yet...”

She smirked to herself at his last remark, thinking of the very handsome Avad whose deep, liquid brown eyes that seemed to linger over her with a not quite secret desire for more every time they met.  Avad looked a good bit like Nil, now that she thought about it.  Skin tone was a little darker and olive for Avad. But their eyes were the main difference: quicksilver blue versus molten dark gold.  She had guessed by his speech and manner that Nil likely came from a noble family and he had confirmed it. She briefly wondered if that meant Nil and Avad were related somehow.

Aloy raised her hands again, “Yeah, let’s not go into all that with my titles and whatnot again. They are my friends only very recently. I was raised an outcast.  Yes, I won the Proving, but that was my very first time interacting with people on a large scale.  I was literally a nobody.  No one in the tribe was even allowed to speak to me except for my adoptive father.  That’s also a story for another time, but no…you are my first everything, Nil.”

She glanced up at him, almost worried he’d reject her once he’d learned at least the partial truth of her origins.  He took her gently into his warm, strong arms and stroked her hair. Then he pulled back and looked her right in the eyes.  

“Huntress, I cannot wait to learn everything. Together,” he said so tenderly it made her heart ache. Nearly a year ago, she never would have known this man would have it in him.

“But just to be clear, tonight is just for you,” Nil continued. “The Carja army had a policy of sorts, mostly promoted by Helis.  The night before a battle, we were not supposed to engage in any sort of…activity.  No wives, no lovers, no camp followers.  We were not even supposed to take ourselves in hand.  Not climaxing before a fight was thought to heighten concentration and battle prowess.  Helis was very into that,” scoffed Nil while rolling his eyes.  “It may go some ways explaining why he is like he is.  It was always something I followed out of habit, not really realizing what I was missing.  Even so, as there is a rather important battle likely tomorrow, simply out of habit, I will observe this again.  Moreover, it allows me to focus on you, Aloy.”

She laughed and pulled back, “Can’t argue with that! Here, pull up that chair up to the tub and watch from there.”

He did as he was told and sat in the wooden chair.  Starting with the Shield Weaver armor, she slowly started to remove her clothing.  She had never done anything like this before in front of a man, but as she pulled off her tunic under the armor along with the band that kept her breasts against her chest during heavy activity, she seemed to have an appreciative audience.  Nil was riveted.  From her many freckles and scars to her lean stomach and breasts, he wanted to touch her bare skin so badly he could almost taste it.  He nearly ground his own teeth in anticipation.

Aloy then turned away from him as she slid down her trousers and underclothes, giving him a nice view of her muscular back and ass.  She smiled at him as she climbed in the wooden tub and sat on the interior bench as he remained outside.

“Mmmm…perfect…feels like the hot springs back home,” she said as she acclimated to the water and started to unwrap her braids and set the beads to the side.  Once she was ready, she had Nil pour a nearby pitcher of water carefully on her head to wet her hair.  She applied some scented liquid soap to her hair and asked him to massage it gently.  She practically purred at the sensation of his long, strong fingers working the suds to her scalp.  It was all Nil could do not to hop right into the tub with her, but he settled for another kiss on her neck after helping her rinse off the soap. 

She applied a scented oil as a conditioner to leave in her red mane and took a moment to comb out her hair to dry. She reclined her head back off the end of the tub and he applied a little of the scented oil to his own hands.  He eased out the stress and sore muscles in her neck and shoulders, humming softly as he worked.  He massaged over her forearms and elbows which were sore from archery and climbing.  Once that was done, he could tell she was finally relaxing and even getting perhaps a bit sleepy in the still warm tub.  But he wasn’t done with her yet. 

Nil fetched a cotton sheet to dry her off with gently.  She wrapped it around her torso and took his hand as he led her to the bedroom.  A low bed with red linens was in the center of the room.  He had her lie there on her stomach with one of the red linens covering her lower half as he extinguished off all the lights except the brazier.  Using more of the scented oil, at first he sat off to the side of her on the bed as he rubbed her back and shoulders.  She gave more appreciative low moans as he applied long slow strokes to soothe her overused muscles.  He memorized everything about her as he worked. Every small scar or freckle a testimony to her mastery as a hunter and as a warrior.  He was awed just to be in her presence.

Realizing he was still in his trousers, he slid out of them and remained only in his underclothes.  He then carefully stepped over her back with his knees to straddle her over her hips and continued what he was doing for several minutes. She murmured as he found a spot on her lower back.  He pulled the sheet down a little more and she rolled her hips to allow this.  This was an indescribable feeling: his firm cock grinding up against her bare well-shaped ass with just a thin layer of cloth in between.  He bit his lower lip, trying to control himself and took a deep breath before he asked.

“Aloy…” his voice deep and unfathomable.  She was face down on the bed, but she turned her head to look over her shoulder at him in the firelight.  He looked like he was on the edge of a precipice.

“There’s one more way I can help to…relax you.  But I’ll only proceed if you will allow me to try it.  Do you ever pleasure yourself with your hands?”

She looked at him and nodded.

“Yes. Sometimes when I’m on the road traveling by myself and find it difficult to sleep. I’ve done it a few times the last couple weeks…” she trailed off for a moment. “While I was thinking of you.  Like when you had grabbed me from behind at the campsite.”

Sun-God be merciful.  His already hard cock gave a twitch and he bit his lip again, nearly making it bleed.

“Okay, good.  Since we’re both new at this, tell me if you like something.  If anything I do makes you uncomfortable, you can stop me.  All part of our mutual education.”

She nodded.  With that, he remained straddling her hips but leaned forward til his torso touched her bare back.  His hardness teased her rear as she was under the linen sheet.  With his left arm, he slid his hand under her rib cage to clutch her to him as he started kissing her neck from behind.  His left hand gently cupped each breast, feeling the nipples respond to the touch.  With his right hand, he moved the sheet out of the way and started slowly, ever so slowly grinding his hips forward into her ass so she could feel his length.

She was still laying flat but obliged to lift her own hips slightly off the bed to allow his right hand access to her sex.  He stroked the hair there first with his fingertips, getting acquainted with how he wanted to try touching her while still kissing the back and side of her neck. 

“Is that okay so far?” he murmured in her ear, getting a little breathless but trying to concentrate.

“Mmm…hmmm…”

With that encouragement, he slipped a couple drops of the scented oil from the bath onto his middle fingers and stroked the length of her still closed slit. She moaned quietly, almost more like a sigh.  He pulled himself off her a bit.

“Okay, can you sit up a bit more, like on all fours since you said you liked that with me?”

She did and he realigned himself behind her, finding that a bit more comfortable.  He continued to stroke her length and was rewarded with more access as she gave a slight buck of her hips and spread her knees slightly further apart on the bed.  He gently went deeper with his finger, the discovery of her opening giving him a deep satisfaction. She again responded as he happened to brush past her clit a bit higher up. He took immediate notice and tried a few more preliminary strokes, experimenting with different movements and pressures.

“Show me how you like it.  Tell me too…”

She rebalanced on one arm from her position on all fours, but put her own opposite hand over his, showing him the location and the type of stroke she liked for a few long moments.  He always was a quick learner, so soon she was able to reset herself so he could continue knelt behind her.

“Yessss…good…there…” she murmured. “That’s right.”

Once he found the spot and she groaned as she focused on the feeling of his finger sliding over her now wet clit, he felt her hips tip backwards against him.  He sensed she liked that feeling along with attentions from his hand.  He obliged by again slowly grinding and teasing with his still barely clothed manhood on her ass.  He was himself getting close even hardly clothed and the throb in his cock was nearly unbearable against the friction, but he willed himself to keep on thinking of her first.  Her legs started twitching and he felt her breath hitch.  

“I…I…” she started, barely maintaining a coherent thought. “Right there, don’t stop…”

Nil continued, concentrating on observing her reaction.  She soon bucked backwards once more and groaned in pleasure. He could feel the ring of muscle around her opening start to spasm not far from his finger as he repeated the stroke on her clit she craved. He quickly switched fingers to push one inside while he stroked with the other and felt the contraction of her orgasm to its depth, his own aching hardness just half a hand’s length from her opening. 

“Mmmm…that’s…that’s…just perfect,” she panted as she pitched forwards a few moments later, absolutely spent. 

He slid down to the bed as well right beside her to look in her face. She was beautifully flushed, copper colored hair still damp, and utterly exhausted in the best way.  Ever the eager student, he looked at her expectantly, waiting for feedback.  She rewarded him with a breathy smile and a kiss.  She started to deepen the kiss with her tongue.  She rolled closer to him, still bare breasts brushing his chest, and he felt her hand slowly slip down his abs towards his eager cock.  It was all he could do to pull back gently before he completely lost control. 

“Not…yet…huntress,” he gasped with longing as he stopped her hand’s descent as she bit her own lip looking equal parts curious and mischievous. She then gave him a pouty look and he laughed.

“We need to get some rest.  When this is all over, I promise…I’ll be all yours forever to wear me out however you like.”

Chapter Text

Much of war could be exceedingly tedious for men like Nil.  The traveling, marching, drilling, meetings:  all very dull. But the period right before a battle was some of Nil’s very favorite times as a soldier.  The tension.  The excitement.  The sounds and smells leading up to the confrontation were tantalizing, heating his blood for the main event. Was there ever fear?  Yes, early on.  But a little fear sharpened the heat.  It made the threat real. Kept a warrior from being too complacent.  Fear was what it was like to truly feel alive, dancing so close to death.

And yet a mere three years after his last major military engagements and he woke up earlier than usual and practically nauseous with nerves for the first time ever.  Was it just that he was worried he was out of practice?  No, the bandit camps kept him sharp enough.  He knew the Shadow Carja of the Eclipse well. And there were no lack of corrupted machines in the wilds either and he knew those were on the agenda as well. 

The answer lay next to him sleeping soundly.  He carefully sat up out of bed and looked down at this woman he had shared the night with in the pre-dawn light.  Never in his life had he given more than a thought or two to those he fought with.  It was not exactly selfishness.  He would help a fellow soldier who needed it.  He simply had no connection to them beyond that.  And no doubt likewise with his fellow soldiers, as he was not a popular man other than for his usefulness as a killer.  But Aloy changed all that.

Instead of hopping out of bed to get ready for the fight, he desired absolutely nothing more than to crawl back under the sheets with her.  Or at least kiss her goodbye.  But he wanted to give her all the rest she could have before they inevitably were summoned. 

Nil quietly got up and dressed.  He retrieved his armor and weapons.  He took one last look at her beautiful sleeping form who had responded just a few hours earlier to his touch and his alone. He never would have thought that possible.  It was a power and opportunity he never expected to have.  Mutual desire and longing should have been permanently off limits to someone like him, an soulless killer.  Yet the woman everyone wanted and exalted was with him. 

Was it love?  Maybe.  Probably.  He wasn’t quite sure.  He had nothing to compare it to.  All he knew was that he felt his heart in his throat as he stood on the threshold of the bedroom looking back at her.  He knew he should leave to clear his head and ease his nerves.  If he had time, he’d check back with her later. 

As he walked down the stairs and out into the streets, the sun was just starting to rise in the east.  An auspicious sign?  Hard to say.  As he walked on the cobblestones out towards the Temple of the Sun, he looked out towards the west.  There was an unnatural glow gathering.  He felt a few hairs on the back of his neck rise.  This would be no ordinary fight of warring humans. He could feel it would be mostly machines.  It was time to go.

Nil had been told by Aloy to find Uthid down in Meridian Village.  He hurried down to the ground level and across the bridge.  Other Carja soldiers and guards were there as well, along with a few Oseram and other volunteers.  While he was dressed more as a hunter and less like a Kestrel assassin, some of them gave him long looks and a wide berth.

“Hey look, it’s the Glinting Shadow!” called out one with a grin.

“Ryas?” Nil did a double take and recognized his friend, clasping each other on the shoulder.  “And call me Nil!  Haven’t seen you in almost a year, my friend.  I went back to Sunstone Rock about a month ago.  Janeva said you had been released on your own mission some time earlier.  Glad to see you are looking well.”

“Yes, I got mixed up in some of my own trouble with an Oseram freebooter named Asera.  That’s a story for another time, but if you wish to say hello to my brother, Urid’s over there,” said Ryas, pointing to the older soldier. 

Nil greeted Urid as well and the three chatted for a few moments before they heard the other soldiers snap to attention.

“Well, well, if it isn’t The Arrow of the Sun, Itamen’s Shadow, and the Glinting Shadow all joining us on the same side,” said Uthid with a chuckle as he walked into the circle accompanied by a tall and sharply dressed woman.  “Not a moment too soon.  I am glad you all are here, gentlemen, though I am sorry it is under such circumstances.  First thing’s first:  Ryas, if you will be so kind as to escort the Lady Vanasha here back into the castle and protect the dowager queen and the young prince.  We can assume they will all be targets of the Eclipse.”

Ryas nodded and bowed.  Uthid gave Vanasha’s hands a tight squeeze before they left.  Nil, who normally ignored public displays of affection, felt a slight pressure on his chest of how he realized now he would not be able to speak to Aloy before the fighting started. 

“Urid, Nil, and the rest of you, we’ll be along this stretch of Meridian Village.  Make sure your ammo is plentiful, particularly for machine combat as Aloy warned.  For now, we wait.  Space yourselves accordingly and look sharp.”

Nil found himself standing near Uthid as both watched for movement from the west.

“Sir, I don’t know if you remember me from years ago after the campaigns in the Forbidden West, but it is an honor to stand with you again,” Nil said.

“The honor is mine, Nil.  And you can call me Uthid as like you, I’m not technically employed as a soldier right at the moment. The Sun-King has me as an advisor, but the men keep calling me 'general.'  But I had a feeling back then you would make something of yourself.  Shame how it all turned out for the both of us.  On the wrong side for a little too long.  Me in particular.  But I suppose some things did turn out for the better.  Do I understand you are…with Aloy?  I spoke with her yesterday,” asked Uthid significantly.

A bit surprised at the question and a little unsure how to respond, Nil simply nodded.

“Ah…she’s a fine woman.  A damn fine woman,” replied Uthid.  “A shame I’m not twenty years younger.  Give you a run for your money!”

“Yeah, you and everyone else apparently,” Nil said wryly.  The veteran soldier just laughed.

“But in all seriousness, I can tell she’s very special.  A great fighter, yes, but that’s not all.  Did you know she saved my life?” asked Uthid.

“No, but she has that ability for certain,” smiled Nil.

“Not just in battle, though that too,” Uthid continued as Nil nodded knowingly.  “Between you and me, I had…given up not long ago.  Given up on the ideals of the Carja in Shadow and all that rot that went with it.  Twenty years of service to Jiran and those miserable shits and for what? They try to frame me for an attack on the prince.  On top of several bands of bounty hunters hungry for my head, even that ass Bahavas had come for his victory with my death. And I was all too happy to give it to them.  What was even the purpose of living at that point? Everything that I had fought and bled and killed for was meaningless.

“But Aloy pulled me out of it.  I had known her for maybe five or ten minutes and she had me already convinced of my worth again.  I decided to fight back and she showed me the way.  If not for her and Vanasha…”

The older man trailed off as he kept watch on the western cliffs in the distance.  Nil understood all too well.  Without Aloy, he would have likely been dead himself by now.  Either by his own hand or otherwise. 

“So Vanasha is your wife then?” he asked.

“No, I met her only quite recently.  She’s a magnificent woman herself.  Wife?  Very well could be someday, if we can all make it out alive,” Uthid said as if pondering the possibility of this himself.  “Take it from an old soldier like me.  Don’t waste your life in service without living your own life for yourself.  I gave everything to the Mad King, forsaking love, a wife, family, and all sorts of happiness.  Not that everyone’s life must look the same of course.  But if you love Aloy, like really love her…you may only have a small window.  She’s the kind of woman who is so rare, you may never get a second chance.”

The younger man nodded thoughtfully.  He turned his eyes back to the Palace of the Sun across the river.  Nil caught the gleam of Aloy’s special armor from several hundred meters and noticed she looked like she was watching from on high with Avad.  He was not the religious sort, but he sent an unbidden prayer to whatever gods were listening to protect her. They would all need her by the end.

Just then, a sudden flash of light and the concussive blast of a huge explosion sounded. The ground under their feet in Meridian Village trembled and Nil looked up west to see a large section of rock slide away.  Huge ancient machines came forth along with more familiar Corruptors, Bellowbacks, and others. Deathbringers, Nil thought with slight apprehension, remembering what Varl the Nora Brave had called them.  He had seen the skeletons of what were the Faro Khopesh machines in the Forbidden West, along with the Scarabs and Horus Titans.  He had always wondered what they would look like in action.  They were all about to find out.  He unshouldered his bow and prepared his arrows as the machines lumbered their way down to the city.

He threw a look back towards Aloy and Avad and saw a large chunk of the stone stairway below the platform where they stood had been blown away.  Eclipse fighters scurried out, including a tall figure with dark armor and a huge headdress of red feathers visible even from hundreds of meters.

“Helis!” he yelled at Uthid and the others, pointing at the Shadow Carja general now cutting through the city guards.

“Figures he’d show up like that!  Looks like Aloy is going to handle him,” answered Uthid as he squinted up at the huntress, who had flung herself off the platform and was rappelling down to meet him. “Let’s give these machines some fire before they reach the palace.  I don’t like the looks of those guns on the big ones…”

Nil lost sight of Aloy in the fighting as she confronted Helis. He took down several machines hitting vulnerable spots with his arrows as they headed towards the palace.  But the Deathbringers seemingly had a huge advantage with their armor and kept punishing the Carja and Oseram forces with their arsenal of guns.

“Aim for the leg joints and the cooling rods,” hollered Urid from on down the line.

It had been several long minutes of shooting at the descending machines with no sign of Aloy other than the occasional blast from a blaze container when suddenly someone shouted, “it’s her!”

Nil’s heart leapt as he saw her swiftly ziplining down onto the platforms of the ground level below.  A cheer erupted from both Sun Carja and Oseram alike.  That likely meant Helis was dead.  He could breathe easier for just a few moments as they all tried their best to quell the approach of dozens of corrupted and ancient machines. The Deathbringers fired autonomously on the stone wall of the city over and over but the Oseram cannons answered back.  They had to watch the skies too as Glinthawks and even a Stormbird soared in to cause more destruction. But for now, the defenses seemed to hold.

Suddenly Nil saw an explosion from a Deathbringer’s missile launcher hit the stone bridge arch near Aloy.  The huge red rocks tumbled down on top of where she stood.

“Aloy…ALOY!  NO!” screamed Nil, feeling like his heart was being ripped from his chest in the shock.  He went to run forward as if to abandon his position down across the river to go to her. 

“SOLDIER!” barked Uthid, catching him by the shoulder pauldron, halfway spinning him around.  “You must stay here!”

Nil didn’t even struggle against Uthid but sunk to his hands and knees completely gutted.  A wail of anguish stuck in his throat that he could not even utter. He just panted down in the dirt for a few moments looking up despondently at the pile of large stones where she had been.

“On your feet now, Nil,” Uthid told him not unkindly. “She did her duty.  We have to do ours.”

Nil shut his eyes for a few seconds still breathing hard and then looked back up to the older man and nodded.  Uthid pulled him strongly back up to his feet and clapped him on the back. 

“Good man,” said Uthid swallowing hard, his own voice cracking slightly.  “We keep going.  For Aloy.”

Nil picked up The Voice of Our Teeth from the ground and some more arrows and steeled himself to fight to whatever end.  Even if she was gone, her cause was not and he vowed to see it through.  A never-ending stream of machines seemed to flow down and it was difficult to see through the smoke of the spreading fires in the village, but they all noticed a new Deathbringer dragging a large orb towards the Spire. Was that HADES? thought Nil through his haze of despair, remembering some of the details Aloy had told him.  He hoped her allies at the Spire could put down the threat.  He remained with Uthid and the others, trying to control the invasion by the other machines. 

Nil, Uthid, and a few other Carja soldiers were tangling with a particularly nasty corrupted Longleg amidst the smoke and flames when he felt an arrow buzz past his face and sink into the machine bird’s concussion sacs.  Even in the darkness and smoke, he recognized that arrow fletching anywhere.  He whipped his head around and saw her.  He gasped in awe, momentarily forgetting the rogue machine, then remembering himself, plunged his sword into the machine body further wounding it.

They then both ran at each other then clutched each other. 

“I thought you were dead!” Nil exclaimed, kissing her forehead.

“The arch collapsed around me and knocked me out for a time, but one of the Nora helped me back up. My armor saved me, I’m fine!  I was worried about you too.  I had no idea where you were when I woke up! Glad you are okay in all of this.”

“This?” Nil gestured to the dark sky and fiery flames and scoffed with a smile.  “Not my first firestorm!  It’s depressing…machines fighting wars.”

“Well, Helis is dead.  So now it’s mostly the machines we still have to beat,” Aloy replied earnestly.  Nil nodded, hugging her tightly for a moment but then looked down on her face.

“This is where I belong, Aloy.  But the Spire calls for you,” he said urgently.

“Aloy, go! We’ll draw them!” called Uthid, about to finish off the temporarily stunned Longleg with a hack of his sword.  “Now you face the true Sun, shadow demons!” 

“We all believe in you.  I’ll be waiting here,” he said readying himself once more as he knew she had to leave.  He knew right then he had to tell her how he felt in case the rest of the battle went poorly. “And before you go…I love you.”

Aloy paused, awed by his declaration.  She then grabbed him by the scarf like their first time and gave him a hard, searing kiss amongst the flames.  They touched foreheads briefly and looked at each other, eyes full of meaning and promise.

“And I love you,” she said fiercely before breaking their embrace and sprinting off towards her fate.

He watched her go, his heart once again feeling like it was in his throat.  They continued to do their best to limit the spread of machines towards the Spire.  The buildings in the village continued to burn, but the machines seemed to be thinning out finally. They shifted from shooting at the machines to trying to rescue the townspeople from the fires.

About twenty minutes after she had left, Nil heard another great cheer go up. Along with the rest of the soldiers by the river, he ran across the bridge of the river towards the base of the Spire.  The smoke was starting to dissipate somewhat and for the first time in what seemed like many hours even though it was only mid-morning, the sun began to shine through the clouds.  He saw Aloy lifting up her bow triumphantly, along with her allies Varl and Erend on the top of the mesa. She’s alive.  It is over, Nil thought with elation and relief amid the clapping and yells of encouragement and victory.

She took some time to come down, limping slightly as she did.  Many others met her down at the base of the Spire, including the Sun-King himself and the whole retinue.  Nil held back behind a tree apart from the crowd to let her have this very well-deserved moment.  He knew he only played a small part and didn’t want to inflict himself on her triumph. Everyone cheered again as Avad approached Aloy and lifted her hand with his own in victory.  She smiled and waved again graciously, thanking everyone for their support and help.  She dropped her hand back to her side, but Nil noticed Avad did not let go of hers right away.  Even from a distance, he noticed Avad’s look towards Aloy of equal parts celebration and longing that never left the Carja king’s face.

Suddenly Nil felt a stab of jealousy for the first time.  Sun-King or not, he had no right to hold her hand like this.  In times in the past in his other life, he likely would have let anger or rage take control of him.  Particularly after fighting in a battle where he never got to spill any human blood. But now he ground his teeth and exhaled deeply in satisfaction once he saw Aloy nonchalantly drop Avad’s hand.  Avad made a quick speech and promised that Meridian would heal and rebuild better than ever, all thanks to the savior of the city.

“SAVIOR! SAVIOR! SAVIOR!” chanted the crowd and once again Aloy waved again but looked slightly embarrassed for the attention and begged off from making her own speech.  The people started to dissipate once more they could tell she was done and made to check into their own homes and shops to survey the damage from the flames and the artillery.  Erend as chief of the Vanguard left with the king’s retinue, but Varl stayed with her, warding off any would be straggling fans with a warning look as clearly she needed some rest.  Once the crowd had moved away, he stepped out to join them.  He couldn’t help but give Aloy a gentle hug and he turned to greet Varl. 

“It’s Nil, right? Good to see you again!” Varl said amicably.

“You as well, Varl of the Nora,” said Nil, inclining his head.  “Thank you for fighting alongside Aloy up there. The Carja appreciate you and your people’s help.”

“I know it’s only mid-morning, but I think it’d be good to lay down for a little while,” Aloy said with a bit of a wince and the two men nodded.  She had several bruises and cuts even with her armor that likely needed some attention.  Nil and Varl made an imposing pair escorting her back to Olin’s apartment. 

At the entrance of the apartment stood Blameless Marad waiting for them with an especially inscrutable expression on his face. 

Chapter Text

Blameless Marad bowed in greeting to Aloy, Nil, and Varl in front of the apartment.

“Aloy, congratulations to you and your allies.  The Sundom owes you a debt we can likely never fully repay,” the spymaster said grandly.  “I come here on official business to invite you to a special celebration feast in your honor tonight at the palace hosted by the Sun-King in thanks to all who helped defeat the Eclipse and defended Meridian.”

While Varl looked mildly interested, the looks on the faces of Aloy and Nil were far from enthusiastic.  Even on a good day, a huge party ranked very low on the list of their favorite activities.

“I also come here on not so official business.  More personal council, you could say,” Marad said more quietly and then sighed before beginning again. He looked less than pleased about what had to be discussed. “Can we go inside and speak where it is more private?”

Aloy nodded and then opened the door.  The three men followed her inside.

“Aloy, I know it was a very hard-fought battle and you deserve time to rest.  So I’ll get right to the point,” said Marad.  “I wanted to give you advanced notice so you would be able to act accordingly before tonight, as this will concern you directly.  As part of the festivities, Sun-King Avad is going to publicly ask your permission to officially become your promised suitor.”

Marad looked around, first at Aloy who looked both simultaneously stricken and annoyed.  Then he glanced at the man who now called himself Nil, whose face had hardened into a deadly serious mask.  Marad remembered all too well his many war crimes as he felt the anger rise up from the infamous assassin.  Jealousy perhaps?  Interesting… he thought.  Aloy’s Nora Brave companion simply looked confused.  Marad continued.

“What this means is Avad has decided he will formally ask for your hand in marriage at the feast tonight.  It does not mean you have to be married tonight.  It’s simply a public promise that you will be in the future.  Avad has been told by me and his other advisors for the last two years since he assumed the throne that for stability of the realm, he needs to find a bride and have male heirs to further his line.  Now more than ever, it would strengthen his claim.  Avad and his father share very few traits, but one of those is the ability to be single-mindedly stubborn once they get ideas in their heads.  And this time the idea he has, my dear Nora, is you.”

“Avad seems like a good man, but why me?” she asked. 

“Well, it’s no secret that he greatly admires you. You’re now the Savior of Meridian.  So accomplished as a huntress, warrior, and rider of machines.  Intelligent, bold, beautiful.  You’re certainly his type. What man wouldn’t want a woman like that at his side?” Marad replied smoothly, glancing at both Nil and Varl, who exchanged slightly uncomfortable looks while Aloy blushed rather furiously at the compliments.  “Avad aims to lead the Carja into a brand-new era of reconciliation, trade, technology, and education.  In his mind, what better way to do that than to wed the leader of the Nora, the tribe that was most egregiously wronged by his father?”

“I see…” Aloy said softly, not bothering to correct him that she was not the leader and in fact less than a year ago, had been a total outcast of the tribe.

“That said, I don’t really agree with Avad on this.  And neither do the other advisors.  This is not a slight against you at all.  I’ve actually grown quite fond of you, Aloy,” he said with genuine affection.  “But we believe a strong match with a Carja noblewoman would be in all of our mutual best interest. Some of the nobles still have an affinity for the Shadow Carja.  They would love to see him brought low as the usurper they believe he still is.  So a bride from pure noble Carja stock would be more advantageous politically and solidify his seat.

“In addition, Avad really is a good and honorable man.  A great man, truth be told.  Better than most.  I’ve known him since he was born.  That said, I do not think you would be happy marrying him.  Not so much because of Avad himself, but for the situation.  We Carja have far to go in terms of defining the role of women in power.  Even if he were to make even more sweeping changes, which looks to be the case, I’m afraid you wouldn’t be satisfied here.”

Aloy nodded.  She had more to accomplish with her mission and sitting in a gilded cage would not allow her to complete what she needed to do, no matter how kind and forward thinking her possible royal husband was.

“What are my options, Marad?  I don’t want to hurt him or put him in a bad position, but you are right.  The mission I’m on is bigger than a crown,” she said.

“Well, you could turn him down publicly tonight, but as you say, that would put him in a very bad position.  You could just not show up.  But he would no doubt keep pushing you for an answer, even if you leave Meridian itself.  That would not be ideal for the Sundom either, as the sooner we can get him properly married, the less likely the remnants of the Shadow Carja will start rattling their sabers again.  Or…” Marad looked around at the other two men who had been listening intently. “If you were off the table, so to speak, that would accomplish several things.  He would have a firm answer without losing face and he’d be able to find a suitable bride otherwise.”

“Off the table?” asked Nil with a steely edge in his voice.

“Yeah, what does that mean exactly?” chimed in Varl.

“More plainly, if Aloy was married already by sundown, then by Carja law, obviously Avad could not be her promised suitor.  As long as we tell him before he tries to make an announcement tonight, I’m sure he won’t be…well…happy about it. But he won’t be publicly embarrassed by Aloy telling him no in public. Even if it may be a bit of a blow to his pride privately.  And he’ll be easier to encourage to find a Carja noblewoman if Aloy is not an option,” replied Marad.

“Okay, but that would mean she’d need to be married in the next few hours.  Who would we find to do that?” asked Varl, just slightly oblivious.

“Yes, who indeed?” retorted Nil as Aloy slid her arm behind his back and around his hip.

“Wait…what?  You two are together?” Varl exclaimed.  They both grinned at each other and shrugged.  “Some ‘hunting partners’…why didn’t I think of that back in the Sacred Lands…”

Nil just smiled at Varl’s quip.  He could tell days ago back in the tavern when he first met the handsome, likeable Nora Brave and his tribemates that like many, Varl held a little bit of a candle for the huntress. But he also sensed Varl was a good, honorable man and a fine ally and warrior.  One day he would have to tell him about his father but today was not that day.

“Well, that makes things a bit easier…if they are amenable,” mused Marad.  “My Nora friend, perhaps we should step out for a few moments and allow them to talk.”

Varl agreed and they both walked outside the apartment.  It was the first time Nil and Aloy had been alone since the very early morning when they had both left for the battle.

“Aloy…I…I don’t even know what to say.  I thought I had lost you in the battle and seeing that, I thought I was about to die myself right then.  I never want to lose you again.  I don’t want to force or rush you into anything you don’t want to do.  It seems like you don’t have a lot of options right now.  Personally I’d say screw Avad and all of the rest of the court and just do what you want,” Nil said with a bit of a laugh. 

“But I know how conscientious you are.  And Marad is right.  Avad is not a bad sort.  I’ve known him a bit for many years.  Certainly, an improvement from his father.  He's why my head didn’t end up on a spike nearly three years ago.  Wouldn’t want him to get deposed already after all that work we went through.  You could do worse than be his queen, as much as it pains me to say so.

“But I love you.  Every moment has lead to us finding each other like a knife to its own sheath. I am so new at this, but if you still want me, broken man that I am, I am yours for as long as you’ll have me.”

He knelt to her and bowed his head. Aloy likewise dropped to her knees and picked up his hands in her own. She looked long at him before she replied.

“I know you’re not the same man you were.  I have seen the goodness in you and the kind of man you really are.  Even if you still enjoy a blood-soaked thrill,” she said a bit ruefully.  “But then again, at least I think to some degree…so do I.  Maybe not in the exact same way, but you understand me in ways most people never will.  We were partners in battle.  I want to be your partner moving forward.”  

She pulled his hands towards her and kissed them, callouses, scars, and all.  He smiled at her, thinking how far they had come.  He knew full well that he didn’t even deserve to still be alive.  He knew he would always have a darkness to him, but so did she.  Her light and willingness to not give up on him was his salvation.  And she could be his light to follow to whatever end.

They beckoned Marad and Varl back inside.

“Marad, wait a few more hours as it is only coming up on mid-day.  But yes, we’ll do it,” said Aloy firmly. “As we’ll need a Sun-Priest to make it official, can you request Namman come to us?  I met him some time ago when I first came to Meridian. I don’t think we want to do this inside the city.  It will draw too much attention.  But there’s a mesa with a view of the Spearshafts south of the city.  It’s…a special place to us. It would be perfect.”

“I regret I won’t be able to attend as Meridian and the Sun-King need me. But I’m genuinely happy for you both,” said Marad with a softer look in his eyes than usual.  “I’ll send for Namman the Sun-Priest.  May the Sun light the path for you both.”

He clasped both their shoulders with a smile, then left the apartment.

“So what can I help with?  I don’t know what a Carja wedding entails,” asked Varl.

“We probably should have a few witnesses to this.  Generally, these things are large events, particularly for the nobles. And long too.  Traditionally for high nobles like if a king or prince were to be married, it would start at sunrise and conclude at sunset on the summer solstice. But not always.  As long as we finish the ceremony by sundown, Carja custom should recognize this and not bother Aloy further.  I’d be honored if you’d be there as a representative of Aloy’s people.  If you can, would you be able to pass the word along for a few more people to meet us at the mesa half an hour before sundown? If they are able after the battle this morning?” asked Nil.

“It would of course be my honor,” Varl bowed.

Varl was told to invite several of their friends and family, as well as to summon Teb, and given rough instructions how to find them.  Varl asked if he should ask Erend as well.  Nil gave him an awkward grimace and told him it was likely not a good idea and that as Chief of the Vanguard, he probably should stay with the king.  Varl went along with that and went off to find the other people they requested.

Teb came right away, giving Aloy a warm embrace after she had risen from the pile of stones.  He was told of the news and said he had several hours free to clean and mend Nil’s armor as well as do some embellishment work to Aloy’s Nora Brave armor that he had originally created for her.  She hadn’t worn it in quite some time, but at least it was clean and it didn’t smell of smoke and metalburn.  Teb immediately sped off to the center of Meridian’s vendors and shopkeepers undamaged by the fires to find supplies to work with.

Several hours later after they rested, ate a small meal, and had another bath in the apartment to wash off the stench of the morning battle, Teb returned with both Aloy and Nil’s garments.  She gasped at the sight.  Her Nora Brave armor had brand new glass beading and hand stitched embroidery with a slight Carja flair in its patterns.  She gave Teb another hug, barely able to keep a rare tear from falling with the realization of how much had changed in but in not even a year since they met again.  Aloy would always be fond of the gentle but brave stitcher.

They dressed in their now clean clothing.  Nil looked especially dashing and applied new kohl to his eyelids above his tattoos and asked if Aloy would likewise like to wear the eyeliner.  She agreed and added it to her Seeker face paint. Aloy checked the time and realized they would be running late unless they took her mount.  They walked down past the Royal Maizelands, which was now badly damaged by the destruction from earlier in the morning.  But watching people work together to clear out the rubble from their neighbors, they knew the people of Meridian were strong and would recover.  Aloy whistled once outside the gates and a Charger trotted up obediently, a mechanical snort signaling that it awaited her guidance.

“So after all this time, I finally get to ride?” Nil drawled slyly, clearly also thinking of the upcoming evening following their nuptials. 

“This will have to do…for now,” she smirked at him.  “I’ll be up front, you hang on from behind.”

“Gladly.  I think you like that too…if last night was any indication,” he said as he swung up behind her as he only had done in his wildest dreams.  It was even better than he imagined now that he finally had her here, smelling her warm scent in front of him and clutching at her hips with her back against his chest.  For a moment, he imagined them skipping any kind of ceremony, riding the Charger to places unknown to where no one would bother them, and getting right to consummating their relationship right then and there.  She threw him a mischievous look over her shoulder as she could feel his growing hardness on the back of her ass as he had slid right behind her.

“Just make sure you pay attention.  We don’t have much time for a formal lesson.  Hold me over the hips as best as you can.  We’ll start with a trot.  You’ll kind of bounce a bit, but it’s slower than a canter or a gallop,” Aloy instructed with a smile.

She signaled to her Charger to move into a trot and Nil adjusted to the movement.  She felt him tense but he stayed on sufficiently after a few minutes, so she spurred on the machine to a light canter.  He bounced a bit more behind her, but he kept his seat admirably well for being brand new to riding.  He couldn’t wait until she could hopefully override one just for him but had to admit he loved the intimacy of riding pillion with such a masterful woman.  It was everything he loved about her: finesse, speed, excitement, and a good bit of danger. 

The pair arrived at the foot of the mesa as the Charger slowed to a trot and then a walk.  Everyone invited was waiting for them.  They cheered them as Aloy slid down first from the mount and took Nil’s hand to assist him down as he did the same.  He walked ever so slightly bowlegged at first as the sensation of riding was quite different than he expected.  It used muscles he was not used to even on a fairly short ride, but he had greatly enjoyed it.  

First Aloy waved at Varl, then Talanah and Ligan, her friends from the Hunting Lodge. She saw a stately older woman of above average height standing near Ligan who she surmised was his wife.  To Aloy’s surprise, Nil greeted the old former Hawk and his wife warmly with a hug.  Aloy looked a bit puzzled about how they knew each other as by Nil’s own admission, he did not have many friends.

“We just got word from this Nora warrior here a few hours ago that you going to be married in secret and we had to appear quickly before sundown,” Ligan nodded at Varl.  “At first, we barely believed it.  But we made arrangements to come.  And this is your bride?  Aloy of the Nora?  The Savior of Meridian?  Thrush under the Sunhawk and slayer of Redmaw the Thunderjaw?”

“Sorry, I know she’s not a Carja noble, but…” Nil grinned in half apology and threw his hands up.

“We can forgive you that, son.  We are just happy that you are happy.  But you could not have chosen someone more wonderful,” Ligan said, beaming at Aloy. 

“Son?  Wait…you’re Ligan’s son?” Aloy looked at both men’s silvery blue eyes, tall stature, and Stalker eye tattoos and it then made more sense. She nodded in understanding and greeted her soon to be in-laws warmly.  It occurred to her that in a Nora mating ceremony, the couple’s parents would often be in attendance. As she did not have any natural parents and her adoptive father was dead, it made her a bit melancholy for just a moment, but then she realized she would be getting an additional set of parents, and they seemed to be very fine people.

Nil had turned to greet Ryas, who had arrived after guarding the Sun-King’s half brother Itamen yet again that morning.  He mentioned that his brother Urid as well as Uthid sent their regards, but they were expected to be at the feast soon.

“Hey Thrush, that’s a good point,” Talanah said after walking up to Aloy and giving her a sisterly hug as well.  “Let’s get you two hitched.  Your friend Varl filled us in. We all have to be back at the palace for the celebration feast as to not draw too much suspicion.”

Aloy nodded and hailed Namman the Sun-Priest with a smile, who had been standing nearby as the others had been talking.  He welcomed her in return, happy to assist her in return for the help she provided with the mourning pilgrims when she first ventured into the city.  She herself was skeptical at best about the religion of the Sun but sincerely hoped he would continue his good works for the priesthood in Meridian. 

“Okay everyone, the Sun has less than half a hand’s width left before it disappears under the horizon, so let’s get to it!” he called.  The guests arranged themselves to watch the abbreviated Carja wedding ceremony as the mesas and skies turned beautiful colors in the sunset as perfect backdrop.

Chapter Text

The twilight skies above the Spearshafts were now the color of bruises a few days after a hard-fought battle with pinks and purples ceding to darker blues. The couple said their goodbyes to all in attendance so the guests could make it back for the victory celebration at the palace.  Varl left early to let Marad know the ceremony was concluded and that Avad would have to make other matrimonial plans.  Teb had kindly packed them a few meals he picked up from a variety of Meridian food vendors to enjoy along with some supplies and bedrolls to camp for a few days.  Nil assisted Aloy in climbing up to the top of the mesa as she was a bit tired and sore from the morning’s battle, not to mention the spontaneous emotional decision they had to make for each other that afternoon.  He let her rest as he started the campfire, readied their bedrolls, and prepared to warm up the food. 

The very last of the day’s light disappeared as they sat together on a fallen log eating sun-seared ribs (Nil’s favorite) and maizemeat and staring into the campfire, just enjoying each other’s company and the relative quiet from a long, trying day.

“Aloy…I do feel bad having to rush this whole wedding, but I do not at all regret that we did it,” Nil said breaking the silence.  She nodded and leaned companionably on his shoulder.  “I told you once I never promised you a Carja wedding.  Well, I guess that didn’t turn out quite the way I thought it would.  But I would be lying to you if I said I didn’t wish for this on some level even the very first time we met, even as mixed up as I was. I just never thought I’d be lucky enough to be near you more than once let alone have you for my own.”

“Really? I was rather…well…intrigued by you.  You were the first Carja I ever met.  Which is saying something that I didn’t run you through with my spear at first sight given our tribes’ mutual history.  But my intuition told me you were dangerous.”

“You weren’t wrong,” he said with a smile and a shrug, remembering her brashly approach him having no idea just how dangerous he was the first time they met on the road to the Devil’s Thirst bandit camp.

“Yes, when you killed those two bandits who tried to attack me at the Gatelands camp, I saw the real you.  That you weren’t just all smooth talk and bravado.  It showed me that you are not just a warrior or a soldier or a hunter, though you are those things too.  You are a killer.  The killer who loves the rush of the fight and the blood, even dipping into the sadistic when you feel have to be," Aloy said. 

“And I probably should have run away.  Maybe I would have had my ankle not been hurt,” she gave a short laugh.  “But maybe I have got that in me too, like you always said.  Maybe that’s why I didn’t run.  I also saw the man who can be caring for a fellow hunter with an injury.  And a protector, even though I rarely need protection.  That’s the real you as well.  They are all parts that legitimately make up you.  I never want you to think again that you are just some sharp blade to be wielded at another’s convenience and thrown at an enemy.  You’re an honorable man, Nil.  I want to know even more of you.”

“And I want to know you more, my huntress,” he said, gazing back deeply into her eyes.  The look he gave her then was just as meaningful as the few words and promises Namman the Sun-Priest had them exchange at the base of the mesa an hour earlier. 

He would unequivocably die for her, she knew that now.  That was the risk of love that she could lose him in the upcoming fight, or he may lose her.  But she was finally starting to come to terms with the fact that the risk of loss was part of human experience.  Her losses would always haunt her and she was certain there were more to come.  Maybe she would be the one to fall too. 

But she had just realized after this morning after her allies had ventured far and wide to Meridian past their comfort zones that people actually wanted to help her.  They believed in her.  All despite her eternal curse to want to soldier on alone and not burden others with her obligations. So Aloy’s proverbial armor had just started to crack and it had truly started with this hypnotic man sitting next to her as they had each other under their own spell of madness and blood.

She saw the reflection of the flames in his eyes that mirrored his thoughts and his heart.  He wanted her. To claim her.  To ensure all others would know that he was hers and she was his.  She still didn’t understand the customs of his tribe, but she would learn.  There was no doubt the part of him that was indeed inside her would always be with her, even if he was not by her side.

Nil dipped his head to kiss her firmly.  He was almost gentle at first, but between the morning battle where his bloodlust hadn’t been quite satiated the same way bringing down corrupted bloodless machines and the realization he was finally going to be able to make love with his wife (an almost completely foreign concept in his head before this morning), he quickly became more insistent.

It was going to take all his mastery and control to think back on the lessons he had learned as a teenager to give his lover a pleasurable experience as her new husband.  He may not be perfect, but he was a fast learner.  He started to work lower on her jaw, behind her ear, and the furrow of her neck where just below flowed the lifeforce of her own blood.  He marveled that she trusted even his teeth nipping insistently at her neck. He maintained a barely perceptible hum as he worked around her supple skin, taking in its scent. 

His hands slid down her arms, ended up in her lap, and started to slid up the skin up her top.  Deft calloused hands met her breasts under the leather as she elected not to wear the supportive band she favored in battle to the ceremony.  She gave an amused huff as she was glad she was not wearing a more protective armor than the redecorated set that Teb had finished.  She loosened her top and tossed it over her head and he likewise took off his.  His hands and mouth roamed over her skin, getting used to the feeling.  He dipped his lips to her nipples and felt his blood heat even stronger when he felt them harden as she gave an appreciative moan.  When he was just a little too firm while cupping and squeezing them, she didn’t discourage him, just showed him how to be a little more gentle.  She helped him remove his machine plate bracers, pauldrons, and headdress as he unhooked his armored belt and tassets and slid down his trousers and underclothes, kicking them aside. She removed hers as well, standing before him naked as he was, glad for once for the warm humid air of the Jewel was not making her cold like her native lands would have by this late in the year.

Aloy looked down for the first time at his sizeable manhood, feeling that deep thrill again at her core.  Her naturally inquisitive nature immediately wanted to explore all of him, like he had done to her the night before. They lowered themselves back onto the bedroll on the ground.

“I showed you what I like when I’m alone.  Show me what you like,” Aloy said, eager to touch him.

“Alright…” said Nil, feeling the slightest twinge of self-consciousness as he had never done this in front of anyone before.  “So you can use either hand, I suppose.  It feels much better to use some kind of lubricant and not just your hand.  I usually use saliva when I’m doing it cause it’s convenient. Some men like different kinds of oils from plants.  I don’t do it terribly often, so never put much thought into it.”

“How about this?” Aloy reached over for her pack and brought out a glass jar with a firm whiteish substance in it.  She opened it and took a small amount out.  The substance had a rather exotic but pleasing smell and was solid at first, but soon melted in her hands to a clear oil.  She dripped a small amount into his hand. He ran it between his fingers at first, then applied it to his erect length.  He groaned in approval. 

Nil showed her a few different movements that he tended to favor.  She placed some more oil in her hand and tentatively gave a few strokes.  Fingers and palms that climbed ledges and fought with weapons on a daily basis for survival nearly made him grimace in the strength of her grip (“it’s not a sword!” he gasped with a chuckle at first), but he showed her how to loosen up and he gave her some time to experiment while giving her feedback.  She marveled at the smooth skin of the shaft, thinking already about how it would feel inside her when the time came.  She started to get into a rhythm as she noticed a flush coming up his chest and neck and his feet and calf muscles gave the odd twitch.

“You killed Helis,” he said to her darkly as more of a statement than a question as she continued to grip him sitting beside him.

“Yes,” she said softly after a moment as though this was the first time she had considered it after the long battle. 

“Tell me…everything…” he answered, licking his lips and closing his eyes as if trying desperately to concentrate as he reclined against the side of the log, her hands continued to work on his hard length.

“Hmmm…I met him after rappelling down off the platform.  There were other Eclipse soldiers there, which I killed using few fire arrows to hit Blaze containers plus regular arrows.”

“Go on…” Nil said with an appreciative moan, biting his lower lip.

“Helis appeared and started his usual pontificating about being chosen and his victory being inevitable.  I’m sure you’ve heard it before.  The bridge was threatening to collapse, but I wore him down.  Sometimes with my spear as he had his sword, sometimes with my bow.  In the end as I took his life and had my revenge, he was…pathetic.  Still delusional that he was right all along, even as he was staggering and on his knees in defeat. Used as a pawn by a power he didn’t even understand,” she said.

“How…how…did you kill him?” Nil asked, fighting for control now as his muscular thighs were now starting to spasm as a result of her motions.

“I first stabbed him in the belly with the spear.  I twisted it as I called him a stupid, sadistic butcher, so I know it hurt.  Then I told him to turn his face to the Sun and he fell hard, his blood spattering all over the stones, gasping like a flopping fish,” she said, not able to keep the relish out of her voice even as she stroked him.

“Yessss…that’s my girl,” Nil answered with an almost demonic grin of pride, his eyes still shut.  A few seconds later he felt a brand-new sensation he had never felt before.  Then he snapped open his eyes to a sight he never thought he’d ever see:  Aloy had slid her upper body down to the level of his lap and along with the motions of her hand, she was taking some gentle exploratory licks with her wet tongue right over the head of his already slick cock. 

“By the Sun, woman…I’m almost there…” he breathed raggedly, panting with lust.  With the last bit of control, he put a hand on her shoulder, his nails digging into her skin.  He wasn’t sure if she was aware of what was about to happen.  He had no personal experience with this with a woman, but from his days as a soldier, he’d heard the other men talking about this act being performed on them in a mostly demeaning way.  He didn’t mean for her to ever feel that way.

“A-A-Aloy…you…you don’t…have to…” he shuddered, his climax almost on him.

She pulled back just for a moment and looked up at him, her green eyes fathomless in their intensity in the firelight. 

“But I want to.”

It was then he realized the power she truly had.  It was she who was the predator here.  She then took him further into her mouth as she continued to stroke him, the points of her nipples brushing the tops of his thighs.  He was lost to oblivion in a few moments.  He let out an inhuman half growl half moan, his hips bucking as he came into her mouth.  She did her best to swallow the salty, slightly bitter fluid as he continued to clutch her shoulder.  

Still breathless and twitching as he finally relaxed, he gently eased her off him and pulled her back up to his level leaning against the log.  She cracked a mischievous grin as she tried to wipe the corner of her lips.

“Wait,” he murmured gently, lifting a hand to cup the corner of her jaw.  He leaned forward and kissed her mouth, tasting the remnants of himself and in awe of what she had done for him.  They sat up next to each other against the log facing the fire, Aloy nestled in the crook of his arm and chest as they took a few minutes to rest. 

“So I thought you had not been with anyone.  Where did you learn…all that?” he asked.

“Well, remember when your father mentioned Redmaw the Thunderjaw?  Talanah and I took him down some months back after the Gatelands bandit camp.  Afterwards, we went out to celebrate and well…after a few rounds, we got to talking about...uh…some things.  Probably the first time I ever spoke so frankly with someone about what to do with a lover.  I told her I had never been with anyone before and had never even kissed anyone, but that I had someone in mind.

“She gave me a few pointers that she said may come in handy if I ever got together with…someone.  She didn’t know I meant you though.  Tonight, while you were saying goodbye to your friends and family, Talanah also gave me this jar of oil for us as a gift of sorts.  And some tea to regulate my moon times so as to not get pregnant. She said the oil is pretty rare to come by at the market in Meridian and that many couples use corn oil.  But this comes from the far west from a plant called a coconut?  Doesn’t taste too bad either,” she said with a smile. 

Nil nodded, secretly impressed.  He would have to thank Aloy’s friend someday. 

“Good, because I cannot wait to taste it on you,” as he kissed into her mouth again and started down her jaw and neck as he clutched her to him, his erection already half hard again pressing into her belly.

“Ready for more?” she teased as he paused a moment to place a blanket from the bedroll behind her to lean comfortably against the log.

“Oh yes, yes, yes…that last round just means I now have more control and can take my time on you.  I’ve always said good things come to those who lie in wait,” he looked back into Aloy’s eyes, his own sparkling with both amusement and dark desire.

Chapter Text

Aloy had to laugh a bit.  She appreciated this about Nil.  He could be deadly serious, but he often had a hidden joke or jest right below the surface.  She could be the same.  Sometimes other people didn’t see her humor, especially when she was focused on a particular task or mission.  But he did.  Which was important in the next few minutes with what they were about to embark on.  She had to admit that despite her longing for him, she was a bit nervous.  She had never been like this with anyone and despite a bit of girl talk with Talanah, she didn’t want to disappoint him with her own inexperience.

She was surprised to find how much she enjoyed giving him pleasure.  She was a giving person in general, always happy to save the proverbial kitten stuck up in the tree in a random side quest while the world fell apart around her.  But giving someone she loved and cared for her full attention in such an intimate way was a new but welcome feeling.  Watching his reactions to her new forays into the ways of physical love was deeply satisfying in a way she didn’t expect. It seemed he felt the same.

Nil was a bit nervous too, despite his outward enthusiasm.  He didn’t want to hurt his beloved huntress and he certainly had heard stories that sex could be quite painful for women their first time, even though he knew without a doubt she was certainly the toughest woman he’d ever known.  But her taking major injuries in battle suddenly seemed secondary to him causing her physical pain. He thought back to his lessons as a teenager and he remembered the most important points that were imparted to him if he ever was in a position to be with a maiden for her first time like he was now.   

As they sat against the log in front of the campfire, he started by kissing her neck and moving downwards over her collarbones and shoulders, one leg of his draped casually over hers.  His right free hand roved over all over her bare skin, again palming and more gently massaging her breasts as he found the nipples harden again with his movements.  Her knees were still together just ever so self-consciously as he switched from his hand wandering over her torso to his mouth, licking and lathing all over.  His hand dipped lower.  He cupped and stroked her ass and back of her thighs, still tight from the battle that morning, and marveled at their power.  She murmured appreciatively at his large, strong hands, aware how simultaneously relaxing yet arousing this was.  Aloy rewarded him by opening her knees slightly as she sat to give him access between her legs and he hummed enthusiastically, an eager smile on his lips.

Nil continued his massage around the curve of her hips and inner thighs as he laid half upright next to her to gage her reaction to his attentions.  The pads of his fingers just started to stroke so very gently at the patch of light red hair at the apex of her thighs.  She quivered involuntarily at the touch, now knowing what he was capable of with his hands.  He disengaged briefly and placed a bit of the oil on his fingers, looking at her with a silent question before he continued.  She gave the quietest “oh yes…” and he preceded to part her legs slightly more before moving his hand down to her center. 

Running his middle finger back and forth lengthwise down her folds, he soon found the place again that he had the night before.  Aloy moaned approvingly and soon let her knees fall apart to allow his hands full range of motion.  He again tried a few movements based on her response and with his other hand, he slid a finger into her depths.  She twitched as she got used to the sensation while he continued to stroke her.  He tried a second finger a few moments later and he could feel the muscles tighten at first but then relax as the other hand kept working at her clit.

Nil kept the two fingers inside of her while sliding his upper body downwards.  He traced her lean body down with his lips all the way from her breastbone down her stomach to just above where his two fingers remained inside her core.  She felt very bare and exposed to him, but she could not help but chuckle as he looked up between her legs to give her a mischievous grin right before he licked her there with the flat of his tongue.  She groaned and her thigh muscles shuddered as he continued. 

He kept going, feeling his own arousal fully hard again as he saw directly how he affected her.  Just like him, he knew she could be in her own head sometimes. So he wanted nothing more than for her to surrender to the sensation for her own pleasure.  She stroked his hair and hummed to give him encouragement as she felt the sensation build.  He had felt the tremors in her legs and figured she was fairly close to her own climax, so he slipped in one additional finger.  Her breathing hitched at this as it was nearly uncomfortable, but she focused on the pleasurable feelings his mouth was still making.  It was becoming more difficult for her to put a coherent thought together as he continued.

“Tell me when you’re close, Aloy.  I can either finish you like this or…we can switch off to me,” he said softly after lifting up his head, looking up at her with his own lust roaring back into his firelit eyes at the anticipation.

“I’m ready.  For you.”

His heart nearly burst in ecstasy. He nodded and withdrew himself for a moment as he got a little more oil on his hands.  He had heard that maiden women often bleed their first time, but he noticed none on his fingers so far besides the signs of her arousal and the oil.  But taking things slow seemed to be helping and she seemed more than glad of his attentions.

He applied some more oil to her entrance and she groaned her approval at the feeling of his hands on her again.  Then he dripped some of the oil on his hard, eager length.  He kneeled between her open thighs and took a deep breath to steady himself as he leaned over her and grasped himself at the base of the shaft.  He stroked her folds with the head of his cock, looking pleased as she started to wrap her legs behind his legs and grind with her hips into his movements.  I want her practically begging for me to take her before I will, he thought as he continued to tease her mercilessly, his firm tip rubbing just above where she wanted him.

Nil noticed her breath starting to hitch as if she was close again.  He pulled back just a moment to compose himself as well, as truth be told, he was close himself just stroking along her soft slickness.    

“Tell me what you want, huntress.  Tell me when you’re ready for me.”

“Nil…please…I want you…all of you…” she murmured with lidded eyes, her face flush with desire for him.

He purred darkly and using his hand to guide himself, started to press his hard and hot erection into her waiting entrance below him.  She winced and bit her bottom lip slightly, then her eyes came open, the flashing green meeting the silvery blue above her.

“Stay…stay with me, my love,” he whispered to her as he pushed his hips forward slowly but didn’t thrust.  They both groaned as she took in his length. She was almost panting under him as they got used to the sensation.

“How is it now?” he said it quietly, trying to control every instinct in his heated blood to not go faster, but wanting to make sure she was still comfortable.

“It’s…okay, it doesn’t hurt so much, but you’re just…a lot,” Aloy said breathing heavily.  “But you’re all I want.”

Nil nodded, now rolling his hips forward very slowly for a few moments.  She seemed okay with the motions so he repeated them a little faster.  He was able to lean fully on top of her now as he kept up the motion, kissing her neck and inhaling the scent and pheromones of their lovemaking in the warm night.  He was getting close again, but he sensed she had stalled somewhat as perhaps the spot she liked to be stroked at was not being reached.  Nil wanted to make sure she got her full pleasure first before him.  He pulled back slightly off her.

“Want to try something else?” he inquired.

“Sure…this is very nice, but…maybe from behind?” she asked brightly. 

He agreed and gently withdrew from her.  She leaned forward off the log and switched to being on all fours on the bedroll.  She looked so beautiful to him and yet wanton too, looking back over her shoulder waiting for him, so eager to take him again.  He repositioned himself like he had the night before.  He grasped his cock and again teased her as he hovered behind her.  Once she started grinding her hips and ass against him in enthusiasm, he re-sheathed himself inside her with a moan and started a slow thrust once she seemed ready.  He rebalanced and his right hand snuck down her flank and up between her spread legs, middle finger stroking the place it had found earlier as he rode her from behind.

She cried out, the feeling being so intense from hitting multiple pleasurable spots even better than the previous night now that he was fully inside her.  He wrapped his other hand around her breasts to claim her completely as he thrust his hips and continued to work her clit with his fingers. 

“Yesssss…just like…that…” Aloy crooned to him, feeling her climax build, the rush so intense and inevitable like an avalanche down a mountainside.  He felt her muscles contract hard around his cock as she peaked, as if she was drawing him deeper within herself.  An indescribable sensation, he too was soon lost for the second time that evening a few moments later, calling her name as the heat in his groin surged after a few more thrusts.  He spilled himself inside her as he finished, completely spent.  He stayed clutching her from behind for a few moments as they recovered, his cheek against her back as he could feel the hammer of her heartbeat through her ribs.  

Nil wanted to remember this forever.  No matter what happened to them, he would always have this moment, and he savored it with all of his soul.  With a deep sigh, he then slowly withdrew from her.  They both collapsed down to their respective sides on the bedroll, panting for air and sweating with the exertion. 

They both looked at each other, smiling at what they had done and what it had meant to them both.  He reached over and ran his fingers through her hair, never before being as satisfied and satiated. 

“Nothing compares to that…what we just did. Nothing compares to you,” Nil said, his breathing finally slowing down.  “Not even the bloodiest battle or the best kill. The thrill of you will never die, huntress.”

She scooted closer to him, leaned forward to touch his forehead damp with perspiration with her own, and kissed his mouth gently. 

“I love you too,” Aloy said with a bemused smile as she looked down at his white semen dripping down her inner thighs.  She asked him to hand her a cloth to dab herself dry. 

“No blood?” he observed.

“No, sorry to disappoint…you liking blood so much and all.  You were very gentle.  Didn’t really hurt, more uncomfortable than anything, at least briefly.  Taking your time and going slow really helped.  I wasn’t worried,” she gave him a small fond smile and squeezed his shoulder.

“I was worried actually! It would kill me if I hurt you just for my own pleasure.  But you tasted so good and felt so warm…so right.  Like the spill of hot blood over the hilt of my knife…” Nil started to drawl and involuntarily licked his lips.  She just laughed, gave him a light smack on the chest, and ruffled his hair.

“But I am glad Talanah thought to give you the oil.  Worked really well.  The moon tea too.  Not that I am necessarily against children, but we never did have time to discuss that,” he said thoughtfully. “I never had even dreamed it would be a possibility before you.”

“Yeah…” she said with a sigh, the moment becoming more serious.  “Not sure how I’ll feel in the future.  It may be a long time before that’s even an option, given what may be ahead of us all.”

He nodded silently in understanding.  It was a discussion for another time and all he wanted now was just her.  He tried hard to suppress a sudden yawn.  She looked at the campfire and got up to relieve herself and add another log to keep the biting insects away.  She tidied up the bedroll and slid down next to her handsome but completely drained and very much still naked husband.  He was nearly asleep already, but he wrapped his arms around her from behind, his breathing slow and steady, his masculine scent comforting as she drifted off as well.

The next morning was a little cooler than usual in the Jewel and they stayed under the blankets for longer than typical, enjoying the time to hold each other before rising.  Both Aloy and Nil were still quite tired, so they got up in a leisurely fashion.  They were again grateful for the fruits, bread, and cheeses Teb had packed to break their fast so no hunting or gathering was strictly necessary until later that evening. 

The next few days were a quiet bliss. No interruptions, no random strangers begging for her time or attention, no greater purpose…for the moment.  Aloy removed her Focus except to hunt game with so they would not be interrupted.  No one bothered them on top of the mesa where they slept, talked, and made love.  Meridian was no doubt still recovering, so there were no hunters or travelers passing through.  They bathed in the creek and hunted game down in the jungle. They had some more riding lessons on Aloy’s Charger.  The first of which started innocently enough, but they could not quite keep their hands off each other. Nil ended up being the mount after the two of them slid off the machine and she rode him on the floor of the jungle. 

Nil could still barely believe he was alive and was certain if she had not figured it out, he would have been dead by now.  He felt so much better, and his head was clearer once the corruption poison was out of his system, but truth be told, he had to give a lot of credit to the influence of his huntress.  She was one of the first people in his adult life to ever treat him like a human. He could stay here with her forever if she let him. Or go back with her to her own lands or even further west. He didn't care as long as he was with her.

But after several days, Aloy started to have a growing ache in her chest she just couldn’t shake.  She found out the truth of where she had come from and needed the closure to say goodbye to a part of the past that wasn’t quite hers but that still made up the fibers in her very being.  She needed to venture on to a place only she could go: Elisabet’s family ranch.  And she knew in her heart that she must go alone. 

Aloy explained to him in detail who Elisabet was and how she was related to her.  He was simultaneously surprised, confused, and more than a bit awed by the story of Elisabet Sobeck and Project Zero Dawn. But unlike many who lived in the east, he had seen the ancient battlefields and machines from a millennium ago in the Forbidden West before they made their appearance at the Battle of the Alight. They had always made a strong impression on him, so he took their threat seriously as she told him how the Old Ones finally perished.

Aloy was not sure what she would find, but she promised Nil she would be back as soon as she could. Nil of course wanted to go with her and practically begged her to come with, but she declined with the promise she would be back as soon as possible.  It was just something she absolutely had to do by herself, just like visiting Rost’s grave which she had not been back to in months.

For the first time, he was truly happy with the man he had become.  He had grown.  He was no longer the morose loner with a deficiency in the ability to connect with others and a penchant for violence. He had reconnected with his parents, making them proud.  He learned to even make a few friends and allies.  He had the love of a woman he’d never dreamed he could have. She had truly saved him in ways he could never repay.  But he wasn’t the only one she had saved.  This was her nature to save others, help humanity, and to overcome against all odds.  He had to let her go for the time being.  He promised to stay near Meridian until she returned, hopefully in just a few short weeks. 

But like many things in regards to plans made with Aloy, this was not meant to be…