It was dark when Scorpius located the Scavenger base. They were holed up in a buried stronghold whose tilted left wall peaked from the sand. Unless knowing what to look for, it would be easy to overlook as just another sand hill.

Scorpius flew closer towards it but stopped soon. Somebody was hiding behind the wall, watching for outside threat. It wouldn’t be a wise idea to just pop out in front of him. The man might have a crossbow ready and dodging bolts was a hassle.

Instead, he waited for the man to get comfortable. There was little chance he would fall asleep but nodding off for a time wouldn’t be a surprise. Watching the darkness night after night without anything happening would relax anyone’s guard. He’d seen it happen plenty of times when hunting prior to the destruction. All one needed to succeed was a little bit of patience, and luck.

Around midnight the guard’s watchfulness laxed and Scorpius made his move. His wings made barely any sound as he whisked past and into the building.

Inside he was met by darkness but it posed no problem to him. He produced a soft clicking sound and listened for the echoes to determine his surroundings. Not long after his path was clear.

The building wasn’t as large as he had first thought upon noticing its side peaking from the sand. The whole consisted of only three rooms. Closest to him was a large room with men sleeping in it, there were seven of them which made eight of them in total with the guard. Not a small armed force when you think about it. Within the city, there might be more men in total but none of them were proficient with any weapons.

Opposite that room, was another with thinner and smaller forms sleeping. It had to be the women and children. Nine of them so a bit more than the men but more than half were kids. Very young ones at that. How did they manage to survive? It should have been close to impossible. There were but three children in the survivor camp and that was in contrast to around thirty or so adults.

This puzzled Scorpius but he didn’t waste time trying to work it out. The world had stopped making sense awhile ago.

He flew towards the ajar door in front of him. There was a very small room there with a couple boxes stacked in a corner and an almost empty barrel beside them. A large man snored before them, lying with his feet out the door since he didn’t fit into the small storage space. By his side, a hand’s reach away rested a wicked looking axe. Further back, a longsword.

Someone was prepared for an attack.

No matter.

Shifting into his human form, Scorpius jumped over the man and stepped on his weapon. His weight wouldn’t be enough to stop such a huge man on normal circumstances but he was a nosferatu. The strength he harboured within his average looking body was something no human could compare to.

The bearded man was quick to sense something wrong and instinctively reached for his weapon as his mind cleared the last bits of sleepiness. It was a quick reaction speed but it was too late to do anything. He tugged at the axe but the weapon didn’t move a fraction.

His second thought was to grab the long sword but Scorpius wasn’t having that. He hefted the axe and kicked the long sword a bit further into the room. Out of the man’s easy reach. His opponent quickly grasped that he was outmanoeuvred and decided to use his bull’s strength.

“I don’t think that’s as good idea,” Scorpius whispered to him, dropping the axe and catching the bearded man’s arms. The strength in them was exceptional. For a human. It wouldn’t pose much problem to him on a normal day but now he even had Iago’s blood strengthening his every move.

It was as if he was twice as fast and strong. Every move he made was swifter, more precise and better flowing. There was no other way to describe it. He was like a fish dropped in water after years of being kept alive by having a water filled bag over his face to breathe and being showered from time to time so the skin didn’t dry out.

The feeling was exhilarating beyond words. He wanted to move, dash forward and test his skills. Run, jump and flip over his head just to feel how easy and simple it was. His body thrummed with suppressed power. It wasn’t as noticeable in his bat form but the moment he changed - he couldn’t keep still.

“You’re him!” the man burst out, recognising the voice.

“Yeah!” Scorpius laughed, giddy with energy. His voice was so childish and exuberant, he froze. Was this how he was going to talk this man into following him to the city? Forcefully he squashed his excitement and released the bearded man’s hands. “I’ve come with a request,” he added in a more natural voice.

The scavenger was instantly back on guard. “What do you want?”

“Would you mind going to live among the survivors?”

It was clear his words took the man by surprise. There was no light underground but Scorpius could swear the man gaped at him. The sharp intake of breath was a dead give away. “You can light the torch if you want,” he suggested to the man to wake him up from his stupor.

“No need. You’re mad!” the man shouted out at him right after his mind realigned. He went outside the door by touch and waved for Scorpius to go further. “We have nothing to talk about.”

“But you’re going to die here on your own…” Scorpius said puzzled.

The two boxes at the end of the room were once filled with food. Now there was a single sausage left. It wouldn’t last them a full day and the water in the barrel was enough for three days at most. If they drank bare mouthfuls and didn’t venture outside where the heat was insufferable at day time.

There was genuine anger in the bearded man’s voice when he spoke up again. “Is that why you came? To save us the trouble of dying from hunger by slaughtering us all outside?”

Scorpius staggered in his step, raising his head to stare at the back of the man’s head. “Why would I do that?” He was stumped by the man’s logic. Was there any there to begin with? He couldn’t find a drop of it. “Why would I bother?” he asked again.

His opponent spluttered, bursting into an outraged cry before quickly subsiding. “You’re him… you’re a nosferatu…”

In two heartbeats the guard from the top was next to them with a blazing torch and a naked blade in his right hand. Upon seeing Scorpius he dashed forward, shouting for the bearded man to dodge sideways. Instead the man caught the charging guard’s hand and twisted the blade from his grip.

When the guard stared at him open-mouthed, the bearded man shook his head. “You don’t want to get on his bad side.”

There was a racket in the rooms to the sides. All the shouting woke the sleepers and they were stepping out to peer at the spectacle. Some older voices muttered under their breaths about being woken up in the middle of the night but went to check the trouble none the less.

A child started crying in the next room. It brought a string of curses, this time from the majority of the men. They were sick of the sound at all times of the day.

“Let’s go outside,” the bearded man suggested. After remembering who Scorpius was, his voice became much lower and careful. He didn’t dare to say anything that might anger the stranger.

That reverie, controlled fear was obvious to Scorpius and he sighed internally. This was how life was. No one could look him in the eye and be themselves. Upon learning who he was they either ran away screaming or rushed forward to try and kill him before he had a chance to do so first. Even if he had had no such plans whatsoever.

The man’s actions only strengthened his resolve to return successful to the city.

The bearded man did not allow anyone else to follow them out through what once should have been a door but now was tilted upwards enough to be a roof window. Outside he led Scorpius some distance away so that none would be able to hear what they discussed.

“Why are you really here?” the bearded man asked without any preamble. His voice was grave as he watched Scorpius in the dim light shed by the moon.

“I already said it, to bring you to the city.”

“Why? Why do you want us there so badly?”

Scorpius thought for a bit, then decided to tell the truth. Or most of it. He didn’t want to lie, but some things were unnecessary for the bearded man to know. “You’re dying here. Iago doesn’t want to let what few humans remain to die out if he can do anything about it.”

“Iago? Is that the shaper that slaughtered our kin?” There was veiled fury in the man’s voice. He remembered well the night when they ambushed the survivors in their camp.

“Yes, but before you start calling me a liar, I have to say you were the ones who attacked,” Scorpius declared, crossing his arms. “If not for him, you would have killed everyone in the city.”

“Not everyone…” the bearded man muttered under his breath, but it wasn’t much of a disagreement. Instead he returned to his previous argument. “How could we trust someone who can slaughter humans as if they were pigs? What he did… the power he unleashed… it was wrong!”

It was hard for Scorpius to keep from shouting at the man for his hypocrisy. It was all right for them to slay everyone with swords and daggers, but Iago using shaping was not? What difference did it make, anyway? People were dead either way.

“Then you’d rather die than give him a chance to prove himself?” He shook his head in remorse. “Is everyone among you so full spite and indignation? Maybe it is for the better that all of you die here. Hungry and alone.”

Forcefully uncrossing his hands, Scorpius turned to leave. He would find another group of people. There were bound to be more survivors. Humans lived through the worst of disasters, no matter how unlikely their survival was.

He would find others. It might take time but there was no chance here. This man was too prideful for his own good. He cared only for his own righteousness, anyone else having power in his mind was a breach of natural order.

A moment before shifting into his bat form, the bearded man called him.

“Wait! Wait! Don’t go!” He ran the few steps towards him and caught Scorpius by the shoulder, turning him around. “I didn’t say I won’t go!”

“You didn’t?”

The man huffed, spitting to the side. “We are going to die. It’s bound to be better coming with you then storming the city on our own.”

Scorpius’ eyes went wide. “You were planning another attack? Knowing he was there?”

“It was either that, or starve to death!” he answered in a defensive manner. “Though, now I see we might have missed another option. Will he really accept us in?”

“My presence will help you none,” Scorpius said so the man wouldn’t have any expectations. “But Iago will fight anyone wanting to prevent you from joining the survivors.”

The bearded man laughed bitterly. “Ha, fighting with a shaper. No one would dare raise a word against his wishes. We’re as good as already in then.”

“Not at all,” Scorpius said. “They respect him for shaping food, restoring the temple to its original beauty but they don’t fear him. Not once had he used his powers against them and so they treat him as an equal.”

Disbelief was clear on the bearded man’s face but he did not say anything more on that matter. “How much time do we have? Shall I tell everyone to get ready?”

“There was no time limit, I was just told to come and see if you were willing to come and join the camp. “

“Right, will you be joining us on the way to the city?”

The question surprised Scorpius. He was about to say no when from the corner of the eye he saw Scavengers watching from the tilted doorway. What would it mean if he just up and disappeared now, turned into his bat form?

Unthinkable. They did not need to know who he was. The knowledge would only bring trouble to him, and in turn Iago. “Yes,” he answered. “Tell everyone I’m just a simple traveller and want to join you on the way to the city.”

“Few will believe me,” the bearded man cautioned. “They saw you seeking me out.”

He shrugged. “Can’t do anything about it. The fewer know about my true nature, the better. Try to keep it that way, all right?”

Though he said it without any malicious intent, the bearded man flinched away and nodded quickly. Soon after he hurried back to his people, glancing over his shoulder every other step. Only when he reached the buried building did he become too busy answering the questions of his people to watch back.

Scorpius stood in his place, listening to the conversations but paying them little heed. He had accomplished his mission. In a couple days he’ll be back in the city and able to tell Iago that he did what he was told. The task given to him was done.

A smile tugged at his lips and he raised his head to the stars, wondering how long Scavengers will take to get ready. The bearded man was telling them to prepare to go to the city asking for asylum to which few gave agreement. Most were unhappy with the change of plans and kept on asking for what price he was planning to sell them all out.

It didn’t look like the conversation was going anywhere soon. He sat down wrapping his cloak tighter around himself and rested his head on his knees. There was no hurry. He could rest and wait for them to make their arrangements to travel.

In the meantime he wondered how Iago was doing with the Mistress. Had he come up with a plan? Or was he going to meet her without a thought, winging it as he went? It grated at him to be stuck here when such an important event was happening but at the same time he knew it was for the better.

Unlike him, Iago knew the Mistress best. Alone, without having to worry about anyone, he would be able to concern himself with his own survival. No stray thoughts would distract him about whether Scorpius was hidden well enough, or would be noticed by the Mistress at any point and what to do then.

He knew that, but it brought little joy. Without him, Iago had no one to protect his back. If the Mistress turned on him, his life would be forfeit.

“Who am I to change that, though?” Scorpius murmured to his knees. He held no power to stop the Mistress. With him or without him, Iago had the same chances of winning against her. No matter how physically strong Scorpius was, it mattered not against a shaper. Especially one so powerful as that lady Winteridge.

His thoughts then shifted to Shea who managed to forget her power in the face of him. She was so innocent, unprepared for the real world. Was she really going to go against Iago? He hoped not, but it was a faint hope. Being more talented, she believed herself invincible. He had seen it in her eyes when she talked with that boy Tyr. Boosted by his confidence, she did not understand the difference between having talent and experience.

How large the gulf between the two was.

***

It was midday when Alec saw Iago coming into the barracks. The shaper checked up on everyone who was injured and Alec was glad to hear there were no complications. Grey was the worst off, but he was healing well.

When Iago came to him, he tried to shake the shaper off but he was not listening. Standing still with hands crossed and a piercing gaze levelled on Alec, he did not move a muscle no matter how much Alec told him to leave. That he was fine.

“You’re not, so stop talking nonsense and let me have a look. I’ll need your help with something this evening if you’re up to it.”

This took Alec by surprise. Never before had the shaper expressed his need for assistance in anything. What could this be about? Alec doubted it was anything good, but he was intrigued enough to allow a check-up to learn about it.

Worst part about taking off his shirt was that it hurt like hell. Raising his hands, dragging the material past his tender skin and then having to look at the bruised black, blue and yellow skin. At least there was no pity in the shaper’s eyes. He examined the discoloured skin, nodding to himself and then produced another healing salve.

“Use this for today. It’ll take away most of the pain.”

“Why would I need it to?” he asked suspiciously. The usual medicine relieved, bringing a satisfying frost to the skin but was more focused on healing the damage rather than killing the pain.

Iago motioned for him to follow into another room. After closing the doors behind him, the shaper turned. “I’m going to the Mistress today and could use a bodyguard. Would you be up to the task?”

“Me? I have a hard time breathing with my bruised ribs!” Alec exclaimed in surprise. By his calculations, it would be more than a month before he could pick up the sword again. He’d considered doing it earlier, but that was asking for trouble. Health was more important than any skills.

“You won’t need to fight or anything,” Iago said shaking his head. He went to sit on a stack of boxes. “All I need is a pretence of power. If I come alone, it would lower my standing greatly. Our situation is not one where I can ignore it.”

Alec did not understand it whatsoever. Pretence of power? Coming alone? What did they have to do with anyone’s standing? One was either a noble and had it, or wasn’t and did not. He expressed it fluently with his expression alone.

The shaper eyed him for a time in the gloom of the room. “Do you trust me?”

“What?”

“Do you trust me to do good by you? The survivors in the camp?”

Attacked so suddenly, Alec did not know what to say. He could lie, but he had a feeling the shaper would know. There was that strange air about him as if he knew everyone’s secrets and every little thing they wanted to remain hidden.

But saying no wasn’t a choice either. Whatever this shaper was, he was still a shaper. After he had helped so much, it would be dangerous for Alec to reveal they still did not believe in his goodness. As much as they wanted to, there was just no way they could trust a shaper. He was too powerful, too distanced from the everyday life of normal people to be naturally interested in helping them. It would be the same as a hawk helping out a swallow.

A chuckle came from the shaper. “Maybe I should make this easier for you?” The smile he presented Alec was wane, not a shadow of humour within it. “Do you prefer me over the Mistress?”

Easy one. Whatever trust issues there might be, there could be no discussion as to who cared more about survivors. “You know that one,” he answered, carefully gauging the other’s reaction. Lack of it.

“Good. Then will you help me ensure that I don’t get smothered by her power?”

“How? I’m a nobody.”

“You underestimate yourself too much,” Iago said massaging his temple. “Now that Commander has made a mockery of himself, everyone knows you represent the survivors. Whoever has you on their side controls the camp.”

What did it matter? If the Mistress came out with her power, everyone would fall on their knees following her every word. He told the shaper exactly that.

“You’re right but it’s inconsequential. It’s overkill to go out herself, that’s what all the servants are for.” His smile was dry. “In her regard, I will be nothing more than just another one. That’s why I need something to hold over her to remain free. She wouldn’t want the camp raising up and forcing her to leave her dais to wipe half the population so the rest remembers their place.”

“She would do that?” Alec asked in horror, the image flashing before his eyes. He’d never seen her shaping, but the rumours of her power had circulated since before the Scourge. For the last hundred years no one was her match. She was as far away from other shapers as they from normal people.

Iago shrugged. “Probably. She was never one to care for the consequences.”

“And you want me to sign up with you and not her? You’re mad!”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m not asking you to go against anyone, just show your allegiance to me. All I want is for you to stand behind me and give an impression of trusting me. As long as you do that, she will leave both of us alone.”

This sounded too fantastical. “How do you know that?”

After the mention of leaving alone, he remembered Commander. They had rebelled against him and that wasn’t going to just go away. Without anyone’s protection, they might end up eradicated as Commander often promised.

His heart quivered at the thought. Through the whole wounds, bruises, healing business, he’d forgotten the most important problem. Commander wasn’t going to forget their rebellion. If he was given freedom, he would hack them all to to pieces. Mercy did not exist in his vocabulary.

Only two people could prevent him from doing anything and Mistress did not care about Alec and his soldiers. Iago alone held the power to save them. If he wished so. Without his protection against Commander, they wouldn’t have long. What terrors that would present the rest of survivors, Alec did not want to think about.

“I’ve known her prior to this destruction. So, will you join me this evening?”

“Yeah,” Alec answered reluctantly. He did not want to stand against the Mistress but he did not have much of a choice. Since she did not care enough to protect them, he had to look for help elsewhere.

“Thanks,” Iago told him with a nod, standing up and moving to the doors. “Come to my tower in a few hours. I’ll have the clothes and everything prepared by then.”

Before Alec could ask what that everything was, the shaper was out the door and the barracks. He was in a hurry. Maybe he wasn’t as certain of his position as he wanted to be.

It changed little. The choice was made and all he could do now was hope it was the right one.

Glancing down at himself, his face twisted in disgust. He looked like an amateur painter’s work gone wrong. Taking out the salve, he proceeded to rub it into his skin. Every touch elicited a wince or a groan but he continued until most of his body was covered.

It wasn’t long before he felt a difference. His breathing quickly eased and the constant pain of moving his strained muscles disappeared. A small miracle.

Putting on a thin shirt, he walked outside to see how the rest of the camp was doing. Most survivors were outside, wandering without much of a purpose. They called to him in friendly tones while doing their best not to stare at this bruised face and the faint discolourations visible through his shirt. They were having a hard time so he did not spend much time with them.

In the canteen he met Urri cleaning the place. She smiled upon seeing him, presenting a couple fruits that he wasn’t allowed to refuse. He wondered where she had gotten them from but did not question. The shaper probably had created them, though, for what purpose, he could not decide. Fruits served little purpose when considering that all food had to be shaped and that wasn’t easy. His own experience proved how unstable Iago became during the time, and how dangerous it was to him.

This alone should have brought him to Iago’s camp but Alec did not believe in natural goodness of the heart. Commander had taught him that people who appeared most generous and good often hid the most wicked hearts.

Evening came unwelcomed. With little eagerness Alec found himself standing by the tower’s doors questioning his decision to be here. He kept on telling himself it was the right thing to do. His choice to throw his lot with the shaper wasn’t going to backfire on everyone.

It would be so much easier if it was only his own head he was risking.

The doors opened before him and Iago appeared looking nothing like himself. Dressed in a white tunic with a stand up collar, decorated with brocade fabric accents and a matching silver trim around the sleeves, black leather belt with steel decorations, dark brown breeches and black ankle boots. Completing the whole ensemble was a midnight blue linen surcoat with trim matching the tunic’s. His usually wind tousled reddish hair was slicked back, bringing the uncut crystal earring into view. It swayed with every move of Iago’s head.

“Something wrong?” the shaper asked letting him inside the room.

Alec shook his head as he stepped forward. He tried to push away the fear that he was walking into a huge trap. Having cleaned up and dressed in rich clothes, Iago suddenly reminded him what shapers truly were - nobility.

It wasn’t clothes alone, but when cloaked and dusty, it was hard to see the proud posture. Or was it just a lie? He wouldn’t be surprised if it showed up Iago changed his mannerisms among the survivors to make it more believable he was of the lower class.

Now Alec was certain that was not the case. After delivering shoes his father made to the noble houses, he’d often seen nobles returning or leaving. He would know them at first glance. Their walking speed, the way they moved, talked.

An air of superiority radiated off of them. They walked with an ever present surety of every step, certainty of their rightness to say and do whatever they wanted.

Iago now pertained that exact feeling. His reserved, unmindful nature was exchanged for a manner full of confidence and grace. His back was straight, head held high as he walked to the other side of the room with steady steps. This was not the same unassuming young man that did his best to stay out of everyone’s attention for the most part.

“Put this on,” Iago said bringing a change of clothes. In his hands were a set of deep blue silk tunic and a black leather tabard. On its front was carved a blade enveloped by a thorny vine.

Not daring to waste time, Alec did as told and was surprised by the freedom allowed by the tabard. Its sides tied up, while the bottom was left slitted to allow easy movement.

While he was marvelling, Iago came with a few more things. He presented silvered black molded leather vambraces and grieves. They were scarred in an imitation of cracked armour. After tying them up, Alec was given a black belt with a sheaved sword. Its pommel was of birch wood and wrapped over with tight leather. No jewels shone on it or the sheath.

Now that he paid attention to it, there was no expensive jewelry on his or Iago’s wear. All of it was of high quality and well made but had no shine to it, not counting the few silver ornaments on Iago’s tunic. Unusual for garments made for nobles.

Iago looked him up and down, then gave a satisfied nod. “Glad to see it all fits.”

Alec examined himself and could not say anything. He’d worn armour before but it was heavy, hard to move in and mostly unsightly, badly fit for him. However, it was the usual wear for knights and it was a dream of his to become one. A dead dream. Commander had butchered it swiftly upon meeting.

Now he stared at the leather tabard, which provided little defence but allowed great movement speed, and remembered the techniques Iago had been teaching Grey. Armed with them and agility, wouldn’t he be similar to Elecar? Conscripts usually wore leather if any armour, and simple, unadorned blades.

A smile tugged at his lips as he imagined himself fighting at the side of his hero. Glorious future that could never be. He could only be drafted if a war came, and then it was forbidden for commoners to wield swords. Not forgetting that by now, Elecar would be over ninety if he was still alive.

“Thanks,” he muttered, bowing his head lightly in Iago’s direction. It was hard to imagine how the shaper managed to find everything , and especially fitting him so well. It was as if everything was specifically made for him. Though, he doubted it was shaped. The price for it would be too high.

Iago nodded in acceptance and took a vellum letter from the ground. Dusting it off, he walked towards the doors, “Time to meet our charming adversary.”