Zero stared at the goat’s haunch. He had done his best. It was browned on the outside, but there was really no way he could be sure, as he could not taste it. He thought back through the ever fading memories of his other life, and realized that he had never eaten goat. It’s got to be better than snake. Or the rats. He picked up the plate with the leg of goat and tubers, and carried it from the makeshift kitchen into the room where Audene spent most of her time.

“Mistress.” Zero bowed ever so slightly, and she looked up from the metal desk, her black on black eyes capturing and destroying the light.

“Zero?” She spoke without looking at him, her eyes returning to the papers on her desk. The darkness was nearly complete, the only light coming from the small cookfire in the next room, but Zero knew that Audene could see. Audene could see everything. Zero’s gaze fell on the silver rod she was absentmindedly twirling in her fingers, and he took an involuntary step back.

“I have prepared a meal,” it had been years, and still the tin sound of his voice sounded foreign when he heard it, “of sorts.”

“I see, and did you bring me any good news? Or am I to sustain myself on your foul cooking alone!” Her voice rose with every word, and she punctuated her outburst by striking the rod in her hand against the desk. In that moment it was as though Zero was the rod. It was an agony of sorts, but it paled in comparison to his revulsion at disappointing Audene.

Weakness gripped him, but he did not bend to it, refusing to drop the plate he was holding. “Audene,” he struggled to speak, “please.”

She stood from the desk, and sauntered across the room through the darkness. Standing directly in front of him, she gently lifted the plate from his trembling copper hands, and sniffed it. “I am hungry, Zero.” She sighed and turned, taking a step towards her desk and placing the plate on the edge, next to the disheveled papers.

Zero sighed relief inwardly, though no breath would ever fill him again, “Yes, you need to keep your strength.”

Her back to him, she spoke very softly, “I am hungry. I hunger for my revenge. I hunger for the blood of those that persecuted my people for centuries.” She struck the silver rod against the plate, shattering it in the process and sending fragments of meat flying into the darkness. Again and again she struck the rod against the desk, and the vibration wracked Zero’s body, cut through him and forced him to the floor.

She stopped. There was an enduring echo of the sensation, but she had stopped. If only I could give her what she wanted! Zero’s mind raced backwards through the muddy stream of his memories, and fell upon a cold night when she still called him Clive and they had shared a tent the eve before their last battle.

“Audene, who are you? Really?” Clive lay on his side, his body pressed against hers beneath the blanket. A dim glow radiated from a stone somewhere near their feet.

She smiled at him coquettishly, and he swam in her black on black eyes, “I’m Audene! Audene Mendez. Your commanding officer!”

“You know what I mean! Who are you, and where did you come from? The things you can do, the way you move on the battlefield. No one moves like you. No one Spells like you.” He paused and then added, “Well, except for your sister, if the rumors are to be believed.” his voice trailed off to a near whisper, “You can’t be from here, but where else is there?”

She rolled over on top of him, straddling him, and started kissing his neck, “Clive, why do you spoil this moment by asking such things?”

There was fear in what he was about to say, but every day they laid siege to towers, there was fear. Every day might be their last, and so he said it, “I love you, Audene, and I want to know who you really are.”

She looked surprised for a moment, and then at last she said, “If you would love me, if you would follow me, I must have your eternal loyalty.”

“You have it, always!”

“Well, you might think that, but before I can trust you with any of my secrets, there is a ritual to insure it.”

Zero stared into the darkness, the glow from the cookfire outlining the door that seemed to be turned on its side.

She commanded, “Get up.” Zero forced himself to kneeling, and then standing again. There was no damage, there was never any damage aside from the trauma. “Send in one of the less stupid ones to clean this up, and go check on the hatchlings. We must strike quickly before she finds out, we need to bolster our forces.”

Zero bowed, and exited the room, leaving her in the darkness. He made his way down through the dark hall. This deep in the desert, it was unlikely that any would stumble upon these ruins, but no chances were taken. The only light was the flickering cook fire, and that which filtered in through the windows on the exterior walls. The walls of this place were made of some sort of smooth stone that seemed to resist the erosion of time. Through the halls, and then down the ramp into the bowels of the building, into the cells.

Zero opened one of the doors, and removed the silver rod from the clip on his belt. He stared at the pathetic creature on the other side of the door for a moment, the humanless soul trapped in a metal husk, and ever so gently he tapped the silver rod against the floor.

“Suss, go clean the mistress’ room.” He stared at her unblinking, through eyes that were golden glowing orbs.

She stared back at him, through a face that was the mirror to his except her’s was unmarred and clean. Zero was proud of every stain and blemish he had won in battle and through work. Audene had offered to replace the damaged copper plating with clean, new pieces, but he refused her. Every mark was proof that though he no longer lived, he still existed.

“Clean?” she asked.

“Yes, Suss, clean,” he struck the rod against the doorframe a little firmer this time and watched her shudder. There was no pleasure in what he was doing, it simply needed to be done. “You understand?”

“Yes,” her voice was exactly the same as his own, they all were. Hearing them speak in the rattling tin voice that was his, robbed him of his individuality, but there was no more sorrow or fear. Audene had explained it to him when he asked, she said that the removal of the endocrine system allowed for clear thinking. Thinking like hers.

“I will clean.” The one called Suss said, and started to push past him.

“Suss, do not upset her, she is not in a patient mood.” Zero didn’t know why he was warning her, “and remember that you are Number Seventeen.”

She bowed slightly, and began making her way past him again. Zero watched her go, and when she disappeared at the top of the ramp, he made his way down through the long hall, doors on either side of him. The doors were weak, rotten wood that he could have easily punched through with his hands. Any of the other subjects could have done the same, but they would not. Those with stronger spirits that he had captured in Uriel felt the rod, and just to be sure he had made sure that all of them had felt the rod when any one defied him. It was better to be safe.

At the end of the hall, two of them stood by a door that was not weak wood. It was a fierce looking thing, made of wrought iron. On either side of the door were the two strongest. Number Forty-Five and Fifty-Three. What were their names? They stood stock still as he approached, staring at him through unblinking eyes that glowed like stars in the dark hall. Zero tightened his grip on the rod.

“Forty-Five. Fifty-Three.” Zero tried to muster a tone of command, and his voice rang like water on a tin roof. I must broach the subject of my voice with Audene.

“Zero.” They replied in unison, in Zero’s voice.

He stared at them both for a moment, the rod in his hand held aloft. Lack of facial expression made them difficult to read. He hoped that they weren’t going to try anything stupid today, Audene would probably put them back in their crystals if they did. He stepped between them and began working the mechanism on the door. It was a lock that only Zero could open this way, he had built the door himself. After a few complex gestures, the door swung open, and Zero entered the room, closing it quickly behind him.

Inside the room were Numbers One through Twelve, and Zero clipped the rod back to his waist. The dozen had been children, and Audene had been very optimistic about them. She thought that they would be like fresh clay, but if anything they were harder to shape than even the dimmest of the others. They did have an affinity for the hatchlings though, and Zero had been grateful to be relieved of the care of the dragons.

“Commander Zero!” A dozen tin voices rang out in unison, and though they spoke in the same voice, through the same fine golden screen that he spoke, it sounded like a classroom to him.

“Children,” Zero thought back to their bodies, left discarded in the stone hallway of the temple complex that had been their only home. He pushed the foolish thought away, “How are the hatchlings?” He was peering up and down the rows of cages, inside each container was an emerald green dragon that was far too large for the cage now. Between every other cage was a steadily burning fire. The room was clouded with smoke though small wisps of it escaped through grated holes in the ceiling.

“Commander Zero, I don’t think they like it here.” The one that spoke was Number Seven, though she had told Zero in confidence that her ‘real’ name was Aruh.

Zero looked at the cramped quarters. Many of the green dragons lay unmoving, their wingtips spread out like funeral shrouds, furling at the ends unable to stretch past the sharp wire cage walls. Others were pacing in tiny circles, struggling to turn around, and still worse were those that had taken to scratching at their scales, till red wounds were visible.

The dozen were at the cages, stretching their cold copper fingers through the mesh or sitting cross legged on the floor with their heads leaning against the metal netting. Their copper faces were inscrutable, but a strange sorrow radiated from them. It was not a sorrow for themselves, but for these wretched creatures in their care.

“It won’t be much longer, we will be able to move soon, to a much better place. They will have more space, and will be able to fly and hunt.” Zero didn’t know if he was lying or not, but it seemed like the right thing to say. “Have you been gathering the fog when you feed them?”

“Oh yes! We have more than ten!” Aruh gestured to a stack of canisters. There were at least thirty, but it had been a trying experience trying to teach any of the dozen to count past ten. Just teaching them a few words of the language had taken weeks. Still, Number Seven had learned enough that they acted as translator and supervisor to the others.

Zero did a more thorough count of the canisters. With the appraising eye of a farmer looking at a field of blighted crops, he checked the health of each of the hatchlings. Many of them looked like they were dying, though Audene had assured him that dragons were incredibly difficult to kill. Maybe their spirits are dying.

“Thank you, children. You are doing the work of Ma’ii.” It was much easier to keep the children motivated by telling them they were doing what Ma’ii wanted them to do.

“Thank you, Commander Zero.” Again their false voices rang out in unison, and Zero felt transported to a classroom.

He readied the silver rod again, and opened the door. Number Forty-Five and Fifty-Three stood unmoving. Rod held in plain sight, he quickly closed the door, and locked the mechanism. Neither of the guards said a word to him. Zero wondered if they were truly broken, or if they were merely biding their time. They were certainly the best soldiers he had at his disposal, but they were like dogs that might turn on their master at the first sign of weakness. Still, if I had a few score like these two, Audene’s plan might not seem so foolhardy.

He made his way back through the hall, stopping and opening doors at random. Ungrateful cretins, none of them appreciate the gift she’s given us. There was a distinct difference between those that had been taken from the temple and those that had been taken from the Uriel. The former were like cattle, while the latter were like a pack of rabid wolves.

He passed Suss on his way past the cells, and doubled back to let her into her room. The doors had no locks, but none other than Forty-Five and Fifty-Three were brave enough to open the doors. The conditioning was absolute. As she stepped into her tiny room, Suss asked him, “Zero, what is your name?”

The question took him by surprise, “Clive,” he said automatically, and regretted telling her immediately.

He raised the silver rod, and she reached out her copper hand and grasped his wrist gently, “I will not tell her, Clive.”

Zero hesitated, and then lowered the rod. He closed the door, leaving her in darkness, and made his way slowly back up the ramp towards Audene’s room. Thirty-two canisters in ten days. At this rate we might be able to seize a proper city in another month. Assuming I can keep a leash on the Urielites.

The cook fire had burned itself out almost completely, only a low red glow lit the edges of the room. Zero could not feel the chill desert air, though he knew that it must be cold. He added another small piece of broken furniture to the embers, and watched flames lick greedily at the fresh fuel. The door to Audene’s room looked foreboding. A conscious distaste welled in his mind though it was not fear. It was never fear, simply a preemptive disappointment. He walked back into the room, very aware of the metallic sound of his feet on the smooth stone.

Audene was no longer sitting behind her desk, instead she was standing in front of it with her eyes closed. Her simple handspun robe lay around her feet like a pool of grey, contrasting with her jet black skin. Zero appraised her her naked form, his mind struggling to recall the first time he had seen her do this.

“Commander,” Clive blurted out the words, rushing through the tent flap, “we have secured the objective, and-” he stopped abruptly.

Audene was standing in the middle of the command tent naked. She stood with her back to the intricate, moving maps and models on the table. Her hands were clasped behind her head, and for a moment he thought she must be under the effect of an enemy spell. Dumbstruck, Clive’s hand clawed for the cord around his neck until he found the spherical pendant of silver. He worked his will on the pendant, and dozens of objects all around him immediately burst with colorful light.

There was no light around the commander, no magic was being worked on her, or by her. At least none that the pendant could detect. Clive hesitated, anxiety mingled with appreciation as he caught himself staring at her. He steeled his will, and bent down to pick up her robe. As soon as he touched her, to lower her arms, her black on black eyes snapped open, and she slapped him hard across the face. He dropped the robe, and his jaw hung open. Naked and exposed she still seemed to command all the authority and power she held on the battlefield.

“You entered my tent without permission.” Her voice was sharp, her eyes boring into his.

“Apologies commander, I was sent with the message, we have secured the objective.” He stared at the floor as he spoke, anxious to look anywhere but at her.

“I know, I was watching,” she paused, then her voice took on a playful tone, “Still, you entered my tent without permission, you must be punished. On your knees.”

Zero stood stock still, staring at Audene. He felt nothing, and never would again. Audene had not aged a day, her youth apparently enduring against the centuries, and she had given Zero the same gift. He forced himself to feel gratitude for all that she was and all that she had given him as he waited, the minutes becoming hours.

Finally, she opened her eyes and spoke, “We shall have to mobilize, tell me that they are ready, Zero.”

Zero thought to the thirty-canisters, and the two soldiers that he knew had some degree of fight in them, he said “We need more time, mistress.”

“Time is the one thing we do not have, Zero. The iron is hot, and you are my hammer. We must strike, that idiot king has moved too hastily, and the situation at the University has become strained. Already the rats are fleeing, running to build their towers. We must make our move,” she was speaking in a cold, off-handed way that brokered no argument, crouching to gather her robe and the ever-present silver rod, “More importantly, my sister approaches.”