Where am I? Between the armor and Dwayne and Odette’s prattling, Huan hadn’t had the chance to actually examine the area, but even though he now only had the forge’s muffled light, he could see what this place had been: the community’s beating heart.

On passages were covered with thousands of scuff marks from hundreds of people coming in and out of the forge. They must have been packed in here shoulder to shoulder, their hands wearing away the stone walls and making them as smooth as river stones and because of, signs pointing to various destinations had been carved into the ceiling. They must have been a god send for the sightseeing tourist, but for Huan they merely presented more questions. What was the tree symbol? Why were some of the signs crossed out? Where did the many-arched pictogram lead?

All I know is I don’t want to follow the anvil sign. Huan braced himself for the beast’s snarling retort.

It didn’t come.

This quiet still felt unreal. For sometime now, all Huan could hear were his own foot falls echoing in the empty corridors, all he could feel was the forge’s thirsty heat engorging itself on his sweat, all he could see was the ever present blood-filtered light, and it was glorious. No growling or shaming or prodding to challenge, to contest, to fight, just Huan desire to find his sister and escape.

Huan continued onwards, using the signs to lead him away from the forge. He found a lot of dead ends: doors that wouldn’t open, corridors that had collapsed, wide empty pits. He tripped over another set of dusty bones.

They abandoned those in the forge. It wasn’t a pleasant thought so Huan hurried past them, failing to look up at the sign he passed under. After a long while, he reached a passage that grew brighter and hotter as he walked up it. Is it morning? He tried to gauge how much time had passed, but it could have been either mere minutes or many hours since he’d fallen down here. Still some breakfast wouldn’t be missed.

He entered the forge. “Sh-”

Huan slapped a hand over his mouth and dove behind an anvil. The armor was still here, kneeling in the center of the room like it was waiting for them to return.

Did it see me? Huan held his breath and listened for the distinctive creak, but all he heard was a soft high-pitched whine. What is that? Huan let out a slow quiet breath and then peeked at the armor.

The armor was still kneeling, its shadow flickering in the light of the forge. Its pose was meditative and still.

Huan had know idea where the sound came from. What is it doing? Praying? He searched the room. I’ll find another way.

There was a door, a few unblocked corridors, and a pile of stone and half-melted anvils, the last place Huan had seen Dwayne and Odette. By the looks of it, it would take weeks to dig them out.

Can’t help them now. They’re on their own. But maybe… Huan slid to the wall and considered his next step. He could go back the way he’d come, but he was certain he’d end up back here. There was one other way out though: the first corridor they’d landed in. He just had to get to it. Keeping one eye on the armor, Huan started to slide around the room.

A soft screech cut through the whine and Huan froze.

The armor had shifted and settled deeper into its kneeling position. From Huan’s new position, he could see that the armor had placed its two swords in front of it as if they were offerings to the forge. Huan couldn’t see its eyes, but it looked like the armor was staring into the light.

Was it meditating? Huan had heard that experienced warriors did that in order to contemplate their past battles. Perhaps it was so engrossed in how the last battle went, it wouldn’t care for a second one. One could be optimistic.

Huan returned to his task, reached the target corridor, slid in, and snuck away. When he got out of earshot of the forge, he broke into a run, soon reaching the chamber that he and Dwayne had fallen into. Without the beast’s eyes, he could barely see the tunnel above him, but, more importantly, he couldn’t see the forge’s red light at the other end. After checking that the mask and his scabbard were secure, Huan jumped up into the hole, jammed his fingers into a couple of handholds, then hauled himself upwards. To keep himself from dropping, he pressed his feet and back against the sides. Already his leg muscles burned, but this would work.

Think of Mei. Huan shifted each foot one at a time and sliding his back up the sides, climbing up the tunnel a bit at a time. When he found his sister, he’d have to convince her that this whole trip had been foolish, that they should return to Anders and make an honest living scamming idiot nobles. They should leave this desert and its maze-like tombs and its crazy suits of armor behind and thank the heavens to live somewhere where the air didn’t choke you with its heat. Besides, with the mask off the ShengXiao couldn’t-

“Ow!” Huan had hit his head against something. He reached up and felt the obstruction. It was wood. What? A branch, no a tree root, blocked his way. How? He wasn’t an expert on trees, but surely there weren’t any capable of growing this fast. I wasn’t gone that long!

Huan punched the tree root. He’d try to chop through it, but his sword was shattered and there weren’t anymore lying around. Except for the armor’s. If the armor was still praying or meditating or whatever, then maybe it wouldn’t notice if he borrowed a blade. With any luck, he’d be back on the surface with Mei and far away from this place. Plan in hand, Huan descended the tunnel and jogged back to the forge, slowing when he reached the main room. He peeked. The armor hadn’t moved at all. Good.

Slowing his breath, Huan edged towards the armor.

“Salameh!” Huan skittered behind an anvil as a human kid dressed in a blue tunic skipped into the room. “Blaadu!”

The armor turned to the kid and inclined its head. “Pari.” Its voice buzzed beneath its helmet. “Tuy sumulehah?”

Pari hugged the armor. “Yuluumaneh.” He pointed at Huan. “Tuy juano?”

The armor saw Huan and jumped to its feet. “Shuo!” It drew its swords. “Pari, lon. Lon!”

Oh shit. As Pari scampered away, Huan darted out from behind the anvil. He hadn’t seen where the kid had come from, but that wasn’t an option right now. The armor was advancing and he only had one choice.

To flee.

***

“Ouch…” Dwayne rolled onto his side and removed Na’cch from its sling, but that simple movement was enough to summon a wave of nauseating pain that burned from his throat to his stomach, which made him curl up. He stayed like that, clenching his fists against the pain, until the pain faded to a mere ache. Then he looked up and saw who was with him.

The Vanurian chuckled at his groan. “I’m guessing you weren’t a slave very long.” She was leaning against a wall with her crossbow against her knee. “Most ex-slaves I’ve met showed fear, not anger.”

“No, I’m not afraid of-” A cough wracked Dwayne’s throat.

“Take it easy,” said the Vanurian. “We’ll need your magic to get out of here, at least if this is anything like what Luisa’s mother wrote in her journal.”

“Whatever.”

The Vanurian sighed. “We’re trapped here.” She pointed to Dwayne’s left, where a pile of stone blocked the way out. “That’s from that thing’s last attack. I barely got you out of the way of it.” She shook her head. “Is that your thing? Getting saved from falling objects?”

Dwayne swallowed a grimace and focused on the other wall, the one Vanurian hadn’t pointed out. It wasn’t a wall. It was another older rock slide that covered in ash and dust. More human remains peeked out from under it. It looked old and settled and was probably the result of some ancient calamity.

“Yeah, that looks very old, maybe a century or two.” The Vanurian, favoring her left foot, hobbled over to the newer pile. “I can dig us out of this eventually, but it’ll be faster if you blast it instead.” She patted the pile of stone.

Dwayne glared at her. “That spell nearly killed me.”

“Oh?” The Vanurian smirked. “I hadn’t noticed.” She grabbed a stone off the pile and tossed it. “Since you can’t help, you should keep me entertained.”

Dwayne’s lips curled. “I’m not going to do anything for you.”

“Suit yourself, but I’ll prime the pump anyway.” The Vanurian tossed away another stone. “My short name is Odette Montes, and I served as an inspector on Count Melo’s Money Over Souls.”

Dwayne winced, remembering the inspector on the ship that had taken him from his home. He’d been a quiet man who’d barely spent seconds doing his job and always fled the ship at every port.

“It’s one of the most important jobs on the ship,” said the Vanurian.

Dwayne’s words came through clenched teeth. “I’m sure it is.”

“Believe me, it is.” The Vanurian sighed. “We were supposed to make sure that the ‘goods’ made it to port in acceptable condition. If they didn’t, the counts risked their reputation and their rights to trade in Adhua.” She kept digging. “You were bought in Adhua, right?”

That was southern Soura’s largest port. Dwayne shook his head. “Lord Kalan bought me in Vanuria.” It had been an island really, but it had definitely been Vanuria.

The Vanurian stared. “He stole you?”

“No, he freed me.”

“No, to the counts, he stole you.” The Vanurian shook her head. “There is no way you got from Wesen all the way to a Vanurian port without someone knowing about your abilities. That someone must have been willing to risk the wrath of the Ri.”

Dwayne blinked. “Why would the Ri come after me? They didn’t… they don’t care.”

The Vanurian watched his face. “Oh, you don’t know.” She shrugged and returned to digging. “You’ll find out. Inspectors are supposed to know that kind of thing, what the state of the ‘work units’ is.” She grabbed a rock but didn’t pick it up. “You had to think of them that way, work units, because if you started to think of them as people then you had to ask yourself what was I really doing when all I wanted to do was to be a sailor, see the world, meet fascinating people not…not that.

“Anyway,” she tossed the stone away, “on my first voyage I was assigned to a slave run. The captain spent the whole trip trying to convince me to have a drink with her, to just relax and let her and her crew handle everything, but I wanted to learn everything about sailing, the boat, the ocean, and so on our way to Adhua, I drank with the crew, taught the cabin boy his letters, scrubbed the decks, learned knots, all that. I finally felt free, liberated from the constraints of family and land and honor.”

Dwayne crossed his arms. He couldn’t remember the ocean, but even through the haze of thaumaturgical shock - probably from using the vial - he could remember the weight of shackles, the smell of human refuse, and the sounds of weeping, sobbing, and raging of the other slaves. “Yeah, that sounds real idyllic.”

The Vanurian smiled. “It was. Until we got to Adhua and I found out what the Expected Manifest had meant by ‘Work Units’.” She picked up a stone and inspected it. “Fifty-three.” She threw the stone to the ground. “I was to confirm that fifty-three viable work units were acquired in Adhua and that at least forty-two of them made it to our home port.”

“They…” Dwayne swallowed bile. “They expected almost one in five would die on the way?”

“That only one in five would die.” Montes the Vanurian threw the stone to the ground. “Money was a good ship with a good captain so Count Melo had high expectations of her, and so on the way I learned what it took to keep at least forty-two people alive through bad treatment, bad weather, and the true killer, despair.” Her face twisted. “Some of the crew complained that the slavers had cheated us because they didn’t care about quality, just quantity.”

“Slavers?”

“The Ri.”

Once again, bile rose in Dwayne’s throat. “That’s… That’s…”

“Business.” Montes returned to digging. “The Ri needs Souran metal and Tuqu bindery, and all they have to trade are the people from other Wesen tribes like yours.

“Anyway, that trip I got over my shock and did my job. I made sure that the crew kept their hands off the women and that the children survived the storms and that the men didn’t commit suicide, and I did everything I could to lessen their suffering.”

Dwayne eased himself upright. “Did that make you feel better?”

Montes tried to hide her wince. “I hoped it would.” She tossed another stone. “I made twenty more trips, only losing nine people total. When I got back from my last trip, Count Melo invited me out to his plantation, and, because he was my employer, I didn’t refuse. I did hope to get some good food for once though.” She let out a pained ha. “And that’s how I ended up in a carriage with a young Souran researcher of ancient architecture, who’d been recently titled the Lightning Bolt of the East.”

Dwayne blinked. “Lady Pol?”

“The same.” Montes grinned. “Luisa spent the whole ride regaling me with stories about the people who’d ruled before us, who’d built the magnificent cities whose bones we Vanurians and Sourans lived among. Enthralled, I kept asking her questions throughout the ride and through dinner, even talking over Count Melo at times, but afterwards, after the plates had been put away and after the party had adjourned to the lounge, Luisa turned to Count Melo asked him a question.

“‘Why do you need so many slaves?’”

Montes stepped away from the pile. “I... I was floored because I’d never even thought that question. I’d just taken the job and completed it as best I could. Count Melo had an answer of course. Can you guess what it was?”

“Ambersoul is dangerous for mages to harvest,” Dwayne said. “It explodes.”

“And since Vanuria has more mages and mage potentials than anywhere else in Markosia,” Montes’s voice deepened, “‘It would be too onerous for us landowners to test them all so we source work units from a place that naturally has a low rate of magical talent. As a bonus, it saves us the trouble of dealing with runaways.’” She shook her head. “When he said that, Lady Pol looked me right in the eyes and asked, ‘I’ve seen Souran Qe mages handle the substance without incident ,and Tuqu Xa mages have to carry it vast distances after buying it from our markets, and I know that your local mage families tend to those lineages. Surely, it’s safer to hire them. After all, if you missed a single Ri mage in your inspections, you’d lose your plantation.

“When Count Melo laughed that off and replied that untrained Ri mages aren’t that powerful, she said, ‘Well, imagine this. You’ve been taken to a faraway land against your will and then shackled, beaten, and spat upon for days, and now you’re taken to a strange forest and ordered to work day and night without rest and with barely any food. Now, imagine that your magic is literally tied to your emotions, that it grows stronger the more you feel, and when you feel the right things, it flares-”

“Wait.” Dwayne raised a hand. “What are you talking about? What does emotion have to do with it?”

Montes grinned. “You’ll get your turn. ‘When you feel the right thing, it flares up, feeding off that emotion. What would you do when you’ve got literal fire at your fingertips?’

“Count Melo retired to bed rather quickly after that, but I stayed, trying to grapple with the position I’d accepted. After a while, Luisa finished her reading and asked me if I would join her on a walk around the plantation. I hadn’t wanted to, but I had see what I was contributing to, and so I said yes.” Montes pulled a stone out of the pile and finally a sliver of red light cut into the alcove. “There.”

Suppressing a wince, Dwayne got to his feet, leaving Na’cch behind. He felt hollow, but the nausea had finally passed, and so he trudged over to the pile and started to dig. “Why did you tell me that?”

“To help you out.” Odette Montes smiled. “And I don’t want to keep digging.”

Dwayne helped her pull more stones off the pile. He’d known that Ri magic was fueled by emotion, but if each spell had to have the right emotion... “What did you see on your walk?”

“People.” Odette redoubled her efforts. “And clarity. In my heart, I’d always known that what I was doing was wrong, but I hadn’t avoided confronting it until then.” She glanced at Dwayne. “So, why are you here? I know you lied to Bart.”

Dwayne winced. “I wanted to make progress. We were stuck, getting nowhere with our experiments.”

“So you lied.”

“Yeah, I lied.” Dwayne ground his teeth. “I lied because I don’t want to feel this way anymore.”

“You know that frustration is normal, right?”

Dwayne blinked at Odette. “What?”

“Particularly for mages, trying to learn anything new is a trial.” Odette chuckled. “When Luisa gets frustrated, she always ends up throwing a tantrum because of it, and if I’m having a bad day too, we end up in the dumbest arguments where only Myers’s well-timed tea can calm us down. All because she was angry at herself.”

Dwayne’s eyes widened. “I’m angry.” It was so obvious, it was dumb. “And Ri is powered by emotion.” Leaving Odette to dig, he went over and picked up Na’cch, which thrummed to his touch. Before, when he’d met Lord Kalan, when he’d faced the dragon, he’d felt so many things all at once that the book had had its choice of what to respond to. Now, he’d give it exactly one thing, his anger.

At once, Na’cch trembled and sang out, “Ri’mwe’ut.”

Dwayne grinned. That was the complete version of the dragon’s breath spell. “Stand back.” As Odette complied, Dwayne held the anger close, let it suffuse his being and then aimed his fist at the pile of rock. “Ri’mwe’ut!”

***

With the armor in deliberate pursuit, Huan ran as hard as he could, the mask bouncing at his side. As corridors, and signs and bones went by in a blur, he knew that he had no idea where he was going but also that the armor wasn’t catching up. When he finally couldn’t hear it clanking behind him, he slowed a stop and leaned against a wall, his lungs shuddering with pain.

Over his own breathing, he listened. I don’t hear -

Clank. Clank. Although softened by distance, the armor’s footsteps were clear as a bell. Clank.

I thought it only protected that room! I have to…to.. Huan looked down. His right hand had already reached for Tiger’s mask. No! He yanked his hand away. No, I need a weapon. A real one.

Unfortunately, the only weapons he’d seen aside from his own shattered sword, were either buried or clenched in the armor’s gauntlets. It was unfortunate that however the dead had died, it hadn’t been while armed. If he couldn’t fight, he had to escape.

But there’s no way… Huan rubbed the back of his neck. The kid! Where had he come from? Huan’s wanderings and subsequent flight had reveal nothing but blocked corridors, but there was one place he’d avoided. He just had to get past the armor to get to it.

Clank.

Time to go. Huan put the armor at his back and matched pace with it, taking advantage of the slow pace it preferred going slow when it couldn’t see its target and hoping it was following the path he took and didn’t take shortcuts. He retraced his steps, using the signs on the ceiling to guide him back to the forge. The armor was hadn’t caught up to him.

Swallowing a ha of relief, Huan moved to search the room. Did the kid come in from that way? He walked along the outside of the room and had just reached the forge when-

Clank. The armor emerged from the nearest corridor and placed a hand on its sword hilt.

Strangling a curse, Huan dove out of the way of a sword slash that neatly bisected an anvil. He rolled to his feet and fled back into the corridors. How did it catch up?

He slowed and listened for the armor’s pursuit. When he heard it, he started walking again, pausing only to wrench his hand away from the mask. Now was not the time for the beast and its need to take fights he couldn’t win. What is wrong with me? Why do I keep reaching for it?

Clank. The armor rounded the corner ahead of Huan.

How? Huan turned on his heel and dashed the other way, not bothering to wait for the armor to attack. Again he reached the forge and, not wasting time, vaulted over anvils and benches to the door next to the collapsed corridor, the only thing he hadn’t passed through. He tried to open it and it didn’t budge, but he was certain now this had to be the way out. All he had to do was pick the lock and he’d be out of this place. He looked the door over. It was made of ancient pale wood and had an equally ancient lock, an intricately decorated thing worth a king’s ransom, but locks were locks. He could handle it. He reached for his hip and found the mask. He hadn’t brought his lock picks.

Clank.

Whimpering, Huan around. The armor had entered the forge and was already in the center of the room. All the other corridors were either behind it or blocked. Huan’s hand tightened on the mask. No. He tried to convince himself to let go.

Clank.

No, I just got free!

Clank.

I just need to get out of here, grab Mei, and I’ll be free!

Clank. The armor had closed the distance, placed a hand on its sword.

Damn it! Huan pulled Tiger’s mask off his belt and tried to unwrap it, but his trembling hands dropped it. As it hit the floor, Huan looked up. The armor had shifted its weight onto its front foot. It was going to strike.

The corridor next to Huan exploding, send stone and armor flying across the forge.

Not letting this chance go by, Huan snatched up the mask, pulled his scarf off it, and looked at it. That explosion, probably Dwayne’s, had only knocked the armor. It was already picking itself back up. He could still contribute but…

Fear was unbearable.

Helplessness was unbearable.

Dying was unbearable.

Huan put on Tiger’s Mask. As it sealed itself to his face, sensations - the crackling of the fire deep in the forge, the salty taste of sweat, the strange tang of magic, the armor’s glittering eyes - flooded the thief, who stepped aside and let Tiger come forth.

With a roar, Tiger charged the armor, who shifted its weight onto its back foot. Seeing that, Tiger slid right, let the down slash pass by, then grabbed the armor’s arm and twisted, pulling it to the ground. The armor’s free hand grabbed Tiger’s throat, but Tiger drove his fingers into the space between helmet and chestplate, where he found soft yielding flesh. Screaming, the armor flung Tiger away and then got up, one sword raised. It tried to draw its second sword, but it was gone.

Behind the armor, Tiger flourished his new weapon. It was lighter than it looked and had a strange buzzy feel to it. The armor whirled around and bristled at Tiger, angry at the theft.

“Huan!”

The mage? Ignore. Tiger placed the sword blade between itself and the armor and started to circle. The armor did the same, its rage sending shivers through its body. Ah good.

“Fascinating, I think he’s growing actual fur.”

The archer? Ignore.

“What? How?”

“I have no idea.”

Under the mask, Tiger licked its chops. Up until now the armor had been more like a force of nature than a person, just a thing impersonally cutting down its opponets, but now he’d gotten under its skin. Once again, Tiger flourished the sword. “I’ve handled better.”

“Asshsa!” The armor charged, its sword held high.

Tiger blocked the down slash, parried the following up slash, pushed back the armor with a shoulder tackle, and then stabbed at the armor’s feet when it stumbled. Leaping, the armor evaded the attack, kicked Tiger away, and then planted both feet on the ground, the air crackling as it leaned forward.

“Huan, listen, Huan!”

“That’s clearly not working. You’ll need to be more emphatic.”

“What? Are you… No, I might hit him.”

The crackling grew louder and the scent of storms filled Tiger’s nose. The blinding attack was coming. He rushed forward, hoping to interrupt it or divert it. Last time that attack had drained him, leaving the thief to run away.

“Ri’mwe’ut!” A fireball cannoned into the armor, an arrow whipped by Tiger’s head, and a gust of wind took him off his feet and slammed him into the far wall.

The beast faded and Huan came to. “What...what just happened?” He stared at the strange sword in his hand. “How’d I get this?”

“Get up.” Dwayne picked his way over a mess of stone and anvils. “We need your help.”

“Oh, okay.” Huan got to his feet and staggered. He was exhausted, as if he’d climbed a dozen fortress walls. Worse, the beast was back although it was resting now. Tentatively, he slid the mask off his face and let it rest against his chest.

When he’d made his way to them, Odette took one look at him and then nodded to Dwayne. “Bolster him.”

Dwayne’s face went tense.

Huan asked, “Sorry what?”

“Just… stay still.” Dwayne pulled out a vial full of blue liquid out of his pocket and placed a hand on Huan’s chest. “Qesuyit.”

Huan’s battered shirt became shiny, reflecting forge’s red light.

“Now,” Odette pushed Huan into position between her and the armor, “do what you just did.”

Huan glanced at the armor, which was getting up once more. I don’t have it in me. “That door leads out.” Huan pointed. “A kid came out of there.”

Odette frowned. “A goat?”

“I think he means a child.” Dwayne squared up next to Huan. “Let’s take this thing down and get through that door.”

As if it understood them, the armor limped its way to a spot between them and the door, and raised its sword. At this, the beast stirred, its growl rumbling in Huan’s throat.

Huan coughed. You’re not doing that again.

The beast licked its chops. You liked it.

“Huan?” Dwayne raised his eyebrows. “You there?”

Technically. Huan set his jaw. “Yeah.” He took the strange sword in a two handed grip. “Let’s do this.”