Chapter 2

  Torsk was glad to be back on the road. Azry had given him a good meal and a heading. Oskyr was likely at Montplier by his reckoning.

  "Danger ahead. I smell adrenaline."

  Torsk flinched at the voice in his mind. What are you on about now? Torsk was unsure if this experience was real or if the long years had finally seen him crack.

  "I smell aggressive men up ahead. Are we ready?" Torsk looked ahead from atop Byjorn, his Ostrisaur. The road was getting darker as dusk turned to night, and he planned to ride till sunup. Sleep seemed to elude him more since the voice arrived.

  I don't see anything, Torsk thought.

  "Yes, but what does friend smell?"

  Torsk sniffed the wind and caught something: stale sweat and hot breath. He felt a sensation that made him grip the handle of his blade, a sense of danger that had kept him alive despite the universe's best efforts.

  Soon, three riders appeared.

  "Open fire now. I'll help."

  Torsk recoiled. I am not attacking strangers just on your say-so, creature. They might be aggressive, but they will pass with no trouble.

  Torsk felt the thing….do something, it was between a chuckle and a shrug, he supposed.

  His hand tingled where the thing had first bonded to him. He had been collecting the sample when some of the liquid from that strange pool had formed a small needle and shot into his hand. It had shouted for him to return the sample, but he fled and shut the voice out. Days later, it returned and hadn't quit. He had to find Oskyr, because if half the things this thing stated were true...it would make the last war look like a practice run.

  He waved at the strangers as they approached, then his eyes focused on hands inside jackets and tense postures.

  "See?" The thing mocked.

  Torsk sighed, hearing pistols shuffling out of holsters. He drew and leapt feom his saddle to a crouch on his mount's back, sending the pistol's single bullet crashing through one's skull. Then, he leaped onto the nearest man's mount and sliced his head clean off. The man's gun went off just as his hand went lifeless. The remaining man shook as he fired wildly above Torsk's shoulder. Torsk sent him to the ground with a kick. Then, he kneeled over him, blade to throat.

  "Why did you waylay me, stranger?" Torsk felt an uneasy eagerness from the presence in his mind.

  "It ain't personal, just a job. We were told a man was headed this way on an Ostrisaur. We were told to kill him. It was a government official. Said it was personal." Torsk shoved his blade into the man's throat. That could only be Lord Elrey, but how did he know where he was? No matter, it just meant roads were off the menu tonight.

  Azry had said the local lords had been making plays left and right, settling old scores in the dead of night. Torsk had just hoped his reputation had died out since he'd been gone in the frontier so long.

  "Maybe friend should feel flattered? Many males find him to be a rival, even though you have no subjects."

  Torsk laughed. "You're a fan of silver linings then?" He got only a feeling of confusion. "Never mind, long ride ahead. Just keep that nose peeled for more aggressive humans."

  After the adrenaline died down, and he was moving across the wide, flowery plain at speed, Torsk reflected. He couldn't have moved like he just did, even back in his youth. Whatever had happened had affected more than his mind. He felt stronger, faster, and his vision was far sharper. He supposed he should feel grateful that such a boon had landed in his lap, but he disliked the thing's seeming desire for conflict and its prideful nature. It spoke of something ill-natured, as well as unnatural.

  "Hmph, and you don't hear me calling you such things."

  Torsk felt a cold chill. Are my thoughts not my own, creature? There was a pause.

  "Were they ever yours, human?"

  Torsk scoffed. "Enough for now, just...let me enjoy my ride."

  At daybreak, Torsk left a dark wood behind and came to Montplier, a city on the Skylands cliff. He hadn't seen the Skyvoid in a long while. The land ended in a jagged edge, and beyond were floating chunks of metal, rock, and debris. Swirls of clouds were being pulled along by magnetic and gravitational fluxes. Bubbles of life-giving water rose from the infinite depths below, sustaining the Skylands. The infinite void felt, as it always did, like it might consume Torsk's being whole the longer he stared.

  The trip had been uneventful since the failed assassination. Torsk was reluctant to leave the wilds behind for the bustling port city below, but this trip had taken him three days. He hadn't slept and had eaten little. His newfound abilities had allowed him to endure this discomfort, but he'd need a bed and a proper meal. Hopefully, it had closed the gap between him and Oskyr. It was likely the man had bought passage on an airship, and Torsk would be forced to track where it was heading. As he approached the gate, he saw heightened security measures and caught a tense nature to the air.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  "This city smells...afraid," Torsk's passenger said.

  "Alright, old man, papers. Montplier is closed to general traffic unless you have proper..." Torsk cut him off, flashing his old seal. "Uh, house name, my lord?" Torsk looked off in the distance. "House Devry." The soldier froze. "Alright...you think I'm a fool? Then show me that seal again." An older guard took interest now as well. "Good sirs, surely you've heard one lived. Now, I would like to pass, if you please." Torsk hated this. Every time he went anywhere, he dragged around the weight of his dead house. This chain held him in the clutches of grief, threatening to swallow him whole every time he lingered. So he didn't. He held the seal up and averted his eyes. "Lord Torsk Devry, isn't it?" said the older Lieutenant. "Damned shame what happened. All those who signed the order should have been left to hang, if you ask me. You here for the meeting?" A merchant behind him began to complain. "Meeting? No, I'm looking for an old friend." The lieutenant nodded. "Well, be aware, a lot of lords have come to town. Looks like something might be afoot in the Yhevlands, if you ask me. Watch yourself, and the unseen be at your back, milord." Torsk nodded as he entered the chaotic shuffle of the city.

  Torsk rode through the frantic hustle and bustle. His passenger always went very quiet when they got into a crowded room or street. It felt like its senses might be overloaded. The sensation put Torsk on edge as well. He pulled up to a stable at a place called The Hags Foot, a reliable dockside tavern for gossip and locating cheap passage through the Skyvoid.

  "A night in the stable will be extra tonight, good sir," said a stocky man who appeared to be cleaning his filthy hands with a filthier rag.

  "Alright, and what is the cost?" Torsk said with a sigh.

  "Forty if you've got coin, 300 if you're carrying paper." Torsk handed the man a bag of 25 ornate coins. "Those were minted in Umberfeld; they'll be worth more than whatever passes for currency these days." The man looked it over. "Aye, I did say forty coins though. Got at least ten more for me?" Torsk stared at the man blankly. "How much for a room and a meal?" The man blinked. "Uh, thirty more of those coins should do it?" Torsk handed over the money. "Seen this man around here at all? Nobleman, doctor, traveling with three others?" The man squinted at the picture quizzically, then gave Torsk an odd look. "Can't say I have, stranger, but ask around the inn. Could be someone else knows." With that, he took his calloused skin and squared head out of sight toward the back.

  The tavern smelt of stew and body odor in a not unpleasant way. The tang of ozone clung to sailors, and there was a Fluxmancer drunkenly causing metal cups to float midair. Music was lively but didn't impede the many hushed conversations in the various booths. Torsk grabbed a bowl of stew and some ale. After a brief scan of the room, he saw a familiar face, and the loudest voice in the room.

  Lord Baern had a habit of dressing in common clothes and visiting the local taverns; he was not one for the pomp and ceremony of noble life. An alcoholic of lifelong proportions, but a man of warm heart, and better yet, loose lips.

  Torsk walked over and was greeted with an explosive, "By all the gods alive or dead! It's the man whom death itself has scorned! What brings you back to the world of the living, you old badger? Come to speak in defense of the Yhaevlanders? Didn't know you kept up on politics living out in the roughs n' all." He gave a slight belch and wobbled, excusing himself from his compatriots to speak with Torsk.

  "The Yhaevlanders? Why would I need to speak for them?" Baern looked perplexed as he swayed on his feet. "You mean you haven't heard? Talk is they've built a weapons factory in secret out in the Shattered Wastes. They're using the smog to hide their operations. There's a meeting here about whether to strike before they do. They think they're plotting retaliation against the united houses of the accords for what happened to their nation in the shattering. After you spent so much time doing charity work in Yhaevland, I thought maybe you were here on their behalf." Torsk reeled. He had spent years living there, trying to do some good. The shattering, the event that had taken his home, had taken half of Yhaevland too. What was left was ravaged in the fallout, smog, and radiation sickness. The young lord of Yhaevland had exiled him as a gift for years of service, since he saw how trying to help was just twisting the knife in Torsks heart. The boy was wiser than his years; he'd once said to Torsk, "To live so close to death can be a blessing to those who can see it." The young man now ruled that area and had done well putting it back together. Now the other lords were considering an attack?

  "Where did this information come from?" Torsk asked Baern.

  "About the possible threat? The Southern Skyland Coalition confirmed the Argadian Houses' secret service intel a month prior. They've built docks and factories in the asteroid fields. It appears they have far more weaponry than was let on. It has the lords nervous for good reason."Baern took a swig of his drink and looked into the empty cup forlornly.

  Torsk sighed; he had to keep focused. "I didn't know about all this. I actually came looking for this man." Torsk raised the sketch of Oskyr. "Medical professional, nobleman, asks a lot of questions?" Baern adjusted the spectacles on his round, rosy-cheeked face; his mustache wiggled thoughtfully. "Yes, that man was peddling wares to the lords at one of the soirees. He had beautification ointments, and asked a lot of questions too. Name was...Missikier, I think?"

  "Can you tell me where to find him?" Torsk asked, trying to hide his impatience.

  "Well, he made a point to show up at most of the meetings, missed the last one though. Maybe when you swing by tomorrow's debate, he might be around?" At Baern's question, Torsk's stomach sank and his hand twitched. This meant he'd have to dip his toes into something he'd avoided like the plague: politics. Also, Lord Elrey was likely in attendance, and things would not stay civil.

  Torsk thanked Baern and ordered him a drink. The old lord sang as he carried it back to his table. Maybe he should ask at the docks if Oskyr passed through, hopefully avoid this meeting. He doubted luck was with him in this.

  Torsk slept soundly on a mattress that had been seemingly stuffed with stones. To his stiff back it was more pleasant than hours in the saddle. An Ostrisaur might be able to run at speed for a good two days but a human...if that was even what he was, he had been changing. Torsk peeled the glove off and looked at his resin covered hand. It hadnt moved beyond his forearm and though it looked like his hand was covered in something from a bog it felt just like it always had.

  "What are you?" He had asked his passenger this a few times and as always was met with a confused feeling and a curt

  " Im not sure what friend means?"

  Torsk sighed and rolled over slipping the glove back on. He drifted off and as always his dreams were filled with the sounds of thunder and shattering stone.