Utgar frowned, the old sense of fear mixing with anger. He balled one hand into a fist, squeezing it tight, forcing his anger under control. In the Volcarren, he wouldn’t have allowed this. He would have either hid from his enemies, or destroyed them. Here he could do neither.

He took a breath and sat, forcing his anger to cool. His hand relaxed. “Tell me from the beginning,” he said. “What exactly did they do?”

Kirav looked up. His face was a bloody mess, and one wing was broken. He stood with his weight on one foot, the other just barely touching the ground.

“They followed me,” he said. “Almost the instant I left Helsng.”

“How many?”

“At least six soldiers. I saw them take off the moment I flew over the walls. They weren’t wearing armor – they were ready for a long flight. They were waiting for me, Utgar, I’m sure of it.”

“Or someone,” Vydar said from Utgar’s side. “They guessed we would send someone to the Volcarren.”

Utgar nodded, anger bubbling insolently within him.

“I tried to lose them close to the ground,” Kirav went on, “but… well it’s perfectly flat out there. Nothing to hide behind, no shadows. They caught up with me, and… there wasn’t anything I could do.”

“So they beat you, and then left you?”

“They told me to go back to Helsng,” Kirav said. “They said they’d be watching, and if I made for the Volcarren, they’d come back to finish the job. So I came back. I didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry, Utgar. I failed.”

Utgar waved his words away. “You did all that could have been expected: you tried. Go, Kirav. Tend to your injuries, get some rest. Vydar and I will discuss what to do next.”

Kirav bowed his head, and backed out of the tent, allowing a single ray of early morning sunlight – red – to enter, before the tent flap fell back in place, plunging them again into semi-darkness.

Vydar turned to Utgar. “I know you’re wondering the same thing,” he said.

Utgar nodded slowly. “Why did they let him return? Why not kill him? We would never have known.”

“Or torture him for the location of the Wellspring?” Vydar said. “They must have guessed where he was headed. They could have found it, sealed it, and we wouldn’t have known that either.”

Utgar forced his anger under control. There was something here they were missing. He couldn’t afford to let his judgement be clouded by emotion. “Maybe that’s it,” he said slowly. “They must want us to know. Nothing else makes sense. They want us to know that they stopped Kirav. But… why?”

Vydar was silent for a moment. Then: “They want us in a corner. They want us to know we can’t reach the Wellspring in the Volcarren.” He turned to Utgar. “If they had killed or captured Kirav, we wouldn’t know. We’d still think the Wellspring could be reached. Now we know it can’t, and…”

“And Jandar’s on his way,” Utgar finished grimly. It was true: he had received word of Jandar’s request for a meeting only an hour ago. He was due any moment.

“They mean to demand something,” Vydar growled. “They have us right where they want us: powerless, all options removed, and now Jandar will arrive with the only way forwards.” He let out his breath in a low hiss. “He’ll try to make a deal, Utgar. He’ll try to force you into something. Don’t let him. We still—”

“I’m aware of the situation,” Utgar said wearily. “I know my priorities. I do not intend to compromise them.”

Vydar frowned. “But if—”

“Jandar!” a voice called from outside the tent. “Regent of Helsng and ambassador of the Emperor!”

A moment later, the tent flaps were thrust aside, held by two soldiers, and Jandar ducked inside. The tent flaps closed behind him – he was alone.

“Utgar,” he said, nodding to him. “Vydar.” He sat on the stool Utgar had requested, facing them.

“You said you wished to discuss things of importance,” Utgar said. “Speak.”

Jandar sat with the straight-backed posture of a soldier. He wore his breastplate, ornamented with blue and gold, but no other armor. “I dislike politics,” he said, “so I’ll get straight to the point: Neither of us want war. I’m getting too old for this sort of thing. All I want is to stay on my land in peace. And you, Utgar, want something quite similar, I believe. I know you didn’t ask for this rebellion. Unfortunately, the rebels and those who would join them see you as a symbol of hope, perhaps even a leader.”

There was no threat in the words; Jandar spoke with the simple efficiency and tone of a man conveying unfortunate facts. Jandar shook his head. “We have to do what we can to prevent things from escalating further, Utgar. I’m sure you and I are united in this. We have to stop this rebellion before it gets any worse.”

“How?” Vydar said, his eyes narrowed.

Utgar remained silent, watching Jandar.

Jandar clasped his hands and leaned forwards. “The rebels respect you,” he said, looking at Utgar. “And the people here, they practically revere you. You have sway with them, intentionally or not. Use it. Say you want peace. Denounce the rebellion.”

Neither Utgar nor Vydar spoke. There was more to come, Utgar was sure of it.

Jandar straightened. “Such an act wouldn’t stop the revolts elsewhere, of course,” he said. “But it could prevent one here, or at least delay it significantly. Surely you see the wisdom of this.”

“I see,” Utgar said slowly, “that you want me to do this. To denounce the rebellion. Quell the unrest for you. You are right: I could possibly stop a rebellion from forming in this city.” He fixed Jandar with a stare. “But why should I help the Empire?”

“You’d be helping yourself,” Jandar said. “You want safety for yourself and your daughter. I can provide that. Denounce the rebellion, and I will ensure that whatever comes, you and your daughter will not be a part of it. You have my word.”

“Your word,” Utgar repeated slowly. “I cannot trust the word of the Empire. You and I both know why.”

The three of them watched each other for a moment.

“If it was I who stole the Wellspring water,” Jandar said, a frown appearing on his face, “you surely cannot blame me. You gave the Empire no choice. You could have demanded anything, and we would have had to give it to you. You showed me that when you freed Leran.

“If indeed the Empire stole the Wellspring water, they did so only to level the field. Now we can negotiate with equal terms. Besides, whoever stole the water could have slain you at the same time, I’m sure. But they didn’t.”

“And this means we should trust you?” Vydar spat. “Because you stayed your blade, for fear of causing a riot?”

“No,” Jandar admitted. “But you should consider our motives. If we had wanted you dead, you would have been. All we want – all we’ve ever wanted – is peace. The same as you, Utgar.”

Utgar turned, and beckoned Vydar to lean closer. “He ordered the water taken,” he whispered so that Jandar couldn’t hear. “I don’t doubt that for a second. But what he says is true: that water was stored right next to where I and Runa sleep. If they reached the water, they could have reached us.”

“You don’t mean to trust him?” Vydar whispered back, incredulous.

“Of course not,” Utgar said. “But perhaps his words should be considered. There’s no denying that by denouncing the rebellion publicly, I could possibly prevent it here. At least for a time. I have no intention of letting him ‘protect’ us, but we might at least gain enough time to escape this situation.”

“No,” Vydar said, “you’d be far worse off than you are now.”

Utgar looked at him questioningly.

“If you denounce the rebellion,” Vydar said, “you’ll be sealing your fate. We have less than a thousand men, and nearly all of those are committed to helping the people here. If you denounce the rebellion, you’ll alienate all of them: laborers, Volcarrens, Vel… your guards will leave. Then the Empire can just walk in and take you if they want. You need those people, Utgar. You can’t afford to alienate them.”

Utgar looked down. Vydar was right. He couldn’t trust the Empire, and the only thing keeping them from him right now was the loyalty of the people of Helsng. He couldn’t afford to lose that. But then… did he have another choice? He needed to prevent the rebellion somehow.

Utgar considered. Jandar hadn’t mentioned the Wellspring. And the soldiers who had ambushed Kirav hadn’t even asked him any questions. Clearly, the Empire thought it could find the Wellspring on its own and seal it. They didn’t him anymore. The only leverage Utgar had was this. The rebellion, and his power over it.

Could Utgar forsake that? Could he denounce the rebellion? It was the only kind of deal Utgar could make to prevent a war. He grimaced. What kind of life would that be? He would have alienated the only people here who showed him kindness. Even his own Volcarrens would turn on him. He and Runa would be alone, friendless, in a hostile country.

And what of the Empire? Would they insist the Volcarrens return to the Wasteland? Utgar would have no power to prevent that. The Volcarrens would resist, the Empire would use force… it would be a slaughter. And he and Runa, they wouldn’t be able to escape. They would be involved.

There was no easy way out. The only way – the only way – Utgar could be sure of peace, lay within the vial around his neck. If he could get to the Wellspring here in Helsng and unseal it… then he could do what he should have done from the beginning: demand peace, whatever it took.

Doing that would turn the Empire against him. But perhaps that had always been inevitable. There was no reason to turn the people of Helsng against him as well.

He looked up at Jandar.

“I cannot denounce the rebellion,” he said. “Doing so would put me in a precarious situation – though I’m sure you already knew that.”

Jandar’s face conveyed nothing.

“As for your offer of protection,” Utgar said, “I must also refuse. I have seen how you treat the people in this city who are under your ‘protection’, and I have no desire to subject myself to the same rule.”

Jandar sighed, and stood. “Very well,” he said. “My offer still stands, should you reconsider. But if you don’t, and this rebellion happens, I hope you’ll remember that you could have prevented it. Every life lost will be on your hands, Utgar. Remember that. Whether or not you trust me… what happens next is your doing.”

He turned, and left.

Runa emerged from behind the partition which split the tent. Utgar wasn’t surprised to see her; she had listened to every meeting he had held in the tent, unseen in the back portion. He wanted her to know what was happening.

He sighed. “What do we do, Vydar?” he said. “It seems that every path to peace I consider leads instead to war.”

“We should have acted when we had the Wellspring water,” Vydar said. “But now that it’s gone… I don’t know. If there was a way we could reach the Wellspring here… but that keep is full of Imperial soldiers. We’ll have to bide our time. Wait for an opportunity.”

Utgar nodded. He didn’t like it, but it was the best plan they had.

“What about Haukeland?” Runa said, her voice small. She approached Utgar and put a soft hand on his arm. “Couldn’t we just… go there? I know the scouts haven’t returned, but…”

“They won’t return,” Utgar said wearily. “Haukeland was never an option, Runa. It was just a ploy by the Empire to gain them time, so that they could find a way to steal the water. That was why the deal was so one-sided. I have no doubt that the scouts I sent are at the bottom of the ocean now. If they even made it to a boat in the first place.”

“Couldn’t we go there anyway?” Runa said. “Or anywhere for that matter? Just… get away from here, from the rebellion.”

“We can’t leave,” Vydar said. “The Empire won’t let us – Kirav just demonstrated that.”

Utgar nodded, leaning back in the chair, looking at his daughter and wishing she didn’t have to consider such things. “We can’t run,” he said. “Neither can we hide. We could never go unnoticed in this land, with our skin and wings. Our only option is to wait for an opportunity to gain access to the keep.”

“Could we just surrender?” Runa said.

Utgar looked at her.

“I mean,” she said, “If we can’t run, and we don’t want to start a war, maybe we should just… surrender. Then we won’t be involved.”

“That would be no different than denouncing the rebellion,” Vydar said. “It would be worse, in fact. We’d be putting ourselves in the power of the Empire.”

Utgar nodded. “I can’t do that,” he said. “I can’t trust the Empire, Runa. Besides, you’ve seen how they treat their subjects. How much worse do you think they would treat their prisoners?”

Runa bit her lip and looked at the floor, silent.

“I’m sorry, Runa,” Utgar said. “There’s only one option. I think we all know that.” He pulled the vial from beneath his shirt and looked at it. The few drops of water within caught the dim lantern-light from overhead, sparkling. Only enough to be Valkyrie for a moment. Enough to unseal a Wellspring.

“I fear how the Empire will react,” he said.

“They can react however they like,” Vydar said, the light reflected in his dark eyes. “It won’t matter: you’ll be Valkyrie again. You can demand peace. You’ll get your wish, Utgar: no war. Maybe the Empire will need to change its laws, maybe the Emperor will have to be deposed – I don’t know. But with that Wellspring, you will have what you want.”

Runa looked up at Utgar. “I thought you said we couldn’t do that,” she said. “You said it would be a life of fear, the threat of assassins in the night…”

“Which is why I didn’t want to consider it,” Utgar said. He put his hand over hers, which still rested on his arm. “I’m sorry, Runa. The Empire has left me no other choice. I’ll take a life of fear over a life of war. This is the only way.”

Runa nodded, though her eyes were wide.

“Don’t worry,” Utgar said, drawing her close. She leaned her head against his shoulder. A familiar, soft pressure. “We will have peace. We’ll need to figure out a way to get in the keep. It may take some time, and it won’t be easy, but we will have peace. I promise you.”

He looked down, and Runa looked up into his eyes, and then nodded.

“Peace,” she whispered.

There was a charred scent in the air as Rehs washed. It assaulted him, strong and sharp, and he coughed, trying to rid his mouth of the taste.

The light was red. Usually at this hour, the light was golden, striking the side of the house and making the wood look young. Today it was red, and the home looked… sharp, somehow. Too sharp, like the wrong colors were brighter, and the shadows flatter.

The sky overhead was yellow. A sickly, pale, obscured kind of color, like it was infected. A sign of the fires of last night.

Rehs finished washing his arms in the bucket he had brought, and then, leaving the water blackened by soot, he jumped, snapping his wings down, propelling himself upwards.

Hot air slapped against his face as he rose. It was technically the beginning of winter, but there were no true seasons here in the south. The only thing which changed was the air – it was becoming dry, which didn’t help the smell of smoke and the feel of gritty ash.

And then it was gone. He broke through the haze which coated Helsng, his wings taking him far higher than he usually flew, and he breathed in his first breath of truly clean air.

It seemed brighter up here, and the sky was definitely bluer. Rehs held himself steady, beating his wings to remain aloft. Then he looked down.

Through the yellowish haze, he could make out the entire city. Plumes of smoke indicated where the fires had been, gray clouds curling up from over twenty different points. More than half were in the Maze, and from his view, Rehs could tell which houses they were.

Yen, Eres, Dar, Jyre… all Imperial sympathizers who had unwisely chosen to live in the Maze. A large home in the eastern section of the Maze was also surrounded by smoke, but the house itself seemed undamaged. Rehs looked closer, and scowled as he recognized the building. Eten.

Eten was the aging patriarch of a line of traitorous bounty hunters. He had been a worker once, a farmer like them. Then he had bought his freedom, tried hunting escaped workers, and found that he liked it. Ever since, he had taught his sons and daughters the same hateful work.

And he had built a home here, in the Maze, as if to taunt the laborers, a reminder of what would happen if they ran. Geren was one of his sons. Rehs smiled at that. He had heard Geren had run into two of Einar’s rebels, and not faired well.

It looked like the rebels had tried to burn Eten’s home, but Rehs could see soldiers standing guard outside of it. They must have been forced to retreat, casting aside their torches and lanterns. That was where the smoke was coming from.

Beyond the Maze, smoke rose from the Docks. Rehs leaned forward and snapped his wings back, propelling himself in that direction. As he skimmed the smoke which hung over the city, he could make out what had been burned at the Docks: ships.

Two had been destroyed completely, their hulks still smoking. The rest had been badly damaged, the sails and rigging completely burned away, the decks and sides blackened and charred. None of those ships would be going anywhere soon.

Rehs felt a sense a dark satisfaction. The laborers had done well last night. He only wished he could have helped them… G’shar had kept a close eye on him, and he had been unable to slip away.

The shallow waters beside the docks, just beyond where the ships were moored, seemed to be full of people. More were on the docks themselves, a vast crowd milling and churning. Imperials, hoping to escape. Rehs dove, holding his breath as he dropped back into the haze, and landed on the docks, near the Windchaser.

It had survived, mostly, but it was still damaged from the last fires. Most of the wood was charred, and quite a bit of it still needed to be replaced. The sail lines were worn as well. The boat was far from seaworthy.

“Rehs! Over here!”

Rehs looked for the source of the voice, and finally found it: Yesen, waist-deep in the water, a ways from the docks, beckoning Rehs to join him. Rehs frowned, but leapt out over the water, his wings keeping him aloft just long enough to make it to Yesen. He landed with barely a splash, the water going up nearly to his chest.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “I thought you needed help with the Windchaser.”

“I do,” Yesen said, “but the repairs won’t matter if we can’t leave.” He lifted something out of the water. “Nets,” he said grimly.

They were crudely made – fishing nets knotted with shreds of old canvas bags and other scraps of rough cloth. They would still be effective at stopping a boat though – even one with the shallow draw of the Windchaser.

“Rebels?” Rehs guessed. He remembered Einar had specifically mentioned placing nets and spikes in the water. The idea was probably to hamper supplies and news coming and going from Helsng, and to cause panic amongst the Imperials who were now trapped. But it also meant Yesen was stuck until the water could be cleared.

Yesen nodded grimly. “The soldiers have got us all combing the water, pulling them out,” he said. He jerked his thumb to a nearby patch of water, in which there was a growing pile of refuse – broken nets, snapped poles – whatever the rebels had used to stop the boats. “I could use your help, Rehs.”

Rehs set to work, feeling through the water with his legs, since it was too deep and murky to reliably see through. It was difficult work. More than once, his legs got tangled in a net, and Yesen had to help him out.

G’shar was there, trawling through the water in a similar fashion a distance away. Rehs alternated between watching him and watching the soldiers on the docks, and with every glance, he felt anger grow within him. Finally, he ran into a pole he had been unable to see, lodged firmly in the riverbed, and threw down the net he had been carrying in annoyance, massaging his side.

Yesen glanced over at the splash.

“I’m fine,” Rehs said before he could ask.

Yesen waded over and fished the net Rehs had thrown out of the water. “No,” he said, handing it back to him. “I’ve seen that expression before. Out with it, Rehs. Whatever is bothering you, you’ll feel better.”

Rehs glared at him. “It’s just the Empire,” he said, grabbing hold of the pole and wrenching it out of the mud. “They’re making us do this, when we could be repairing the Windchaser instead.”

Yesen spread his hands. “I couldn’t leave even if she was brand new,” he said. “Not with this stuff in the way.” He pulled up a section of net and threw it on the nearby pile. He turned back to Rehs. “You know that though. That’s not what’s bothering you.”

Rehs glanced at G’shar.

“Ahh,” Yesen said slowly, following his gaze. “A disagreement, I’m guessing?”

“Just the one,” Rehs growled, plunging his hands into the water and coming up empty.

“About the rebellion?”

Rehs nodded.

“Let me guess,” Yesen said, staring into the sky as though it was a mirror which could reflect Rehs’ thoughts for him. “You want to join the rebels, and your father wants to leave with me. Something like that?”

“More than that,” Rehs said with a resigned sigh. “I don’t just want to fight, Yesen. It’s my duty to fight. This is my freedom the rebels are fighting for. I can’t very well just leave.”

“And your father doesn’t understand that?”

Rehs shook his head, glowering at G’shar, who was well out of earshot. “I’ve told him,” he said. “I’ve tried to explain. But he just talks about how it’s dangerous here and we need to leave.”

“Hmm,” Yesen said, reaching into the water and pulling out another section of net. “Sounds reasonable to me.”

Rehs glanced at him. “Which part? Him leaving or me fighting?”

“Both,” Yesen said, pulling a fish out of the net and pocketing it.

“Both?”

“Sure,” Yesen said, glancing up. His weathered face cracked into a grin at Rehs’ look. “You’re not your father, Rehs. The two of you have different priorities. You – You want freedom. You want to see the Empire overthrown. That much was obvious since the season you came with us on the Windchaser. For you, joining the rebellion is a duty.

“But your father… well, he’s your father. He’s the head of a family. For him, nothing is more important than keeping you all safe. That’s his duty.”

“But this rebellion is important,” Rehs said.

“He knows that,” Yesen said, fishing around for more net. “And he believes in the cause, Rehs. We all do. But his family is more important to him. Skies above, if I had a family, I’d want them as far away from here as possible.”

Rehs found a stake with his leg, and gripped it, trying to pull it free. He glanced at his father, a distance away. “Blast you, Yesen,” he said. Rehs had never been able to argue with the old fisher. It was like trying to argue with the sea itself. Yesen said what he believed, and somehow made it sound like indisputable fact.

The pole came free suddenly, and Rehs fell backwards.

Yesen chuckled, and pulled Rehs to his feet. “Don’t feel bad,” he said. “You’re hardly the first person to have a different idea of what’s important.” He handed Rehs the stake, and then began pulling out a thick rope from near his feet.

Rehs took the stake, and then paused, looking at it. It was good wood, about half as high as he was. The tip had been sharpened with a rough blade, formed into a point to puncture the bottom of boats trying to cross. It had been done hastily, probably in the darkness…

What am I doing? Rehs thought suddenly. Rebels had put that stake there. That was what Einar had commanded. Given his way, Rehs would have helped them. And now here he was, removing it.

“I’m glad you’re here, Rehs,” Yesen said, dislodging a sharpened pole as tall as he was. He threw it onto the pile. “And I don’t mean just helping with this or the Windchaser. I know what the rebellion means to you. And there will come a time to fight, of that I have no doubt. But right now… your father’s right. Your safety, your family’s safety… that’s what’s truly important. You being here, it means a lot. Both to me and your father.”

He clapped Rehs on the shoulder, and then began reeling in a length of net.

Rehs threw the stake he held onto the pile, feeling… what? Sickened? Frustrated? Simply angry?

He glanced at his father, a distance away. What was truly important? His father would say family was – himself, Aiiva, his mother. Yesen would agree. And of course they would be right. But there were more important things.

The rebellion wasn’t just the right thing to do; it was necessary. What had he told Taelord two nights ago? That he was doing this for his family? Well, he had meant that. He was doing it for his family. For all the families. For everyone on Valhalla. They all deserved to live free from the Empire. What was more important than that?

He looked around himself, at all the workers diligently combing through the water, undoing what had doubtless taken the rebels all night. Couldn’t they see what they were doing? The double standard they were clinging to?

“I have to go,” he said.

Yesen glanced up at him.

“I’m sorry,” Rehs said. “I just remembered something important I have to do.”

He left without another word, jumping straight out of the water, his wings propelling him upwards. Water streamed off of them as he rose up, over the Docks, through the haze, into the clear light.

He would help repair the Windchaser. But there was something wrong about undoing what Einar had commanded. That he couldn’t bring himself to do. His father could help the Empire undo the work of the rebels if he wanted. But Rehs wouldn’t.

When Taelord entered the storeroom, Fera was already lying down. He considered asking her again where she had been, but decided against it. She clearly didn’t want to tell him, she was safe, and he had more important things to discuss anyway, preferably before Veth and Scar-shoulder showed up.

“Mother,” he said tentatively, sitting beside her on his own bed. “It isn’t safe here anymore. The rebellion will start for real in the next few days, and Utgar doesn’t have the power to stop it. We need to flee, now.”

She turned onto her back and looked at him. “Where would we go?” she said after a moment.

“Anywhere,” Taelord said. “We might be able to leave with G’shar on the Windchaser. Or if there isn’t room, we’ll make for somewhere else… the Red Flats maybe.”

“And if we escape?” she said. “What then? Everyone around us will know who we are. We can’t disguise our Volcarren skin or wings. Word will get out, and the Empire will come for us.” She paused for half a heartbeat. “And if the Empire doesn’t,” she said, “then Utgar will.”

Taelord frowned. “You know?” he guessed.

“Of course I know,” she whispered. “All the Volcarrens know. Or guess, at least. They whispered about it on the Red Flats: you were with Utgar. You know where the Wellspring is.”

Taelord had never told her. It hadn’t been a secret, not really. He had just… never mentioned it. He probably had Ahnvad’s upbringing to thank for that: never solicit information which could get him into trouble.

“Maybe I could leave,” Taelord’s mother said. “Maybe I could stay hidden, and never be missed. But you? Neither the Empire nor Utgar would let you rest.”

“And if Utgar came with us?” Taelord said quietly.

She was silent, watching him.

“He doesn’t want a war,” Taelord said, “but he can’t stop it now. I could talk to Runa, and she could convince him to flee. They could join us.”

“The Empire would still hunt us,” she said. “Doubly so, if Utgar was with us.”

“Then we’d hide,” Taelord said. “Hide somewhere they’d never look. In the middle of a desert or the top of a mountain if we had to, but we would survive. And we’d be free. We could live there, just us, and finally be free.”

She looked at him for a moment. Beyond the door, Taelord thought he could hear G’shar and Syafa talking quietly. Their voices sounded worried.

“No,” Fera said.

Taelord looked at her.

She shook her head. “I lived that way once, when I was young. Struggling to survive, to find food in a harsh land, going hungry. I wouldn’t wish that upon you. And I doubt Utgar would wish it upon his daughter. I won’t live in a barren land again.”

“You’ll be living in a warzone if you stay,” Taelord said, frowning.

“Not if we join the Empire.” She gripped his arm to keep him from turning away. “Listen to me – listen, Taelord. The Empire has food. They have resources, men, land. If we help them, they’ll help us. If we escape with Utgar, maybe we make it, and maybe we can find freedom, but we’d be living a life of hardship. If we join the Empire, we could have everything we’ve ever dreamed of. Plenty of food, the comfort of a bed at night, a roof over our heads…”

“Mother,” Taelord said, “have you see what the Empire does to its subjects? These people are practically starving! They might have a roof, but in many ways they’re worse off than we were in the Volcarren. At least we could live our own way there, apart from the Empire. But here… why would the Empire treat us any different?”

“Because we have something they desire.”

Taelord watched her in the semi-darkness, silent.

“The Wellspring,” he guessed.

“The Wellspring.”

He turned away, pulling his arm from her grasp, and laid down on his bed.

“They’re searching for it, Taelord,” Fera said, sitting up on one elbow and facing him. “They want to seal it, not use it. You know where it is. You could tell them, and in return they’ll give us anything we want. Anything.”

Taelord turned his head and looked at her for a moment. He was ashamed to admit that he considered what she said. But then he shook his head. “No,” he said. “I can’t trust them. We can’t trust them, Mother. The Empire doesn’t care about deals or promises. They’ve shown that with Utgar already. Once they had the Wellspring, they could forget about us. Then we’d be nowhere, worse off than we are now.”

And besides, he thought, I wouldn’t do that to Runa. I couldn’t betray her like that.

“It’s our only option,” Fera said.

“It isn’t an option,” Taelord said firmly, turning back so he was looking at the ceiling. “I’ll talk to Runa tomorrow, and see if she can convince Utgar to come with us. We’re leaving as soon as possible.”

Fera didn’t reply. He heard her lie back down, but she said nothing. Instead, she rolled over onto her side, facing away from him.

He sighed, and closed his eyes. He would have to convince her. Escaping the war was going to be harder than he had thought.

---

Taelord was woken by a shout.

“Up! Everyone!” It was G’shar’s voice.

Taelord was on his feet, sword in his hands, in an instant. He glanced to his side, where a dark shape told him his mother was there, sitting up in her bed. Two more shadows sprang upright in the darkness – Veth and Scar-shoulder. They must have returned some time after Taelord fell asleep.

Taelord reached the door first and pulled it open.

“Fire,” Rehs said without preamble, rushing past.

“Where?” Taelord followed him through the door.

Light flickered and danced in the night, but it was not, as Taelord had feared, coming from G’shar’s home, but rather from a squat house a short distance away. The flames were still plenty close to feel the blast of their heat.

“Get buckets!” G’shar shouted, his silhouette flickering and distorting before the fire.

Taelord doubted it would make much difference. The entire home was on fire.

Syafa appeared in the doorway. “Here,” she said, handing a bucket with water to Taelord, and another to Rehs, who stood nearby. G’shar beckoned them forward, already holding two full buckets, and they charged after him.

The heat seared their skin. Taelord shielded his eyes with one hand, his skin feeling like it was about to peel away at the intense heat. He kept his gaze on the ground, only looking up when he began to see sparks.

The burning home was right before them. Taelord threw his bucketful of water at the raging flames, and saw it practically turn to vapor in the air.

“More!” G’shar shouted.

“It’s no use!” Taelord called. He grabbed G’shar by the arm. “It’s gone!” he said, shouting to make himself heard over the flames. “Focus on the surrounding homes. Keep them wet.”

G’shar looked back at the burning home, and seemed to realize that Taelord was right. “Focus on the neighboring houses!” he called. “Keep the fire from spreading!” Around them, the dark shapes of others took up the cry.

Taelord and Rehs dashed back, got more water from Syafa – Taelord guessed the house had a well – and rushed to help.

The night passed in a haze of burning light, heat, and smoke. Finally, after what felt like hours, the fire began to burn itself out, every nearby building having been doused with water to keep the flames from spreading. Soon, the fire flickered to such a low level that they could attack it directly, throwing water on the flames or beating it with blankets and empty sacks.

At long last, when the eastern edge of the sky was becoming streaked with red and gold, nothing was left of the fire but a blackened, smoking ruin. The house was gone completely, only a few stones from the fireplace left standing. The rest was ash and soot.

Taelord’s arms burned from carrying water all night, and his skin prickled uncomfortably at every slight breath of wind. The muscles in his legs were tight, his feet hurt, and his eyes stung. When at last the fire was out, he didn’t even bother washing himself. He staggered to his bed in the storeroom, and fell onto it, falling asleep instantly.

---

It seemed like only a short while later that Taelord was pulled – grudgingly – from sleep by voices. They weren’t shouts, but there was anger in them. They came from the main room. Judging that it must be midmorning at least, he pulled himself from his bed, and stumbled to the door.

Upon opening it, he saw the whole family sitting at the table. They all looked up, paused mid-conversation.

“Taelord!” Syafa said, rising from her seat and leading him to a spot on the bench beside Rehs. “I’m sorry, we didn’t mean to wake you.” She gave G’shar a reproachful look, and went to the fire, where – as always – something was cooking.

Taelord slumped forward, crossing his arms and leaning them on the table. He could barely keep his eyelids open. “The fire,” he said, his words slurred with sleep. “Whose house was it?”

“Elet’s,” G’shar said. “A tanner.”

“And a loyalist,” Rehs added.

G’shar shot him a look.

“It’s true,” Rehs said. “He doesn’t even deny it. I’m surprised it took the rebels this long to get to him.”

Syafa placed a bowl of some sort of cooked grain before Taelord, and handed him a wooden spoon. He began to eat without question, his mind waking up as the food slid down his throat.

“So that’s why his house was burned?” he asked. “Because he supported the Empire?”

“Probably,” G’shar said, sighing. He glanced at Syafa, who returned his look with worry.

“What?” Taelord said, looking between them.

“The homes of other loyalists, here in the Maze, were burned as well,” G’shar said. “More of them,” he added. “Elet’s was merely the closest to us. At least five were completely destroyed. Three died in the fires – two women and a little boy.”

Taelord felt his skin prickle with cold.

“And…” G’shar said, “I’ve seen people watching the house. People I know have joined the rebels.”

“You mean… You mean this house?” Taelord said. “You think we’ll be next?”

G’shar grimaced. “I shouldn’t have spoken of peace at Einar’s meeting,” he said, shaking his head. “It was a stupid thing to do. I’m already considered a sympathizer, simply because I haven’t openly expressed my support of the rebellion. And now, with the homes of loyalists being burned…”

Syafa crossed to him, looking worried.

Taelord glanced at Rehs, and saw him glowering at his breakfast. His arms, like Taelord’s, were singed and blackened.

“What do we do?” Taelord said, turning back to G’shar.

“We leave,” he said. “As soon as we can. I’m going to the Docks again, and Rehs, I want you with me. We’ll fix the Windchaser if we have to work all night. We leave tomorrow morning. We’ll make for one of the remote southern villages in Braunglayde. Crevcor, perhaps. It’s very isolated.”

Tomorrow morning. They were running out of time. Taelord would need to speak to Runa right after he was finished eating. “I’ll come with you if I can,” he said. “On the Windchaser.”

“We’ll be glad to have you,” Syafa said. “What about the others though? Veth…”

“They’re gone,” Rehs said from the other end of the table. “Both of them. They helped put out the fire, and then never came back.”

“You saw them?” G’shar said.

Rehs nodded grimly.

G’shar sighed. “They’ve joined the rebels then,” he said. “Found a bed somewhere more sympathetic to their cause, and less likely to burst into flame.” He stood. “Rehs,” he said, heading for the door.

“I need to clean up,” Rehs said, raising his arms, which were smudged with soot.

“Fine,” G’shar said. “Meet me at the Docks as soon as you’re done.” He hugged Syafa, and then left through the door, Rehs following him with a bucket of water.

Taelord finished his breakfast as Rehs closed the door. “Where’s Aiiva?” he asked, realizing she wasn’t there.

“Sleeping,” Syafa said. “She stayed up practically the whole night, worrying that we’d be next.”

Taelord guessed his mother was still sleeping as well. He stood as Syafa took his bowl, and pulled open the door to the storeroom.

All four beds were empty. Fera was gone. He had been so drowsy that he hadn’t noticed her absence when he rose. He felt a sudden fear. Where was she?

Despite the fact that Utgar never confirmed that he had lost the Wellspring water, everyone in Helsng seemed to know by the end of the day. There was only one reason the healings would stop, and those who had been there, and seen Utgar’s failed attempts, had no doubts.

The air of tension which had filled Helsng now seemed to deflate. Workers no longer strode past soldiers with confidence, but rather could be seen sitting in their homes, staring at nothing, looks of shock on their faces.

Even Rehs showed no inclination to venture out that night. He stayed in his room until dinner, and then only picked at his food, several times missing the plate entirely and stabbing the table with his fork. G’shar looked grim. Aiiva and Syafa exchanged worried glances. Veth and Scar-shoulder were silent, and Fera mimicked them, although unlike them, her appetite was undiminished.

As for Taelord, he felt equal parts hopeful and frightened. His mind had wavered between the two all day. The Wellspring had been what Utgar and the Empire couldn’t agree about. Now that the water was gone, it should be easy to come to some sort of agreement.

But then… the water was gone. Would the Empire even bother negotiating? They wouldn’t stand for a rebellion, and the Volcarrens had already shown their allegiance. Might they just decide to use their superior forces to crush the rebels, the Volcarrens along with them?

He had no answers, and neither did anyone else. For that reason, he was relieved when there was a knock at the door, and it was opened to reveal Jer. He had come to say that Einar had called for a meeting at his house that night, to discuss what would happen next.

For once, G’shar said he would be there.

He glanced at the silent table after Jer had left. “I do not intend to join the rebels,” he said, speaking pointedly to Rehs. “But not knowing what is happening – or what might happen – would be foolish.”

And so they left, Taelord, Rehs, G’shar, Veth, and Scar-shoulder all walking the short distance to Jer’s home. It was already full, more packed than it had been at the first meeting Einar had called.

Einar himself was either not present yet, or simply hidden by the crowd of kyrie. Taelord and the others wedged themselves inside, closing the door behind them, and a cacophony of mixed whispers and low voices washed over them.

“This is it for the rebellion.”

“The rebellion was a dream, a wonderful dream, but it was never to be.”

“Utgar was the one thing in the Empire’s way.”

“He stopped them from executing Leran, but there’s no one to stop them now.”

“The Empire has free reign. They own this city now.”

“What do you think will happen to us?”

“Torture? Executions? What about our families? What will become of them?”

“We must rely on the Empire for mercy, if they have any.”

“I would speak.” Einar’s voice cut through the crowd, dividing the whispers like a rock dividing a stream. Silence fell, and the rebel leader appeared in the middle of the single room, turning slowly, watching those assembled.

“I won’t pretend this isn’t a blow,” he said, his voice strong and measured. “But it changes nothing.”

There was a wave of whispering at his words, but he quelled it with a look.

“We started this rebellion without Utgar; we don’t need him to finish it. If the Empire thinks to dishearten us with this sabotage, they will be disappointed. We fight.”

Silence met his words.

Einar sighed. “Yes,” he said, “the Empire destroyed the Wellspring water. But that doesn’t mean it’s over. It just means we’ll have to rely on ourselves now instead of Valkyrie magic.”

He turned, fixing them all with a strong gaze. “We’re still here. The Imperials fear us. They know others will join us if we rise up. We can use that.

“We have weapons for any who want them. Take them, use them. Drive the Imperials from your city, from your streets. They think this is their city; we will make it unsafe for them. Continue to operate at night – the Empire has strength of numbers, but they cannot fight you if they cannot find you.”

He paused for a moment, looking at the kyrie about him. The faces held doubt and uncertainty. He frowned. “I can see,” he said, “that you have fear. Fear that you will fail. Fear that if you act, you will be alone, insignificant, and that the Empire will destroy you.” He considered them for a moment. “Know this then: you are not alone. All across Valhalla, people are rising up, fighting against the Empire. The Emperor has suppressed this news, but I know the truth, and tell it to you now.

“Montfre has fallen. The garrison there has been wiped out.”

There was a wave of whispering.

“Deraan was attacked two nights ago by rebels. Their food stores have been burned, their docks destroyed. The garrison left this morning.”

Several farmers glanced at each other, surprise and fear on their faces.

“Sy’El Ves was attacked,” Einar said. “You all know it guards the entrance to Mirror River. But it wasn’t I who attacked it. There are rumors that the warriors came from Erianor, to the west.”

He turned, locking eyes with random kyrie in turn. “Eleva is in open revolt. Trade through Kiris has been disrupted due to unrest. All communication with Yafell has been cut off. Even in Elenrul itself, there are rumors of rebels in the streets, and soldiers being attacked.”

The crowd murmured.

“So many,” G’shar whispered to himself, next to Taelord. “I had no idea…”

“Hear me,” Einar said, and again his voice seemed to strike silence into the crowd. “None of these people had a Valkyrie to rely on. Now, neither do we. They rose up. They stood against the Empire. Now it’s our turn.”

“But,” a timid voice said from the back, “what about the water?”

Taelord craned his neck, and was able to make out a wiry farmer, squashed against the wall.

“The Wellspring water,” he said. “If the Empire took it from Utgar… I mean, what chance do we stand? Won’t they use it?”

“They don’t have it,” Einar said calmly. “It was destroyed, drained into the river in the dead of night. My spies saw this happen.”

There was a stunned silence. “Why?” several voices asked at once.

“Because,” Einar said, “this is the Empire. They fear the Wellspring. Yes, even the advantage it would give them. The Emperor is paranoid of anything – anything – which he cannot control. You think he would allow the garrison here to have a store of Wellspring water? My spies within the keep have confirmed that the water is gone. Many of the soldiers can’t understand why either.”

“But,” Kran said from the other side of the room, “how can we know? This is Wellspring water. If even a small portion of it remains…”

“If it did,” Einar said, “it would have been used by now. The Empire in possession of Wellspring water? A Valkyrie in their ranks? If that happened, the rebellion would be finished overnight. No one can fight a Valkyrie. If the Empire had gone against everything they were built on and decided to use a Wellspring… trust me, we’d know.”

“What if they’ve hidden some, though?” Kran said. “All it would take was one soldier, hiding some while they were pouring it out…”

“It’s a possibility,” Einar said. “But again, the fact that no one has stepped forward to stop this rebellion the Empire so desperately wants to avoid seems to suggest otherwise. Could some water still exist? Yes. Could it be used? Maybe. But if the Empire is content to sit by and let us rise up against them, I for one am prepared to take that chance.”

There was some muttering, but Taelord saw quite a few nods. He had wondered the same thing himself about what had happened to the water, but Einar’s words made sense: it seemed the Wellspring water had been destroyed. They couldn’t know for sure, but Taelord doubted Einar was going to call off the rebellion for a mere chance.

“What about peace?” a voice said nearby.

The crowd fell silent, and turning, Taelord saw that G’shar had spoken.

“Not all of us desire war,” he said, speaking directly to Einar, who had turned to look at him. “Some of us have families to protect, futures to think about. Why do we insist on war?”

“Because it is necessary,” another farmer across the room growled. Several nodded their heads at the words.

“The Empire needs to fall,” a Volcarren added.

The farmer nodded. “You know that, G’shar,” he said. “You’re just too afraid to fight.”

“Fear has nothing to do with it,” G’shar said. “I simply think there are other alternatives to war.”

“Why?” another farmer shot at him. “Why don’t you want war? Scared that you’ll have to pick a side?”

“Maybe he’s already picked a side,” the wiry farmer said, narrowing his eyes at G’shar.

“Enough,” Einar said, again commanding silence. “We’re here to fight the Empire, not each other.” He waved his hand, and one of his rebels appeared, carrying a crate. It was full of weapons – crude swords and axes, some bucklers and helmets. “Arms yourselves,” he said. “The revolt begins now. We’ll keep our actions limited to the night. The Empire could stop us, so don’t let them catch you. Start with the Maze – force the guards out, attack any who patrol the streets. Also focus on the Docks. Seize the storehouses, distribute the goods amongst yourselves. Burn the large Imperial boats, lay spikes and nets in the shallow waters. Force the Imperials back to the Rows. Then, once the Imperials bar their doors for fear at night… then we will strike.”

The meeting ended, many of those present pressing forward to claim a weapon or piece of armor. Neither G’shar nor Taelord joined them, and though Rehs clearly wanted to, a glance from his father kept him in place. Instead, the three of them – Veth and Scar-shoulder seemed to have disappeared somewhere into the crowd – made for the door and left, entering the dark night.

“You go ahead,” Taelord said a few minutes later, as they neared G’shar’s home. He paused in the shadow of a neighboring house. “I… I need to think.”

G’shar nodded understandingly, and, a hand on Rehs’ shoulder, left Taelord alone.

It was true. Taelord did need to think. What did he do? He had no intention of picking a side and joining the rebellion, not if he could help it. But could he help it?

He didn’t for a second think that he could somehow change Einar’s mind, or prevent the coming conflict. He hadn’t survived in the Volcarren by trying to change what was around him. He had scavenged what he could, hid, and ran.

That’s what I need to do now, he thought. Run. Hide. Mother and I, we need to leave this place. Go somewhere far away, where the Empire won’t find us. Then, when the rebellion is over, win or lose… then we can come back.

There was of course only one way that would work. He knew where the Wellspring was, and Utgar would never let him leave the city with that information, unless he and Runa accompanied them. But would he?

Utgar had lost the Wellspring. He had nothing left to bargain with. He would probably seek to negotiate with the Empire, but if that failed… what other option would he have? War would be practically guaranteed, and Utgar… Taelord knew he would get out of the city if he could.

He paused, considering the night sky. Utgar didn’t trust him of course, but he would listen to Runa. And Runa had seemed to agree with the idea. If she could convince him…

Taelord felt a pang of guilt. They owed the people here, and leaving in the night, when a rebellion seemed certain… it left a bitter taste. But G’shar and his family would be gone soon, on the Windchaser, and the other people of Helsng… well, they seemed to want war.

Taelord paused, his mind silent, the night chill about him.

That was it then. They would leave, the four of them. He would go to his mother first, and tell her what he planned. Then he would seek out Runa. She could speak to Utgar on his behalf. And then… then they would leave. Go somewhere.

For that matter… perhaps they could all simply join G’shar, and escape on the Windchaser. Taelord hadn’t thought of that. Yesen might not have room, but it didn’t matter either way. They would make for somewhere deserted. Somewhere the Empire would never find them.

Resolve flooded into Taelord. For the first time since entering Helsng, since even leaving the Volcarren, he knew what to do. He had a plan. Everything seemed better when he had a plan – even Ahnvad had been tolerable. He would speak to his mother first, tonight, and then seek out Runa in the morning.  

However, when Taelord entered G’shar’s home, his mother wasn’t there.

“She left,” Syafa said, shrugging. “When you all went to hear Einar, she left soon after you did. I thought she had joined you, but…”

Taelord turned, intending to search all of Helsng if he had to, but at that moment the door opened, and his mother entered. She looked displeased to find them all there.

“Where were you?” Taelord said at once.

“Walking,” she said evasively.

“Walking. At night.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice firm. “Walking. And now I’m tired. Thank you, Syafa,” she said, inclining her head, “for the meal.” She turned, and disappeared into the storeroom.

Taelord watched her go with a frown.

“We should all sleep,” G’shar said. “Rehs, I want you at the Docks tomorrow morning, helping repair the Windchaser. I want it ready to sail before the rebels attack there.”

Rehs frowned, but nodded. Taelord thanked Syafa for the evening meal, and then entered the storeroom.

“Gone?” Runa echoed. Dered continued to gasp before them, hands on his knees. “What do you mean, ‘gone’?”

“I mean he’s lost his powers!” Dered said, lowering his voice and glancing over his shoulder. “Just now he tried to heal someone and… he couldn’t. Nothing happened. He tried on three separate people, and nothing. He went into the tent – I assume to drink some water – came back, and still… nothing. I don’t know what happened Runa, but Utgar isn’t a Valkyrie any longer.”

Runa turned to Taelord.

“Go,” he said. He nodded towards the pavilion. His mouth was thin and his eyebrows were knit – Runa was sure he was already working out what this might mean for Helsng and the rebellion.

For her, that would have to come later. Right now, she needed to be with her father. She thanked Dered and Taelord, and ran the short distance to the pavilion entrance, slipping inside quietly. Hopefully Utgar had never realized she was gone.

Three people were in the dim interior: her father, Vydar, and Kirav. Utgar was sitting on the chair the farmers had supplied the night they arrived, while Kirav and Vydar stood before him. All three wore a mixture of shock, worry, and anger on their faces.

The tent was shadowed, and Utgar was looking at the floor, so Runa crept around the edge of the canvas wall, hoping to slip into the back portion undetected. Her father didn’t need to discover that she had slipped out without his permission, especially now. She had reached the divider when Utgar spoke.

“How?” he whispered.

Runa paused, but Utgar didn’t seem to have seen her. He had spoken to the floor.

“They must have switched the water,” Vydar said. “Every one of those skins is full, Utgar. They must have crept in here one night, taken the water, and replaced it with water from the river. You yourself said you could never taste any difference.”

Utgar nodded mutely. Runa had never seen him like that. Tired, weak… defeated. She wanted to turn away, but something held her there, kept her watching.

“The question is,” Kirav said, “why? And who?”

Vydar looked at him with raised eyebrows. “There’s little doubt about who,” he said. “This is obviously the work of the Empire. Everyone else here is on our side.”

“But why?” Utgar said. “I tried so hard to stay apart. I could have destroyed the Empire if I wanted, but I didn’t. I tried to make things work, prevent a war. Why would they do this?”

Vydar glanced at Kirav, then back at Utgar. “It’s… obvious,” he said.

Utgar looked up.

“They feared you,” Vydar said. “We could all see it. No matter your intentions, you were something they could not control. A threat they had no answer for. They had to remove that threat, and they have.”

Utgar sighed. “I was a fool,” he said, shaking his head.

“Perhaps,” Kirav said slowly, “perhaps this is why they suggested Haukeland. They knew you would want to send scouts, and decided that would give them time to steal the water.”

“If that’s the case,” Utgar said grimly, “then Yiven was a better actor than I thought.” He stood. “Enough of this speculation. The water is gone, my powers with it. What do we do?”

Vydar shook his head. “There isn’t much we can do, Utgar,” he said. “All the leverage we had was in those waterskins. Without it, we’re a scattered force of less than a thousand men, nothing more. The Empire outnumbers us, and could easily crush any revolt we tried to start.”

Utgar nodded. “So we try for peace,” he said. “It’s our only chance,” he added as Vydar opened his mouth. “The Empire has the upper hand. We can only hope that they are still willing to negotiate.”

Vydar frowned, but said nothing.

“Kirav,” Utgar said, turning to him, “you will fly to the Volcarren. You know where the Wellspring is. Bring back as much water as you can carry.”

“Utgar,” Kirav said uncertainly, “that will take at least a week. Probably two.”

“I know,” Utgar said. “But we need that water. I doubt the Empire would ever let me leave, but you… make sure you aren’t followed. If you are, do what you need to.”

Kirav nodded, his face set. “I’ll leave immediately,” he said. He turned, and whipped through the tent entrance.

“Now,” Utgar said, turning to Vydar, “if the Empire has taken my water, there’s every chance things here will turn to war. If it should come to that, we are not completely without hope.”

He reached up, and pulled a cord from beneath his shirt. Tied to it was a small object which seemed to shimmer in the darkness. Runa leaned forward slightly – it looked like a small glass vial.

Vydar leaned forward, looking at the object. For a moment there was silence. Then: “You kept some with you?” he whispered.

“Of course,” Utgar said, stuffing the vial back down his shirt. “I didn’t think the Empire would go this far, but I always knew how unprotected the water was. I kept some on me, just in case something like this happened.

“But Vydar, I have barely a drop. Not enough to turn the tide of a battle. Only enough—”

“—To open a Wellspring,” Vydar finished, his eyes widening. “You mean to do so?”

“Only,” Utgar said, fixing Vydar with a hard stare, “only if comes to war. I still want peace, Vydar. Understand that. If the Empire is willing to negotiate, then so am I. But… yes. If it comes to war, unsealing the Wellspring may be our only chance.

“Until then… make sure the Volcarrens and Vel are prepared. This rebellion could start at any moment, and we just lost our only leverage.”

Vydar nodded and turned to leave, and Runa, fearing she might be discovered, slipped past the partition. It was completely dark in the back half of the tent, leaving her alone in the blackness, forced to consider what might come next.

The next morning, Taelord convinced G’shar to go to Utgar. Healing was one of the abilities granted by Wellspring water, and though G’shar’s injury wasn’t deep, he had lost a lot of blood. G’shar was hesitant; he didn’t want to put Utgar in the position of healing someone the Empire had attacked – sanctioned or not. However, Syafa fixed him with a flat stare, and he relented.

Rehs, Veth, and Scar-shoulder came as well. None were seriously injured, but Taelord was fairly certain Rehs had broken a rib, and Scar-shoulder’s skin resembled a black and red patchwork quilt.

It had not been a pleasant night when they returned, beaten and bloodied, Utgar’s guards having escorted them back before leaving. Syafa and Aiiva had begun tending to their injuries, and Taelord had replaced his sword in the storeroom where he slept. He had returned to the main room to find G’shar frowning at Veth and Scar-shoulder.

“If you want to join Einar in his rebellion,” he had said, “then fine. It is not my place to interfere. However, while you remain beneath this roof, I will ask that you keep my son out of your war.”

Veth had nodded silently.

Fera had been there, sitting at the table, saying nothing. She was there in the morning as well, and she neither looked at Taelord nor spoke to him. Taelord frowned. He hadn’t forgotten the things she had said, about joining the Empire, or seeking safety from Utgar. He would need to talk to her. But not now. Perhaps later, once G’shar and the others were healed.

Taelord volunteered to accompany them to Utgar’s pavilion. He didn’t need to – they all knew where the tent was, and he was completely uninjured. But what he had seen last night – Volcarren against soldier – it had made the war real to him. It was happening. The rebels were here. The unrest wasn’t just angry glares and harsh words anymore. It was real, present, dangerous. Taelord had known that of course, but somehow being suddenly confronted with it in the darkness like that… it had changed things.

It scared him. He didn’t like to admit it, but it was true. Why should a thing like that scare him? He had seen plenty of fights. He had been in plenty of fights. But somehow… this was different, and he was worried.

And that was why he decided to go to Utgar’s pavilion. Not to see the Valkyrie, but to see Runa. She might be naïve and even blind, but… after last night, Taelord could use some of her endless optimism.

The Maze seemed tense to Taelord – many doors were open to the morning air, allowing him to see dark looks and whispered conversations over hurried morning meals. The streets were mostly empty, the few people they passed hurrying by without speaking.

It didn’t take them long to reach Utgar’s pavilion, and they weren’t the only ones seeking his services. A small knot of people had formed outside the tent entrance, Volcarren guards blocking their way. As Taelord watched, one of the assembled kyrie – a burly fisher with his arm in a makeshift sling – was allowed to enter the tent.

“He only started yesterday,” Veth said, nodding to the knot of people. “Healing. I think he kept from doing it because he didn’t want to look like he was taking sides, but… well, he seems to have changed his mind.”

Taelord wondered at that. Utgar had been so careful not to provoke the Empire, and now… Looking around, he saw a handful of guards, spread out at the edges of the intersection, all watching the pavilion and the people waiting to be healed, many with frowns. They didn’t interfere, but they gripped their weapons tightly.

One of Utgar’s guards approached them. “Veth,” he said, nodding to him. He glanced at Taelord. “No further injuries, I trust? Everyone still in one piece?”

Veth scowled at the ground.

“Thank you for your help last night,” Taelord said. Dered had been one of the guards who had flown with him to retrieve Rehs and the others.

Dered shrugged, frowning. “Given my way, I would have chased the soldiers down and taught them a lesson. But… I know Utgar wants us to maintain peace.” He shook his head. “Some day he’ll have to realize that’s impossible.”

“Is Runa here?” Taelord asked. “I would speak with her, if I can.”

“She’s here,” Dered said, appraising him hesitantly. “But I wouldn’t be seen talking to her, Taelord. If she so much as leaves the pavilion, Utgar starts thinking the worst. He’ll probably suspect you of being an Imperial assassin here to kill her.”

Taelord shrugged. “His opinion of me can’t get much worse. Just tell her?”

Dered frowned, but turned and made his way to the pavilion.

Taelord watched him go. There had been a time, not that long ago, when no Volcarren would have spoke that way about Utgar, least of all Dered. The Volcarrens wanted war, and Utgar wanted peace. Had that rift finally grown too wide? Was the Valkyrie losing his army? Was that even possible?

G’shar, Rehs, and the others joined the knot of people outside the pavilion, and a moment later, Runa appeared in the tent entrance. She saw Taelord, and walked over to him. Taelord was so used to her flying everywhere – as if she couldn’t get places fast enough – that sight of her walking surprised him. She stopped in front of him, looking him up and down.

“I thought it was dangerous to be wandering around Helsng,” she remarked.

Taelord raised an eyebrow. “I had company.”

She smiled. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “It gets so dreary in that tent, people worrying about everything, speaking in whispers. At least Father’s healing people now. That adds some variety.”

Taelord glanced at the knot of waiting kyrie. “I’m surprised he is,” he said.

Runa glanced at them too, frowning. “Yes… I had to convince him to do it,” she said. “He didn’t want to, but… this was the least we could do. We needed to repay these people somehow for everything they gave us.”

Taelord found himself agreeing. These people needed healing, and Utgar could provide it. Still, a shred of worry nagged at him. “What about the Empire, though?” he said. “What will they think?”

“Hopefully that we’re here to help people, and not start a war.”

Veth exited the tent, his various bruises vanished, a grin splitting his face. Taelord saw his eyes flick to the nearest guard – who looked like he could use Utgar’s services himself – and his grin widened.

“I don’t know that the Empire will see the difference,” he said, looking around at the Imperial guards. Every one of them wore looks appropriate to being punched in the face and told they couldn’t retaliate. For many, this wasn’t far from the truth.

Things weren’t helped by Scar-shoulder, who emerged from the tent with Kran, both healed completely. Veth joined them, and they left the tent together, laughing and pointing at the nearby guards.

They passed close to Taelord, and he could hear some of what they said:

“He was in the alley,” Scar-shoulder was saying, watching a nearby guard. “I saw him.” He flexed his healed arm experimentally. “Next time…”

Kran frowned, and Veth glanced at him.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it, Kran,” Veth said. “I saw you. You were better than any of us. Had that guard on the ground before he knew what had hit him.”

Kran shook his head, but Taelord saw that he was smiling.

They left, disappearing in the maze of houses, heading in the direction of G’shar’s home. Runa watched them go, and even after they were hidden from sight, she continued to look at where they had vanished, silent, all hint of a smile gone.

“You… You alright?” Taelord finally asked after she had gone nearly a full minute without speaking.

“Yes,” she said, turning to him. “I just…” She shook her head. “I didn’t expect that of Kran. I know some Volcarrens want war, but Kran… he came to Father, before. He seemed to understand. To want peace. He said he wanted peace.”

She looked away. Taelord watched her for a moment. Maybe Kran did want peace, but he was also ready to stand up for the farmers. He didn’t fear war as Utgar seemed to. If it came, he would join it. Welcome it, even.

“I’m sorry, Runa,” he said.

She glanced at him. “For what?”

“For… I know how much you wanted this to work. For us to live our lives away from the Volcarren, without war and conflict… I know, I did too. And now…”

Another Volcarren emerged from the tent, casting aside the sling his arm had been in, glaring triumphantly at the soldiers as he passed.

Runa watched him go. “No,” she whispered. “No… you’re right. They are ready for war.” She was silent for a moment, watching the knot of people. “They want war.”

She shook her head, and then began walking away slowly, her eyes on the ground.

Taelord watched her uncertainly for a moment, and then followed. “Where are you going?” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

She shrugged. “Not far. I just… want to get away. From the soldiers, the other Volcarrens even… just for a moment.”

But… Utgar wouldn’t want her out of sight of the tent. Taelord glanced back, but no one was paying attention. Utgar’s guards were either dealing with the knot of kyrie asking for healing, or watching the Imperials with tense postures.

Runa glanced at him, perhaps guessing what he was thinking. “You can stay with me, if you want,” she said. “Then I won’t be ‘wandering Helsng alone.’”

She gave the ghost of a smile, but Taelord frowned. He could guess Utgar’s reaction if he found out Runa had left the tent without a guard. And if he learned Taelord had been there… well, his anger was likely to be worse, not better.

Runa turned and continued walking away, slowly approaching a side street between two homes. Taelord watched her for a moment, doubts swirling in his mind. Then he silenced them and went after her.

They were silent for a time, walking side by side, the houses they passed equally quiet. No one saw them. No one passed them. The streets were empty.

Taelord glanced covertly at Runa. He had rarely seen her so… deflated. The only time close had been once in Vraen’s camp, after an attack by Ahnvad. She had said she wanted to get away then too, from the fighting, from the Wellspring. She had been Valkyrie then, and Taelord had been surprised. How could anyone not want to be a Valkyrie?

“I was wrong,” she said, so quietly that she might have been speaking to herself.

“Wrong?” Taelord echoed.

She glanced at him, before turning her eyes back to the dirt road. “Wrong about the people here,” she said. “And about the other Volcarrens. I knew some of them wanted to fight the Empire, but I thought most of them… I convinced myself they wanted peace. I really thought they did.”

“Some do,” Taelord said quietly. “… I do.”

She stopped and looked at him, and Taelord was surprised to see that there were tears on her face. Only two, rolling slowly down her cheeks.

She gave him a faint smile. “You tried to tell me,” she said. “You said war was inevitable. You said it would happen.”

“It hasn’t happened yet,” Taelord said. “Maybe… Maybe it won’t.”

A small laugh escaped her. “You are telling me that war might not happen?” She smiled, but shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “It’s coming. I’ve known it for a while I think, but I just… didn’t want to admit it.”

“We can still have peace,” Taelord said, putting a tentative hand on her shoulder. “Maybe the rebellion happens, but we don’t have to be involved.” He paused for a fraction of a second. “You, me, Utgar, my mother… we can escape. Leave. Go to Haukeland… anywhere. What’s going to happen here will happen, but we don’t have to be a part of it.”

Runa looked at him, silent.

Taelord was uncomfortably aware of her eyes looking into his. They were light brown. They seemed too light for the Volcarren.

“Maybe,” she said, finally looking away. “Yes… maybe Father will leave. He only came here because of the Wellspring, but if the rebels arrive… he won’t stay in the middle of a war.” She glanced back at him. “Maybe we can leave. Go to Haukeland, wherever we want.”

She gave him a quick hug. “Thank you,” she whispered, before letting him go, and resuming her slow pace down the street.

Taelord watched her for a moment, and then caught up, watching her. She was smiling now, her step light, her head up. The old Runa was back. Just like that. Taelord shook his head, smiling to himself. What he wouldn’t give to cast aside his worries that easily.

Still, he had meant what he said. The war was going to happen. He believed that now. But those who wanted peace – him and Runa, their parents – they could escape it. True, the scouts hadn’t returned from Haukeland yet, but they could go elsewhere. Valhalla had to be full of unexplored or deserted lands they could settle in.

They rounded a corner, and Taelord’s thoughts were driven from his mind. They pulled up short, Taelord instinctively putting a hand before Runa.

Two of Einar’s rebels, easily distinguished by their leather half-masks and worn clothing, were standing in the street, half a stones-throw away. Between them, slumped against the wall of a house, was a southern kyrie Taelord didn’t immediately recognize.

“On your feet, Geren,” one of the rebels said, pulling the kyrie up against the house. “Vermin like you deserve no rest. At least the Imperials are doing their duty. But you… you’re a traitor to your own people.”

Geren. The bounty hunter who had captured Leran. He had been in the alley with Rehs as well. Now Taelord remembered – when he and Utgar’s guards had arrived in the alley, Geren had been beating one of Einar’s rebels. He had been using his sword.

“This is a little repayment,” one of the rebels said, “for the gifts you gave our friends last night.” He slammed his fist into Geren’s stomach, and the kyrie doubled over, falling back to the ground.

It was clear the rebels had been at it for a while. Geren’s face was bruised, and Taelord saw him coughing blood onto the dirt of the road.

“Get up,” the other rebel said, kicking Geren lazily. “Or would you prefer us to finish it?” He unhooked his axe from his belt.

“Not yet,” the other rebel said. He raised his foot, and stamped on Geren’s back, causing him to fall flat. Then he knelt, and raised a fist.

“Stop!” Runa shouted. Taelord glanced at her – except she wasn’t there. She had moved so fast that he had never seen her, leaping through the air like an arrow, wings flared just enough to keep her aloft. She landed right behind the rebel, and – Taelord rushed to stop her but was nowhere near close enough – grabbed his arm to prevent him from striking Geren.

The rebel didn’t even turn around. He backhanded Runa across the face without even looking at her.

Runa staggered backwards and actually fell – though she seemed more surprised than hurt – landing on her back in the dirt.

The rebel spun – Taelord could tell some sort of training had taken over – and whipped his fist towards Runa.

Taelord tackled him before it got there.

He scrambled free quickly, the rebel leaping to his feet, reaching for his axe.

“You don’t want to do that,” Taelord said as the rebel advanced. He kept his knees bent, ready to spring, just in case.

The rebel paused, glaring at Taelord. Then, for the first time, he recognized Runa lying in the dirt behind him.

There was a long silence, in which both rebels slowly adopted looks of horror, and Geren whimpered against the wall. Runa got cautiously to her feet. Taelord looked from one rebel to the other.

“You’ll leave him” — he nodded to Geren — “alone. You’ve done plenty. In turn, I won’t tell Utgar that you struck his daughter.”

The rebels watched him for a moment, and then, without a word, sheathed their axes and fled, practically flying from the scene.

Taelord focused on Geren. “Go,” he said.

Geren scrambled to his feet – despite his injuries – and limped away quickly, leaving the two of them alone.

Taelord turned calmly to Runa. “Hold still,” he said, and for once Runa did exactly that, remaining motionless as Taelord took her face in his hands and tilted it, examining where the rebel had struck her. It would leave a mark for a few days, but she might be able to hide it with her hair.

Taelord let her go, and without a word, put a hand on her shoulder and gently turned her back in the direction of Utgar’s tent. She began walking without complaint, and Taelord fell in beside her.

“You fell,” he said after a moment.

Runa glanced at him.

“You fell, and hit your face. That’s what happened, if Utgar asks.”

“He won’t believe that,” Runa said. She sounded surprisingly calm.

“He’ll have to,” Taelord said, not looking at her. “Otherwise he’ll track down the rebels and probably kill them. And if he does that… I don’t know what will happen. But it won’t be good.”

Runa nodded silently. “Maybe they deserve it,” she said quietly after a moment. “The rebels. Not to die,” she added hurriedly when Taelord looked at her in surprise. “Just… It’s people like them who will start the war, not the Empire. They want war.”

Honestly Taelord couldn’t disagree with her. He looked away. Without the rebels, the unrest was just farmers plotting in the night. Ever since Einar had arrived, things had changed. The rebels had experience, and they were ready to use it.

“Utgar has the Wellspring,” he said. He looked at Runa. “The rebels might want a war – this whole city might want a war – but it won’t happen. Not with Utgar in their way.”

Runa nodded slowly. “Maybe,” she said. “If we can find some sort of solution with the Empire… maybe we can avoid war. I only hope we can.”

So do I, Taelord thought as Utgar’s pavilion came into view. But what kind of deal could Utgar make? The Empire wanted the Wellspring sealed, and Utgar would never do that. Maybe war would never happen with Utgar opposing it… but peace? Taelord wasn’t sure if he could believe that. No, Einar was probably right. War would start at some point, and Utgar would have to pick a side. Taelord and his mother would have to escape from Helsng before that happened, and if Utgar and Runa went with them…

“Runa!” Dered rounded the corner and came to a halt before them, his breath coming in gasps. “Skies above, where were you? I look away for one moment, and—”

“I was walking,” Runa said, turning her head so that her hair fell over the bruise forming on the side of her face. “Why? What’s happened?”

Dered shook his head. “Your father,” he gasped. “Utgar… The Wellspring water… it’s… it’s gone.”

It wasn’t hard to find people ready to repay the Empire for what they had done to G’shar. Veth left, and returned a short while later with Kran, a Vel, and two of Einar’s rebels. They met where the dirt track which ran along the side of the Rows began.

Without a word, they set off towards the Docks, where G’shar had been attacked, Veth and Scar-shoulder leading the way.

Rehs could hardly believe this was actually happening. He had been ready for so long to strike against the Empire, to pay them back for the things they had done. Tonight he would get his chance.

“Will they still be there?” one of Einar’s rebels whispered as they passed the Rows. “At the Docks?”

“They won’t have left,” Veth whispered back from the front. “They want revenge, same as us. They won’t settle with just one defenseless farmer.”

“And you’re sure this is right?” Kran whispered. “Attacking the soldiers? Utgar—”

“We won’t kill them,” Scar-shoulder whispered. “But Rehs was right. We can’t take this lying down. If we let them attack the people here, what will their next target be? Crops? Homes? Daughters? No, we stop it here.”

They lapsed into silence.

Rehs was sweating. Veth had passed him a crude knife, carved from Volcarren bone, and he gripped it tightly, the hide wrapped around the handle preventing it from becoming slippery.

He had none of Kran’s doubts. He had meant every word he said back home. This was something they needed to do.

Veth found the place quick enough – a shadowy gap between two large store sheds. It made the perfect place to lurk unseen, and sure enough, Rehs could make out several shadows in the alley, crouched down and waiting. He would never have seen them if he hadn’t known to look for them.

Veth knelt, beckoning for the others to gather around him. They were just at the head of the dirt path, obscured by the shadows cast by the massive buildings of the Rows.

“Remember,” Veth said, “no killing. I don’t like it,” he added, as one of the rebels frowned, “but Einar has a point. Utgar will have to accept war eventually, but I won’t be the one to force him into it. Rehs,” he said, turning to him, “your job will be to distract them. Go around and come back through that alley they’re in, act like you’re coming home from the docks. They’ll focus on you, and when they do, we’ll attack from behind. And don’t worry,” he added. “We’ll get them before they do anything.”

Rehs wasn’t worried. He was ecstatic. His greatest fear had been that he wouldn’t be able to fight. “I’ll keep them distracted,” he promised.

“Go,” Scar-shoulder said. “We’ll be ready.”

Rehs nodded and rose, then made his way onto the docks, skirting the place where the Imperials lay in wait. He had no sleeves to hide his knife – only Northerners wore that kind of clothing – so he decided to simply hold it flat against the inside of his arm, and trust that the soldiers would miss it in the darkness.

He rounded one of the buildings which made up the alley, and then paused, just out of sight. His heart was hammering with excitement, and his palms were sweatier than ever. The Docks were mostly deserted – there would be no rescue for the soldiers.

After waiting for about a minute, he judged Veth and the others had had enough time to prepare. He bowed his head and slouched his shoulders, as if he were tired from a days’ work on the Docks, and then began a slow walk towards the alley.

It was hard, keeping his pace slow when his heart was practically flying inside his chest. But he kept his wings drooped, his arms loose by his side. He could feel the knife, the blade pressed against his arm, the carved bone cool on his skin.

He entered the shadow of the alley. One foot before the other. Slow, measured, don’t look up, don’t—

“You there!”

Rehs snapped his head up despite himself. Three soldiers in the partial plate of guards stood before him, three more lurking in the shadows behind them.

“Do you support the Empire?” one of the soldiers asked, stepping forward menacingly.

“I’m just the son of a farmer,” Rehs said slowly, playing for time. He thought he could see Veth and the others approaching from the other end of the alley, but he kept his eyes drooped, his posture exhausted.

“That’s not what he asked,” another guard said, approaching on Rehs’ right. “He asked if you supported the Empire.”

Rehs shrugged. “I guess,” he said, slowly focusing on the soldier. “I mean… we make all the food. We do all the work. So… yeah, I guess you could say we support the Empire. I mean, it would fall apart without us, right?”

The soldiers glanced at each other, unsure.

“Makes you wonder,” Rehs said slowly, barely concealing his grin as Veth positioned himself behind one of the soldiers in the shadows, “why the Empire tries so hard to turn us against it. Taking all our food? Unfair taxes? Soldiers everywhere? You’d think they’d be smarter, what with us supporting them and all.”

“I’ve heard enough,” the first soldier said. He drew his sword, a straight, thin blade, and advanced on Rehs. “You are the kind of ground-lover who caused this problem,” he snarled, stopping before Rehs. “Thinking you can run the Empire, that it belongs to you somehow, that you alone keep it afloat. Maybe we need you, but you need us more. Without the Empire, there’s chaos. Without us, you’d be some obscure clan, fighting for survival. And this is the thanks we get.

“Well I’m going to teach you a little lesson tonight, farmer: you need the Empire. You all do.”

“Why?” Rehs said. Out of the corner of his eye, Veth, positioned perfectly behind one of the soldiers, nodded to him. “Because we need your protection? We don’t. In fact” — he gripped his knife tightly — “we can defend ourselves just fine.”

And he stabbed the soldier in the gut.

He was surprised at how easy it was. He had expected the soldier to be ready, to block with his sword perhaps, or at least step back. He did none of those things. He just stood there, not realizing fast enough that Rehs had a blade, and let the dagger slip easily beneath his breastplate and into his stomach.

He staggered back, pulling himself off of the knife, howling and clutching his gut. “The little groundling!” he bellowed. “Kill him!” The two soldiers who had been nearby advanced on Rehs, but then paused and looked back, as sudden shouts and cries of pain issued from behind them. Veth and the others had attacked.

Rehs took the opportunity to easily stab the closest soldier in the back of the leg, as he turned to face the ambush. Warm blood gushed over his hand.

The soldier fell as if Rehs had decapitated him, gripping his leg and rolling away from Rehs, straight towards the Vel, who happily kicked him in the stomach as he neared.

Scar-shoulder barreled towards the other guard, who barely had time to get his sword out before he was tackled to the ground. Rehs leapt out of the way as the two rolled towards him, a mass of arms, legs, and wings, all trying to grab or punch.

Kran and the two rebels seemed evenly matched – perhaps the soldiers they had attacked had been more ready. Veth and Kran were fighting one together – as Rehs watched, the soldier staggered back, one of his wings bent and dripping blood.

The Vel had tackled the soldier Rehs had stabbed, and was rapidly adding to his list of injuries. The soldier’s attempts to keep the Vel from him were becoming feebler and feebler.

True to their word, no one except Rehs had used a weapon. They were punching and kicking without remorse, using their wings like cudgels, not giving the soldiers a chance to draw their weapons.

Rehs leapt forward, seeking an opening on one of the three fighting soldiers. Maybe he could slip his knife between their wings, or stab them in the leg…

The fight seemed clear to him, every detail plain. He glanced down at the knife he held, and saw that blood had coated the blade, and was dripping down onto his hand. He wiped it off with his other hand, and approached one of the soldiers.

“To arms!”

The cry echoed from the other end of the alley, where Rehs had come from. He turned as feet thundered behind him. Someone else had joined the fray.

They were Imperials. Real soldiers, wearing full plate.

One crashed into the Vel, kicking him off of the guard he had been attacking, slicing with his sword. The Vel fell back, gripping his arm. Another reached into the mass of limbs which was Scar-shoulder and his opponent, and separated them, throwing Scar-shoulder against the wall.

Two more soldiers rushed to help the other combatants, one running straight at Rehs.

He didn’t know what to do. His knife couldn’t penetrate armor, and there were no gaps. The soldier didn’t have a helm, and Rehs raised his blade, ready to strike, but he never got the chance: the soldier slammed his wings forward, armored like the rest of him, and they both rammed into Rehs, striking him square in the chest.

He toppled over backwards like a dead reed. He couldn’t breathe. He struck out with his arms, trying to stop his fall, but he hit the ground hard anyway, and for a moment, everything around him seemed to shift and grow quiet.

After what seemed like a long time – during which Rehs was only vaguely aware of dark shapes struggling around him, punctuated by cries and blows – he was picked up roughly and pinned against a wall. He was finally able to take a breath, and sucked in air, gulping like a fish on a boat. His vision cleared, and sound seemed to sharpen. He became aware of a terrible pain in his chest.

“How is he?” someone asked overhead.

“Stabbed in the gut,” a voice answered. “Not doing well. He’ll need the healers for sure.”

“And Hev?” the first voice asked.

“Stabbed in the leg, a broken wing, smashed nose… stabbed in the side, too, I’d say.”

“Ground-loving farmers!” another voice shouted. There was a sound of knuckles hitting flesh from nearby, accompanied by a grunt of pain.

“Leave them!” the first voice shouted. “Don’t touch the Volcarrens. Do you want to bring a Valkyrie down on us?”

Rehs squinted, and was finally able to make out the shapes in the darkness. He and the others seemed to have been thrown against a wall. The alley was littered with bodies, all of them stirring: the guards. There were at least five on the ground. Rehs grinned despite the pain in his chest.

“Three Volcarrens,” a new voice said, “a Vel, a kid… who are these two? They don’t look like farmers.”

That voice… Rehs recognized it. He looked up painfully. “You!” he spat.

Geren, the freeman bounty hunter, glanced at him.

“You traitor!” Rehs said.

“I’m not a traitor,” Geren said, kicking Rehs in the side.

Rehs’ chest flared, and he gasped in pain.

“I’m a patriot,” Geren said, glaring at him. “I serve the Empire. This vermin though…” He turned, and Rehs saw that he was looking at the two rebels, both of whom looked barely conscious.

“You,” Geren said, hauling one of the rebels to his feet and holding him against the wall by his throat. “You see that?” He pointed to one of the guards on the ground nearby, who was holding a wing and moaning. “You did that,” Geren said. “You broke Nrat’s wing. His wing! He won’t be able to fly for months.”

“I’d do it again,” the rebel growled. “And I’d break his other wing too.”

There was a sudden sharp snap, followed immediately by a shout of pain.

“How about that?” Geren spat, as the rebel collapsed on the ground, howling.

“You Imperial—”

The other rebel was silenced with a blow to the stomach.

“I’m going to do to you,” Geren said, “everything you did to Nrat. And maybe a little more. He was a friend of mine. No one hurts one of my friends without answering to me.”

His blade flashed in the night, and the rebel let out a screech of pain. A splatter of blood struck Rehs across the face – only a few drops, but still enough to make him recoil.

His eagerness of before was gone, but it wasn’t replaced with fear or pain. Rehs was angry. A raging hatred was within him, but he was held firm by one of the guards, who still pinned him against the wall.

The sword flashed again, but this time it didn’t descend. A figure dropped from the sky and met the blade with his own: a broadsword. The thick blade batted aside the smaller one of the soldier, and the flat of the broadsword crashed into the soldier’s unarmored face. Not a lethal blow, but a painful one. The soldier staggered back, clutching his face.

“Taelord!” Rehs shouted, new strength surging into him.

It was Taelord, and he wasn’t alone. Six Volcarrens dropped into the alley after him, all armed with axes.

The soldiers backed away, and when the Volcarrens didn’t pursue, took to the air, leaving their wounded behind. The guard holding Rehs released him and went with them.

Taelord extended a hand and pulled Rehs to his feet.

“You changed your mind!” Rehs said, putting a hand on the wall as his head swam. “You came back… to help us.”

“I didn’t,” Taelord said, as the other Volcarrens with him began helping up the other wounded.

“But—”

“I’m not interested in your rebellion,” Taelord said. “I came to stop you.”

“But… you hate the Empire!” Rehs said. Taelord turned away, and Rehs staggered after him. “You fought them! You won!”

“I fought for survival,” Taelord said, turning suddenly. “Get that through your head, Rehs. I know you think I’m some kind of hero or something, but I’m not. I want peace. Nothing else. You… You have that. Don’t throw it away.”

He left then to help the other Volcarrens, leaving Rehs standing there, the pain in his chest clamoring for his attention.

Helsng acted on Einar’s words immediately. It began that very night, laborers who left Jer’s home taking to the shadows, searching out patrolling guards. Others left for the Docks, likely planning to open the storehouses and steal back their grain.

Rehs wanted to join them, but Taelord convinced him – how he knew not – to return home instead. Rehs still viewed the Volcarrens with something bordering on reverence, and Taelord used that to his advantage. Even then, he still had to practically pull Rehs with him through the streets.

The logical side of Taelord didn’t know why he bothered. Rehs was going to join the rebellion one way or another, short of G’shar binding him hand, wing, and foot, and stowing him in Yesen’s boat. And honestly, Taelord couldn’t blame him. He had been willing to give the Empire a chance, but after seeing how they treated the people of Helsng, he was nearly as ready to fight them as the rebels were. He shoved that thought away every time it came to him.

He just didn’t want to see Rehs join the rebels. That was all it really came to, though Taelord couldn’t say why. It was more than a simple debt of gratitude to G’shar and Syafa. He cared, cared about what happened, though the reason was hidden from him. He only knew that Rehs must not join the rebellion.

They returned home, and Taelord spent a restless night, convinced he could hear shouts and yells drifting to him from across Helsng. He wondered what the people of Helsng were doing, and what he might find in the morning.

He was finally woken from shallow sleep by sunlight shining in from under the storeroom door. He glanced at his mother, who still slept, and then stood, stretched, and staggered stiffly through the door.

Rehs and Aiiva were already up – they seemed to rise almost before the sun – sitting at the table and finishing their breakfast, and Syafa was tending the fire. G’shar was absent.

“Where’s G’shar?” Taelord asked, sliding onto the bench at the table as Syafa put a plate before him, containing two slices of bread and a lump of a strange, not-quite-solid, white substance. Taelord eyed it, but took a bite anyway, and found it to have a strong flavor.

“He’s at the Docks,” Syafa said, her mouth thin. “Several storehouses were broken into last night, and Jandar has said that the other storehouses must be emptied and redivided to make up the difference.”

Taelord glanced up. “Not yours though?” he said. He glanced from Rehs to Syafa, both of whom were frowning. “But… you’re freemen. You own that grain.”

“They own the storehouse,” Syafa said. “We only rent it. G’shar is there now, trying to save something.”

Taelord glanced at Aiiva, and saw that she was watching Rehs with an almost fearful expression on her face. Rehs was scowling at his empty plate.

“That isn’t all,” Syafa said, putting a plate before Fera as she appeared and sat down next to Taelord. “There were several attacks against patrolling soldiers last night – several rumored injuries.”

“No deaths, though?” Taelord asked, remembering Einar’s words. “No one was killed?”

“Not that we’ve heard,” Syafa said with a frown. “But the soldiers retaliated. G’shar thinks they were waiting for something like this to happen. Quite a few people were injured, some seriously.” She turned away, shaking her head, and returned to the fire.

“The keep was broken into,” Aiiva whispered, glancing away from Rehs. “They’re saying rebels did it. Opened the prisons.”

“How do you know?” Taelord asked.

“Marenn was here,” Syafa said, turning. “Before the sun had risen. He told us what had happened, and that he wasn’t waiting for a boat. He said he’d take his chances on foot, making for Anund. I only hope he escaped the city…”

Taelord glanced back at Aiiva, and saw that she was now staring at her plate just like Rehs, contemplating its surface as though hoping to find a solution there to what was happening. Judging by her face, her efforts had so far been in vain.

Veth appeared, slumping down onto the bench. Syafa put a plate before him, and he began wolfing down food like a starving man. Taelord glanced at him, and saw that his face was bruised, a large, dark welt forming across one cheek.

“What happened?” Taelord asked, nodding to the bruise.

“Accident,” Veth said without even looking up. “I was sparring with Dered and forgot to block.”

Taelord watched him for a moment, but didn’t press him. It was a lie. He had seen Veth at Jer’s house last night, and his face had been unmarked then. He must have been one of those who attacked the Imperial soldiers last night.

Taelord glanced at his mother, but she seemed unconcerned with what was happening. She was eating slowly, savoring every bite, focused solely on the meal. Taelord shook his head and returned to his own food. He didn’t know if she didn’t care, or if she had simply learned to ignore things she couldn’t change. Either way, Ahnvad had done that to her. He stabbed at his bread angrily.

G’shar didn’t return all day. Taelord had no desire to leave the house, and stayed near it with his mother.

When he had first come to Helsng, the city had seemed inviting, full of possibility. Had that only been three days ago? Now, it seemed dangerous. The streets were full of hurrying kyrie, no one stopped to speak to each other, and when soldiers and laborers passed, they did so on opposite sides of the street. Volcarrens and Vel could be seen moving from street to street in packs of three or four, slinking away when a larger group of soldiers appeared. The Imperial guards also seemed more common, patrol after patrol passing G’shar’s home.

Rehs left soon after breakfast, supposedly to see if he could help G’shar, though Taelord wondered if he had other plans. Taelord considered going with him, but decided against it. The city felt dangerous, and he was loathe to leave his mother.

Several times, he saw groups of workers and Volcarrens watching the house from a few streets over, once accompanied by one he was sure was one of Einar’s men. They moved away every time they saw him watching them, and Taelord began to wonder.

Einar had said that everyone in Helsng was either helping the rebels or the Empire. That didn’t leave much room for someone like G’shar, who simply wanted to keep his family safe. Taelord didn’t know exactly what he was afraid of happening. All he knew was that Helsng was changing, and G’shar wasn’t. He had been involved in enough uprisings in the Volcarren to know that usually didn’t end well.

Fera joined him just outside the door at one point, watching the city and the hurrying kyrie silently. Taelord glanced at her, and though she said nothing, he could tell there was something on her mind. She was frowning, something she rarely did.

“Taelord,” she said after several minutes of silence, “we need to leave these people.”

“What?” Taelord said blankly. He had been expecting her to say something about what was happening in the city. “G’shar? Why?”

“It isn’t safe,” she said, watching the street. “I spoke to several merchants in the Rows yesterday, and they said they would be more than happy to shelter us for a few days, until Utgar receives word about Haukeland.”

“Why?” Taelord asked uncertainly. “Mother, these people took us in.”

“And I appreciate what they’ve done,” she said carefully. “But…” She glanced at him, a worried look. “Taelord, we aren’t safe here. If there is conflict, the Empire will win. They have soldiers, training, food. I would rather be on their side now, than try to join them after.”

“Join them?” Taelord echoed, staring at his mother. “Why would we join them? These are the people who kept us trapped in the Volcarren. I’m not going to join them.”

She looked away, and didn’t reply.

Taelord continued to stare at her, still not quite convinced that she had just suggested joining the Empire. Had her time with Ahnvad changed her that much?

“What of Utgar, then?” she said, turning back to him. “He is a Valkyrie; perhaps he could shelter us. We would be safe under his protection.”

“We already have his protection,” Taelord said, frowning.

“That might not stop them, though,” Fera said. “Syafa said there were attacks in the night, and I don’t think either one of us believes Veth’s story about what happened to his face.”

Taelord frowned at her. “You just suggested we join the Empire, and now you want Utgar’s protection?”

“I want safety,” she said shortly. “Utgar, the Empire – they can both offer that. I would prefer the Empire, but I can understand how you feel about them. Utgar is a Valkyrie; he could demand anything he wants. If we only lived closer to his tent, it might be enough… You know his daughter. Perhaps if she were seen visiting us from time to time, even with Utgar himself, people would guess that we were more than simple Volcarrens, and know—”

“No.” Taelord had finally heard enough. “You’re not dragging Runa into this. She’s my friend, not some path to safety.” He folded his arms and looked at her, frowning. “These people took us in,” he said, nodding to the door they stood next to. “These people. They’ve shared their food and their home, and I won’t abandon them for some pretended protection of Utgar. I won’t use Runa that way, and I certainly won’t join the Imperials.”

She watched him for a moment, and then left, turning and entering the house without a word. Taelord frowned, but didn’t go after her. His mind was still trying to grapple with what she had suggested.

What had she meant by that? Wanting to join the Imperials, seeking more protection from Utgar? She wanted safety, Taelord believed that, but she didn’t seem to care how she got it. As if Ahnvad had sucked any sense of honor or loyalty out of her.

Taelord scowled, and shoved the thought away.

---

Rehs returned as the afternoon was turning to dusk, saying that G’shar would be along soon. He had managed to work some sort of deal with the dockmaster to keep part of their grain. However, one of the large Imperial trading vessels, which was docked nearby, had been burned in the night, and the fire had damaged the Windchaser, Yesen’s boat, as well. G’shar and Rehs had spent much of the day helping Yesen repair the damage, but it had been significant. Rehs said it would be a few days before Yesen could sail.

Rehs went to his room to change, since his shirt was stained with soot, and Syafa set about starting a fire beneath the cauldron, in preparation of G’shar’s return.

“Rehs!” she called. “When you’re finished could you get some wood from the side of the house?”

“I’ll get it,” Taelord said quickly, getting to his feet. He had been sitting at the table, doing nothing.

“Oh no,” Syafa said, “you’re a guest. I couldn’t ask—”

“I want to,” Taelord said, crossing to the door. “It’s the least I can do to repay you and G’shar.”

She smiled, and Taelord opened the door and went out. Split wood was piled high on the side of the house, and Taelord began gathering up several pieces. It was true: helping Syafa was the least – the very least – he could do. They had continued to share their meager supplies of food with him and his mother, and Taelord wanted to do something to repay them. Especially since the arrival of Utgar and the Volcarrens seemed to have accelerated the coming of the rebellion. He didn’t know if that was actually true, but it didn’t matter. He owed G’shar and Syafa. He—

“Taelord!”

He turned at the shout, and saw Veth and Scar-shoulder approaching, supporting G’shar between them. He dropped the wood he had gathered and ran to help, relieving Scar-shoulder, who seemed to have sustained an injury to his arm.

G’shar was worse. He was conscious, but grimacing in pain. He stumbled as Veth and Taelord half-dragged him towards the door, and Taelord saw that his side was wet with blood.

Scar-shoulder pulled open the door, and Veth and Taelord deposited G’shar in the nearest chair, where he collapsed, eliciting screams from both Aiiva and Syafa, who were present. Rehs burst from his room, and then paled when he saw his father leaning back in the chair, his breathing shallow.

“What happened?” he demanded, as Syafa rushed for the storeroom. She returned a moment later with a basket of herbs and clean bandages.

“Imperials,” Veth spat. “Apparently they didn’t like the visits we paid them last night, and decided to wait behind one of the storehouses for the first person who passed them. Unfortunately, that was us.”

“There were six of them,” Scar-shoulder said, wincing as he sat down and accepted a bandage from Syafa. “The cowards. They jumped us. Sliced G’shar with a sword before we even knew what was happening.”

Taelord glanced at G’shar’s injury, which was now laid bare as Syafa washed it as best she could, and started applying bandages. It wasn’t a particularly deep cut, but it was jagged, and was bleeding copiously.

Aiiva approached, her face white.

“I’ll live,” G’shar assured her, grimacing as Syafa wound bandages around his chest.

“We’ll get them back for this,” Rehs said shakily, staring at the bandages now covering G’shar’s side. “Tonight. Right now. They’ll learn they can’t do this.”

“No,” G’shar said, his voice suddenly stern despite his injury. “You aren’t going to make this worse, Rehs.”

“I’m not making it worse!” Rehs said. “I’m doing what must be done. The soldiers need to learn we won’t just sit here and take this anymore.”

“Rehs,” Syafa said, glancing up from her bandaging, “we need you here. Your father has been injured; I don’t want you hurt as well.”

“Your mother’s right,” G’shar said. “I don’t want you involved in this, Rehs.”

“Why?” Rehs said angrily. “Because you don’t want me to fight for what I believe in? Because you’re scared?”

“Rehs!”

G’shar waved Syafa down. “Yes,” he said, sitting up straight in his chair. “I am scared. I’m scared for you. I wouldn’t have you hurt.”

Rehs glared at him.

“War is coming,” G’shar said. “We can all see it now. Once the Windchaser is seaworthy and Yesen has the new hands he needs, we will leave.”

“We should stay and fight,” Rehs said. “We should defend our home.”

“We’re not warriors, Rehs!”

Everyone glanced at G’shar, startled. Taelord had never heard him raise his voice before. A new spot of red stained the fresh bandage at his side. “We are farmers,” G’shar said. “I believe in the rebellion. I do. But wars care little for the common man they trample underfoot. This” — he pointed at his bandage — “it is only the beginning. We must leave, before worse happens to you, or your sister or mother.”

Rehs watched his father for a moment in silence. By the fire, Syafa’s cauldron was bubbling, but she ignored it.

“Leave if you want,” Rehs finally said, his voice calmer. “I’m staying. It is my duty to fight, to protect what is mine. I will find the soldiers who did this, and I will make them pay.” He glanced at Veth and Scar-shoulder. “Will you help me?”

“I got a good look at them,” Veth said. “We’ll find them.”

“Come on then,” Rehs said. He strode to the door, flung it open, and went outside, Veth and Scar-shoulder quickly following.

G’shar sighed, covering his face with one hand.

“Father?” Aiiva said, taking a hesitant step forwards, her voice quivering, her face still pale.

“Stay here,” G’shar said. “I’ll talk to him.” He made to rise, but fell back into the chair, grimacing in pain.

“I’ll go,” Taelord said. “Stay still for now; let your side heal. I’ll ask Utgar to fully heal you tomorrow.”

G’shar nodded, his teeth gritted.

Taelord glanced at his mother. She was looking at him pointedly, but he turned away, and left through the door.

“Rehs!” he called, closing the door behind him.

The three of them hadn’t gone far, and they paused, Rehs turning.

“Will you join us?” he said as Taelord approached.

“No,” Taelord said, stopping in front of him. “I’m asking you not to do this. If not for yourself, then for your family.”

“For my family?” Rehs echoed. “Taelord, I am doing this for my family. Do you think I want to beat up soldiers because it’s fun? I’m doing it so they’ll know they can’t do the same to us without consequences. I’m defending my family.”

“Rehs…” Taelord stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You want revenge. You aren’t defending anyone. I know, I’ve felt the same thing plenty of times. Your family isn’t a building or a piece of land – they’re right there.” He gestured to the house. “Go to them. Leave this place as soon as you can. Go somewhere safe.”

“That’s my father talking.”

“Your father is right.”

“My father is a coward, Taelord.”

They were silent for a moment. Rehs glared at him.

“I don’t like saying it,” he said, “but it’s true. He’d rather flee than stand and fight for something.” He took a breath, perhaps trying to calm himself down. “We have to fight,” he said. “If we don’t fight, then nothing will change. The Empire will continue their taxes, draining and starving us into dust. I thought you understood that. You fought them.”

“We fought for a chance at life,” Taelord said. “You already have that.” Again, he gestured to the house. “Don’t throw it away.”

Rehs didn’t reply. For a moment they stood there, silent, watching each other.

“Are you coming?” Rehs finally said. “Or are you staying here with my father?”

“I won’t help you do this.”

“Fine,” Rehs said, scowling. Stay out of our way.”

“Rehs…”

“I’m doing this for them,” Rehs said, nodding to the house. He started walking backwards, returning to Veth and Scar-shoulder. “I’m doing this so they won’t have to be involved.” He turned and left, Veth giving Taelord an angry look before turning away.

“If you do this,” Taelord said softly to himself, “then you involve them all.” He watched Rehs go. There were no bystanders in war.

He hesitated for a moment, and then returned to the house.

“I’m going to Utgar,” he said as he entered.

G’shar turned painfully in his chair. “Utgar?” he said. “He’ll… He’ll listen to you? He’ll stop this?”

“He won’t,” Taelord said, collecting his sword from the storeroom. “But his guards will. He doesn’t want fighting in the streets, and his guards won’t want to anger him. They’ll help. Don’t worry,” he added to Syafa, who was standing by G’shar, her face white. “I’ll be back soon. With Rehs.”

And then he left, exiting the house and leaping to the sky, winging his way towards Utgar’s pavilion.

The rebels were here. Despite their efforts, the Empire had failed to keep Helsng from being infiltrated. Now Einar, the leader of the rebels himself, was here in the city. The rebellion in Helsng had all but begun.

Einar made himself known to several others, including prominent Volcarrens and Vel, as well as laborers throughout the city. However, he did not speak with Utgar or Vydar, and Taelord found himself wondering why.

Meanwhile, the atmosphere in Helsng changed in the course of a single day. Every soldier Taelord saw seemed tense and alert, gripping their weapons tightly and watching anyone – especially Volcarrens – who passed.

Everyone else seemed unable to keep from smiling. Cheering and laughter could be heard in the streets all day, and what seemed like the entire population of Helsng accompanied Leran and Nya back to their home, where they were reunited with their children. Food was showered on them as it had been on the Volcarrens, and the celebration lasted long into the night.

G’shar seemed to share Taelord’s worry. He had gone to Yesen and arranged for his family to accompany them when they left, though it would be a few days yet. Rehs meanwhile was completely absent. Taelord had last seen him with the crowd surrounding Leran, and guessed that he had joined in the celebrations, along with Veth and Scar-shoulder, who were also gone. He only appeared when dinner was nearly ready, and gave a non-committal excuse about forgetting the time. Veth and Scar-shoulder were not with him.

They had just finished eating the evening meal when a knock came at G’shar’s door. G’shar opened it, and found Kran standing there, out of breath, an excited gleam in his eye.

“Einar,” he said, then paused for breath.

G’shar’s mouth tightened – though he hadn’t seen Einar, word of his presence in Helsng had reached practically every ear. It was one of the reasons the Empire was now so on edge.

“Einar’s called a meeting,” Kran said. “For any who believe in liberating Helsng. It’s happening now, at Jer’s home. I’ve got to let the others know.” He turned, and dashed off into the night.

G’shar closed the door, and turned to find every face watching him. Rehs was already halfway out of his seat. “No,” G’shar said pointedly, looking at his son. “You’re not going.”

“Of course I’m going,” Rehs said. “I wasn’t about to ask that. I was going to ask if you were going also.”

G’shar frowned. “Attending this meeting would brand us as rebels,” he said. “Leran was nearly executed for breaking the law; I don’t intend to find out what would happen to us if the Empire discovered this meeting. I’m not going, and neither are you.”

It was Rehs’ turn to frown. “I am going, Father,” he said, standing. “This is important. You can take Mother and Aiiva and flee if you want, but I’m staying. I’m tired of the Empire telling us what to do. I’m ready to fight for my freedom. I can’t do that if I run away. I won’t.”

He walked to the door, pulled it open, and was gone before G’shar could stop him.

Taelord glanced at his mother. She was sitting at the table, but hadn’t said a word. She stared at the fire dancing in the hearth, and only shook her head at the flames, a small, sad motion.

Taelord glanced at G’shar, somehow feeling like he should apologize for Rehs. “I’ll go with him,” he found himself saying instead. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t… do anything foolish. And I’ll bring him back.”

G’shar nodded, sighing. “Maybe that’s the most I can hope for,” he said. “Thank you, Taelord. And… tell me what they say at this meeting. I would know what Einar has planned for this city.”

Taelord nodded, and moved for the door.

“No,” a voice said.

He turned, and saw his mother looking at him.

“Stay,” she said.

“Mother—”

“These rebels are trouble,” she said. “If you go, you’ll be involved.”

Taelord frowned. “I don’t intend to get involved,” he said. “But someone has to make sure Rehs doesn’t do something he’ll regret.” He crossed the room and hugged his mother. “I’ll be back soon; don’t worry.”

She remained where she was, frowning at him, but said nothing further, so Taelord crossed to the door, pulled it open, and set off after Rehs.

He caught up to him at the door to Jer’s home. It opened as he approached, allowing him to see that a large crowd had gathered inside. He and Rehs moved in, several others joining them from the dark night.

Everyone seemed to be crowded around the edge of the circular home in a great ring. There was a good deal of excited whispering and muttering, and Rehs and Taelord squeezed their way through the crowd to a place where they could see the center of the room.

Four people stood there, one instantly recognizable as Einar. Curiously, he hadn’t removed his half-mask, and neither had the three kyrie with him. Taelord wondered if he had to hide his identity because he was someone well known. Or perhaps he was disfigured?

Besides the mask, he didn’t look like a rebel. He wore the same clothing as everyone else – a simple pair of pants and a sleeveless shirt, with a leather vest tied over it with cord. But his bare arms were lean and muscled, and several raised lines ran across them, which Taelord recognized as scars. Sword slashes, or perhaps spear thrusts. Einar had seen combat, probably more than most.

The three kyrie with him looked more like what Taelord had expected. Most kyrie were clean-shaven, but these three all had the shadows of stubble darkening their chins. Their hair was long and wild, and their skin appeared mottled with dirt.

They wore the same clothes as Einar, but as where his were clean and looked new, theirs had obviously been worn for a long time. They weren’t torn, but the ends had frayed, and they were stained with dirt, so that they looked more like discarded grain sacks than actual clothes.

Despite their general appearance of unkemptness, the kyrie exuded an air of capability. They were all built powerfully, and their dark eyes watched the crowd assembling around them. They each carried a simple hand axe, tied to a leather strap about their waist, the head chipped and rusted. Unless that redness wasn’t rust…

“I think everyone’s here, Kran” Einar called from the middle of the room, interrupting Taelord thoughts.

He glanced to the door, where Kran had appeared.

“Everyone who said they were coming,” Kran replied, closing the door. “Quite a few were frightened the Empire would find out.”

“Understandable,” Einar said. “I don’t normally hold a meeting this large, but Helsng is a special case.”

Kran settled against the wall near the door, and all eyes turned to Einar.

He was silent for a moment, then he looked up at them. “You all know why you’ve come,” he said. “You believe in claiming your freedom from the Empire. I am Einar, leader of the rebels, and I am here to make that happen.”

There was an immediate murmur of agreement and excitement. Many kyrie nodded their heads.

“When do we start?” one – not much older than Rehs – asked from near the middle.

“Soon,” Einar said.

“Will we storm the keep?” the boy asked. “Burn Helsng? Do we march on Elenrul itself?”

“That’s why we’re here,” one of Einar’s men said, his voice a growl. “The Empire’s time is over. Helsng will be ours, and—”

“Enough,” Einar said. He glanced at the rebel who had spoken, and the man fell silent instantly, looking instead at the floor. “We are here to free you,” Einar said, looking back at the crowd, “but this must be done carefully. The garrison here is strong – even a full uprising won’t overwhelm them, not while they control the keep. So, as much as I know you are eager to strike against the Empire, we must be patient. We will win this fight, but it will have to be fought through subterfuge and secrecy. In open combat the Empire would destroy us.”

The boy looked disappointed, but Taelord saw many of the older kyrie present nod at Einar’s words.

“First though,” Einar said, “I must make one thing plain. There will be no killing. Listen to me,” he added, raising his voice to quell the cries of protest which erupted almost instantly. “Utgar, our Valkyrie, does not want a war. He wishes to avoid conflict at all costs. Striking down Imperials in the streets would almost certainly start a battle. Therefore, we will avoid killing. I don’t want to be on the wrong side of a Valkyrie, and I doubt any of you do either.”

He was silent for a moment, watching the crowd, but no one contradicted him.

“How will we free ourselves,” one asked from across the room, “if we cannot kill the Imperials?”

“We will exercise what we can do,” Einar said. “Covert attacks.” He turned slowly, watching the faces of the crowd. “The Empire can’t fight what it can’t find. Our job is to make them unwelcome here. Threaten them. Make the streets unsafe at night. Make them fear the Maze and Docks. Make them feel the need to bar their door, or better yet, leave Helsng to us. We will slowly bleed the Empire of its people until, when they have no men left, the time will come to finally take the keep. When that time comes, the Empire will have no choice but to surrender.

“Additionally, we recruit. From now on, everyone in Helsng is either helping us or helping the Empire. Any who are not prepared to do either should leave. You came tonight; go amongst those who stayed in their homes, tell them what I have said, and bring them over to our cause. Eventually there will be too many rebels here in Helsng for the Empire to fight.”

“What of the soldiers?” one woman asked. “They might be Imperials, but they are laborers, like us. They aren’t Merchants. They might… understand. Sympathize. They might join us.”

Einar shook his head. “The Empire had been careful to select soldiers who have grown up fighting wars,” he said. “The guards in this city, and the soldiers Jandar has brought with him, are all well fed and well paid. They believe in the Empire. They might be laborers by class, but they are the enemy.”

“And what of Utgar?” a Volcarren asked. “Will he join us? Will he open the Wellspring?”

“That is not for us to know,” Einar said, frowning. “Utgar is undecided. I believe he has no love for the Empire, but I know he also wishes to avoid a conflict. He will refuse to join either side for as long as he can. In time though, he will have to choose. When that time comes, I believe he will join us.

“As for the Wellspring, that is his decision. The Wellsprings were sealed for good reason, and he may decide to keep them that way. Or he may seek to open them. Either way, he alone can do either.

“We cannot rely on Utgar to fight for us. He will have to join us eventually, but until then, we are on our own. We will not anger him by killing Imperials, but we will fight for our freedom, with or without him.

“Now,” he said, folding his arms and looking at the crowd, “there will be no organized resistance. The Empire can predict and stop order. Therefore, I will leave how and when you fight for this city up to you. I will offer only direction: make the Imperials fearful for their safety. Act in the night to avoid detection. Focus your efforts on the Maze and the Docks first, and then the Rows, where the Imperials feel safe, but avoid the keep, where they expect an attack. I and my men will handle that. Finally, understand that this will not be easy. Many of you may be captured, and several may be executed. I will save who I can, but my resources are limited. Therefore, use caution. Do not get caught. The rebellion needs you.

“Now go, return to your homes, before the Empire finds us here.” He bowed his head, and conversation broke out immediately.

Rehs turned to Taelord, an unsettling light in his eyes.

“It’s begun,” he whispered.

The smell of smoke assaulted Utgar as he stepped into the small open area where the execution was to take place in a few minutes’ time. He breathed out, trying to rid himself of the scent. He had thought he had smelled smoke for the last time when he left the Volcarren. Choking, acrid… he hated it.

The smoke came from the wreckage of the device the Empire had been planning on using to execute Leran. No one seemed to know who had burned the contraption; Utgar guessed it had been a farmer taking matters into his own hands.

Most of the wreckage had been swept to the side, leaving only a charred section of earth where it had been. Here, a simple wooden block had been placed. A crowd had begun to gather, silent and apprehensive.

Near the wooden block stood a large kyrie. He had muscles to rival Kran, though his skin was blue – not even fair, just a deep, solid blue. Utgar had heard that many kyrie in the far north of Valhalla had such skin, but the wrongness of it still unsettled him. At least the brown skin of the kyrie here in the south was similar to the red Utgar was used to. But the northern kyrie, with their bluish skin and white or silver wings… it just seemed wrong.

The blue-skinned kyrie was standing still, a mask and cowl hiding his face. It was a strange mask, wooden, painted with a wide-open mouth and large eyes which seemed to be fixed in an upward gaze. Utgar assumed it had some significance in the Empire, but to him, it merely looked disturbing.

The kyrie stood with his hands resting on the haft of an axe, its massive head resting on the ground, its edge glinting with fresh marks from a sharpening stone. The new commander had been true to his word: Leran would be executed, with an axe if necessary.

The commander himself was present, his armor gleaming in the noon sun, his head bare, his face set. Jandar, Utgar had heard him called. From Dered, he had gathered that Jandar was a high-ranking commander in the Imperial army, and had put down some minor riots in Anund. It made sense why the Emperor had sent him here – he had experience.

Behind Jandar, two guards held Leran between them. He was standing, though shakily, and his head was bent, as if from exhaustion. Utgar frowned. What had they done to him? Starved him before his execution?

Utgar began moving through the assembled crowd of laborers and Volcarrens. They practically melted away before him, heads turning in his direction, and then bowing as he passed. A silence fell over the crowd as he moved through it.

He had left Runa behind in the pavilion, under the guard of Kirav. This was not something she needed to see. Utgar though – he felt he needed to be present. This execution – one way or another – would have a deep effect on the unrest in Helsng. Utgar should be there to witness it.

He stopped at the front of the crowd, Dered just behind him. The commander, Jandar, had watched him approach, his face unreadable. He said nothing as Utgar stopped, and turned away.

“Valkyrie,” a young Volcarren woman whispered, approaching Utgar from within the crowd.

Utgar turned to face her.

“Please,” she said, “you can stop this. You are Valkyrie. Please… don’t let the Empire do this.”

“It is not my place to interfere,” Utgar said gently. “I cannot stop this.” The words sounded hollow to him. He wanted to interfere. After all these people had done, he wanted to help them. But he needed peace. He needed the Empire.

The woman retreated, tears staining her face, and she was swallowed by the crowd. Many of them were watching Utgar, hopeful looks turning to frowns. But many more were watching Jandar and the executioner, nothing short of hatred on their faces.

In the middle of them, Utgar saw Kran – easily standing a head taller than most – Nya at his side, crying silently. Kran had one arm around her in comfort, but the other, Utgar saw, rested on the head of his axe. He was watching Jandar with a look of cold calm.

Utgar knew that look. He had seen it plenty of times in men who were about to kill. He glanced out over the crowd behind him, and saw it reflected in many faces. Most were farmers, but a good number were Volcarrens. In fact, as Utgar looked, he realized that nearly every Volcarren he saw had a weapon. Nearly all of them were near the front, where they could reach Leran quickly. And they were all watching Jandar and the guards with cold readiness.

Utgar looked back to where Jandar and the guards stood. Behind them, there was a double line of Imperial soldiers. They wore full plate, including helmets and armored wings, and stood shoulder to shoulder, spears at their sides. Behind them, there was a staggered row of kyrie in partial plate, holding crossbows. Utgar glanced at the Volcarrens, then back at the soldiers. Each group was watching the other, deadly still, waiting.

This wasn’t an execution. It was about to be a bloodbath.

“Jandar,” Utgar said, making up his mind and stepping forwards. “I would speak with you.”

All eyes focused on Utgar, and then Jandar.

Jandar frowned, but stepped forwards quickly, and approached Utgar. “Speak,” he said quietly, so that only Utgar could hear. “But know that this man must die. No matter how much I might wish otherwise – and I do wish otherwise – I have my orders.”

“Your orders are to keep the peace,” Utgar said, lowering his voice to match Jandar’s. “But if you execute this man, you will end peace, not keep it. Look,” he said, gesturing to the crowd behind him, and then the soldiers behind Leran. “Look. You can see what is about to happen. I know you can. You can stop this.”

Jandar frowned, watching the Volcarrens. “So can you,” he said, turning back to Utgar. “Those are your men out there, Valkyrie. Command them to stand down, and I will command the same of mine.”

“I doubt they’ll listen,” Utgar said. “They want to help the people here, and they want to see you and your men dead. The only way you can hope to prevent that is by letting Leran go.”

Jandar shook his head. “I share your concerns, Utgar,” he said, but I cannot act on them. “If I let Leran go, these people will see only that the Empire can be defeated. They will be emboldened. I will be practically handing Helsng to the rebels. That is something I cannot do.”

Utgar looked him in the eyes. “These people will attack if you kill this man.”

“Then they will die,” Jandar said evenly.

In that moment, as Jandar returned his gaze, Utgar understood. Jandar expected a massacre. From his position, the only alternative was to capitulate, and he wouldn’t do that. He thought that if he slew those who attacked now, he could quell the rebellion before it began.

But he was wrong. Utgar had seen it many times in the Volcarren: the Empire would wipe out a clan which had grown too strong, and all it did was unite the other clans against them for a short time. A massacre might delay a rebellion, but in the end, it would only stoke the hatred in the city higher. Someone had to stop this now, while they still could.

Utgar could see that Jandar was determined. He wouldn’t change his mind. That left only one option, only one chance for peace.

“No,” he said.

Jandar raised his eyebrows.

“No,” Utgar repeated, raising his voice so that everyone could hear him. Silence fell as all eyes turned to him.

“I am Valkyrie,” Utgar said, not breaking his gaze from Jandar. His voice echoed over the silent crowd. “I demand that this man – Leran – be set free, and the crimes he is accused of forgotten. You will not refuse me,” he said, speaking directly to Jandar.

There was complete silence. The executioner stood by limply, his masked-faced turning between Jandar and Utgar. Jandar himself said nothing, but simply watched Utgar, as if he was trying to read his mind, to see if the threat was real.

“No,” he finally said. “I will not refuse you. Release the prisoner,” he added, turning to the guards. “And tell the scribes that his crimes are to be stricken from the records.”

There was silence at first. The guards stared at Jandar blankly, Leran’s head went up, his expression wondering, and the crowd seemed to be struck dumb.

And then, rising like the roar of a distant waterfall slowly growing closer, the crowd began to speak. At first it was whispers, then murmurs. Then, as the guards removed the leather straps binding Leran’s wings and left him standing there alone, it rose to cheers, cries, and shouts. The executioner turned and followed the guards, and at a motion from Jandar, the soldiers fell into ranks and marched back into the keep, Jandar himself bringing up the rear.

People rushed forwards to grasp Leran’s hand, laughing and cheering, and the Volcarrens and Vel present punched the air and whooped as if they had felled the Emperor himself.

Utgar turned as people – Volcarrens and laborers alike – swarmed about him, thanking him, praising him, some on bent knee. He merely nodded at them as they continued to cheer.

At least Runa would be happy. She had wanted to help these people from the start. But Utgar worried. Jandar didn’t strike him as one to simply give up. And he had been right: this would only show that the Empire could be defeated. The rebels would grow bolder, and the people here in Helsng would seek to join them.

But there was time. Utgar had delayed the rebellion. Hopefully long enough for a true solution to be reached. There must be a way they could have peace… Utgar only needed to find it.

---

Taelord was not one of the people who rushed forward. Instead, he stood where he was, buffeted by cheering kyrie, and watched Utgar. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t relieved. He had seen how close they had come to a pitched battle. Utgar had done the only thing he could do – prevent the bloodshed. But he knew – and he guessed Utgar did too – that this wouldn’t fix things. The rebels were still coming, approaching from the south, and now the Empire looked weak, ready to be overthrown.

“What’s wrong, Taelord?” Rehs yelled from nearby, glancing in his direction. He had joined the crowd just as Utgar arrived. “We won! It’s over!”

Taelord gave him a half-hearted smile, and turned, directing his steps back towards G’shar’s home. Rehs could enjoy the victory. Taelord… well maybe Runa was right. Maybe he did worry about the worst possible outcome. But it was also the most likely. Taelord couldn’t see any way this ended well.

He came across Jer, and paused. The farmer was standing still, not joining the crowd, and instead looking at the charred remains of the Nasyka. He glanced up, and saw Taelord.

“Don’t feel like celebrating either?” he asked, attempting a smile and failing.

Taelord shook his head.

“No,” Jer said, looking back at the burned rubble. “No, I suppose not. We won today, but what is to come after… that I fear. And this” —he gestured to the charred remains— “this only proves we are closer than I had thought. Those willing to strike against the Empire are already here.”

He sighed, and turned away. “I’m sorry,” he said to Taelord. “This is not your concern. You should leave. You should flee this city, before…” his voice broke, and he looked down.

“We’re involved now,” Taelord said, realizing it as he spoke. “Utgar has seen to that.”

Jer nodded. “Involved,” he whispered. “I thought maybe I could stay uninvolved. That I could remain somehow neutral in all this, just like you.” He shook his head. “That’s impossible. I see that now. The Empire has forced our hand. We must choose a side. And I…” he took a shaky breath. “I choose the rebels.”

“And I accept,” a voice said from behind Taelord.

They both jumped, and Taelord spun around to find a kyrie in the shadows of a nearby building, watching them. He was Southern, with brown wings and orangish skin. But he also wore a mask, a simple piece of leather with holes for eyes, which only went down as far as his nose, leaving his mouth and jaw free.

“You,” Taelord said. “You… burned the Nasyka.”

“One of my associates,” the kyrie said, stepped forwards, though he remained partially in shadow. “But yes, I issued the order.” He held out a hand.

“Einar,” he said. “I believe you’ve been expecting me?”