4: Warm Welcome

Leiyn hadn’t known what to expect upon emerging from the other side of the Silvertusks, but it wasn’t the sight that greeted her.

They were at the top of the last descent when they gained their first proper view of the Barren. They’d made good time through the rest of the Silvertusks over the next several days, though the mountains’ majesty tempted them to slow. Tipped with ice and snow, the peaks towered around them, shimmering when sunlight caught upon them. At dawn and dusk, they glowed pink in the dying light, and the sight awakened Leiyn’s smile. Unpleasant and difficult as diplomacy would likely prove to be, she was glad she could roam the range she still called her own. A ranger of the Titan Wilds didn’t belong in cities and civilization—the wilderness was her home.

The Silvertusks evoked fresh awe in her with her lifesense open. Now, she felt the fire of life, down to the smallest sparks. The ice worms in the snow, impossibly alive. The blue-tailed hawks circling overhead, and the pikas and marmots evading them among the boulders. Every resilient plant that still grew or waited across the cold tundra for spring to come again.

And underneath it all, the thrumming pulses of the titans.

Her mahia had grown more acute with use and practice. Now, she didn’t have to strain to detect where a titan lay dormant. She felt them all around, slumbering in the land, water, and sky, be they lake crabs, river serpents, hill tortoises, or one of the many others. As they passed under Nesilfo, the Clouded Fang, she expected to sense the ash dragon dwelling within it, resting for another decade or so. That titan, at least, had departed, perhaps straying to the next mountain that would erupt. Still, she couldn’t take a step without traveling over a stone claimed by one of the spirit beasts.

Now, she truly understood in a way she never had before: this wilderness belonged to the titans. Humans were the ants allowed to walk its surface.

There were other sensations that she understood less. As they neared the end of the mountain range, Leiyn sensed pulsations coming from either side that belonged to neither titan nor animal. Frowning, she sought it out with her mahia, but it was a long while before she set eyes upon it. 

What she saw made little sense: the source was a pillar of stone. Wondering if it was simply a different kind of titan, she compelled her companions to tarry so she could stare at it a little while longer. The stone was striated with black, orange, yellow, and red, scarcely matching the surrounding terrain. The pulses of mahia came at regular intervals. Stranger still, beyond the pillar on the far side of the mountains, Leiyn sensed no titans.

“It is a wardstone,” was all Acalan said of it. When Leiyn pressed for more, the chieftain only shook his head and led them onward.

Knowing they shouldn’t delay, Leiyn moved on with the others. As they approached the last stretch of their journey, her perplexity was smothered by the sight that appeared below. 

Beyond the Silvertusks lay a wasteland as desolate as she’d ever seen.

Acalan grimaced at their expressions. "It is as I said. Only death reigns here."

It could hardly be called an exaggeration. Though the land was golden and brown, wilted grasses and stubborn shrubs its primary inhabitants, there were some signs of life there. Mesas rose from the foothills of the Silvertusks, canyons yawning between, and though lakes and rivers were absent from view, Leiyn knew there must be some nearby. The Gasts had made their home here, after all.

Yet her lifesense confirmed the truth of the chieftain's words. Titans didn’t slumber in the lands below; titans didn’t exist there at all. Unease trembled through her as she wondered if even they feared the Gasts’ enemies.

She still didn’t know who or what they faced. Upon their arrival, she and Isla, as envoys of Baltesia, were obligated to send word as to what forces were necessary to secure the Gasts as allies. She’d asked Acalan on countless occasions, and each time, his answer had been the same as the first.

Yet she’d faced death before, nestled in its embrace. This was something else entirely.

"Like the Gazian plains," Batu murmured. "But even more lifeless."

"Hard to imagine anyone lives down there." Isla glanced at Acalan with a wince. Leiyn wondered if she also thought of how the Gasts and other natives had been driven to such desperation by their ancestors. She wondered if Isla also bore the guilt heavy in her heart.

If the chieftain noticed their reactions, he gave no sign of it. Leiyn shrugged at her fellow ranger, then followed Acalan down the trail.

***

They were nearly upon the first of the mesas when the dust cloud appeared.

Leiyn saw the danger before her lifesense could feel it. Their view extended for dozens of leagues around, as high up on the mountains as they were. Those approaching were positioned at the bottom of the slope and seemed to be emerging from the largest of the canyons.

"A Gast patrol?" she asked Acalan.

"Most likely." 

Though it seemed welcome news, the chieftain wore a frown. Still, there was no other choice but to continue down the path. Leiyn made sure her warbow, already strung, was ready to take in hand.

The slope they descended soon leveled off, though it continued steadily downward. Leiyn trusted her mare to step true, but only so long as she kept a tight grip on the reins; a spill from Feral's back could mean a broken neck. The temperature grew milder the further they went. Though winter was nearly upon them, the far side of the Silvertusks seemed untouched by it. She wondered if it would be as warm as a summer’s day when they reached the bottom.

Before long, her mahia could distinguish between the riders. There were four of them, all atop draconions. Natives, then. She knew little of the relations between the Gasts and other indigenous tribes, only that the Gasts were the most numerous and powerful among them. Oftentimes, colonists referred to them one and all as Gasts, though Leiyn had learned enough from Tadeo to know that to be a conflation. “The Many Tribes,” the native peoples called themselves as a whole. Once, they’d united against the colonists from the Ancestral Lands, but it had been many long decades since then, and nothing promoted fractures between groups like privation. She could only hope they would be able to unify once more.

Across a span of hours, they closed the gap between them and the party below, until at last Leiyn could make out individual silhouettes. A little while longer, and they approached each other along a stretch of stony path. Leiyn, second in their caravan, reached to take her up her warbow, then hesitated. Acalan still went unarmed, and a glance back showed that though Isla and Batu frowned with worry, they’d taken a similar approach. Gritting her teeth, Leiyn withdrew her hand and instead delved inward, readying her mahia, though she scarcely knew how to use it as a weapon. The best she could do was suck the life from them, but only if she held them in her grasp.

Seek peace before war, Tadeo whispered in her mind. She hoped that, for once, she could follow his advice.

A hail came in the Gast tongue, and Acalan bellowed back a greeting. Their approach continued, slow and measured; not the approach of two friendly parties, to Leiyn's mind. Her hands tightened on Feral’s reins, but she kept her expression impassive. Aggression had betrayed her too often in the past for her to lead with it now.

She peered at the opposing party as they stopped twenty paces short. Like themselves, they traveled single file, so she could only observe the one leading. It was a woman, not much older than Leiyn, judging by the smoothness of her face. Her hair was shaved to stubble on either side of her head, while from the top hung many dark braids falling in line with her chin. Over a sleeveless tunic and fringed vest hung a turquoise stone on a leather cord, the color rich and deep as the sunlit ocean. Subtle red tattoos adorned her skin, differing from the leaf-green hue of Acalan's. A pair of spirals graced her cheeks, and three vertical lines were inked across her forehead.

The woman’s esse felt even more potent than her appearance. Each person's lifeforce manifested in subtle ways entirely unique to them. Acalan's ran deep and hot and hinted of red all the way through. Batu's was banked and tinged green. Isla's expanded from her in gold, like spread arms inviting the world in. 

This woman burned as hot as Acalan and expanded like Isla. It was the pure blue of water of freshly melted glaciers. She was like a rare bloom found in an unexpected place.

Leiyn had rarely beheld anything so beautiful.

The woman's dark eyes flickered over to alight on hers. Leiyn quickly looked away, cursing silently as she tried mastering her spreading flush. Perhaps she’d been too long without intimacy, or her jealousy of Isla and Batu had seeped in deeper than she knew. She didn’t even know if this Gast was an ally or enemy.

The woman didn’t seem to share her feelings. Her face seemed carved of granite as she turned her gaze back to Acalan. After a brief silence, she spoke in the Gast tongue to him.

"Well, you returned after all, Toa Acalan Tikau. Many will be poorer for it."

"And many richer," Acalan countered. "Were you one of those to bet for or against me, Spear Teya?"

Teya. Leiyn repeated the name in her mind. She guessed “spear” to be a title for a warrior of some kind, and not just from her choice of weapon.

A sudden grin spread across Teya’s face. “Don’t you already know? Yet though you came, it was not with the army you promised. Without the outlanders, how will you claim your cherished title, Toa’Yao?”

There were hidden depths between these two, dynamics of which Leiyn hadn’t been apprised. She stared at the back of Acalan's bald head, wondering just how much the chieftain had held back from them.

He jerked his head back. "They are rangers, Teya, and emissaries for their people. They will bring my army when they see the enemy we face."

The scout laughed, scornful. "If they have any sense, they will flee back to their stolen lands."

Leiyn found animosity replacing attraction with every word the woman spoke. Clearly, she was at odds with Acalan. And despite the rocky beginning to their relationship, Leiyn and the chieftain were friends now.

Pressing her heels lightly into Feral's flanks, she edged forward and brought the scout's attention to her. "Baltesians are true allies," Leiyn said, speaking in the Gast tongue. "We do not run from shadows."

Teya's hard gaze turned on her, and she found it again difficult to bear. Leiyn tapped on her growing resentment and coaxed it to burn higher, searing away any fledgling feelings.

"You wish to be brave," the scout said flatly, "but only fools do not fear what we face. Leave us; return across the mountains. We do not need outlander aid in our war."

"But we do, Teya," Acalan broke in. Rare had been the moment she witnessed his implacable control breaking, but he seemed hard-pressed to keep hold of it now. "We do. The outlanders have shaman-killers. Enough of them, and perhaps we stand a chance."

Shaman-killers. Leiyn’s shoulders tightened. She suspected he referenced odiosas. But surely, after his time in Baltesia, he knew them to be the bloodhounds of the World King, not the governor.

"They will not give them to you, Acalan," Teya sneered. "And even if they came, who is to say they would not kill off the last of our shamans? No, Chieftain of the Tekuan, your hope is as fruitless as ever." She seemed to think of something, for she peered around him to look at the rest of their party. “Taht Zuma—where is he? And the rest of your people?"

"They follow behind." Acalan didn’t elaborate. Leiyn's misgivings multiplied as she felt for the shaman's spark resting in her and found it. Not for the first time, she wished Zuma could offer the counsel he had in life. But whatever was left of him remained silent.

The scout's gaze burned on the chieftain for a moment longer, then she jerked her head and turned her draconion, a dusky orange brute, back around.

"Come. If you've lost him, you can explain it to the Tetrad yourself."

Teya cast one last darting glance at Leiyn. The scout's smile only made her own scowl deepen. Then Teya whistled, and her fellow scouts turned back down the path, swaying with their giant lizards' steps. After a moment, Acalan whistled low to his own mount, urging it after them.

Leiyn stared hard at her companion's back, channeling her embarrassment into fresh fury. Hidden currents moved here, far deeper than Acalan had let on. She’d known he withheld information about the enemies they faced; she hadn't realized he also held back on their allies. If even a common scout spoke to him in such a way, how much respect did he truly command? He was chieftain of the Jaguar tribe, but did his influence extend beyond it? Did he have the authority to make the alliance he had forged with the governor? From what she’d heard, he was beholden to this “Tetrad”—a council of chieftains, perhaps. She suspected these were the people she had to sway to their cause, not Acalan alone.

"Got our work cut out for us, old girl,” Leiyn muttered into Feral's mane.

She would have confronted Acalan about it all and conferred with Isla and Batu, but the narrowness of the path confined them to single file. As soon as they reached the bottom of the slope where the path widened, Leiyn coaxed Feral into riding beside the chieftain. She pitched her voice low, her words just audible above the movements of their mounts.

"Fesht, Acalan—what in Legion’s hells was that?"

The muscles in his face tightened, wrinkling the tattoos spiraling over his skull. After a moment, his dark eyes darted toward her.

"I will explain," he said. "But not now. First, we must reach Qasaar."

Qasaar. The Gast city beyond the mountains had been mentioned many times on their journey north, yet she still knew little of it. Her temper made her want to lash out at the mention of it again. Instead, she drew in a steadying breath. 

"So you'll have us ride in blind?"

His impatience wasn’t only for Teya now. “I have trusted you, Huntress. You must trust me now."

Trust a Gast. Once, she would have laughed at the suggestion. But though it annoyed her, she couldn’t deny that trust him she did.

"You better have a good reason for this," she warned, then fell back behind him and his black draconion. A bit of tension eased out of Feral as the giant lizard drew away. No matter how much time they spent together, the horses would never grow used to the oversized reptiles.

Leiyn fell in step beside Isla. Batu flanked her fellow ranger's other side.

"What's happening?" Isla muttered. "I can barely hear back here."

"Nothing good. Acalan wouldn't explain. Says he will when we reach Qasaar."

"Hope it's not too late by then."

"We come as allies," Batu spoke up. Unlike the rangers, he seemed to already accept their situation. "They won’t harm us."

Leiyn looked at Isla, expecting her to share her reservations. Faith, she’d long ago learned, was a frail raft to buoy hope. But Isla only looked over at Batu and smiled.

Leiyn set her face in stone and rode forward without another word. If she was the only one who entered the city warily, so be it. She would keep watch for them all.

Her eyes strayed to the backs of the Gast scouts, while her lifesense reached forward. Before she realized it, her mahia brushed against Teya, drawn to her lifeforce like a moth to a flame. As if she sensed it, the warrior turned and stared back with a flinty gaze.

Leiyn looked aside, wishing her cheeks didn’t warm. She would watch the scout closest of all.

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