Cath

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

Silbermine listened closely to everyone who spoke up, remaining calm despite the growing tension in the air.

“There are those who salivate at the chance to challenge a nobleglen. Not least the Lords of other Keraks along the northern border. These backwaters were not the place I envisaged for a duel, however.” Silbermine replied to Mallory.

Contrary to Shirik’s advice, the Glen soldiers had instinctively bunched closer together around their leader. They were natural herd creatures, and not even centuries of concerted effort to break this by the S’tor had succeeded. This evolutionary pressure had the unintended side effect of breeding Glen who were brave and belligerent on their own, which had a negative impact on the empire over time.

Silbermine brayed throatily as Itxaro stepped toward the destroyed bridge, pounding a gauntleted fist against his breastplate. His knights did the same, and it seemed to lift their spirit slightly.

“We press forward! Take your circle of smite with you, Shirik!” Silbermine called, as the rest of the group followed behind onto the bridge. Eva, in her hulking mech suit, brought up the rear.

The river in its current engorged form spanned about fifty metres. Going was slow, with many of the remaining uneven surfaces being regularly submerged underwater. The masonry was so damaged the travellers had to go one at a time.

Itxaro was close to the other side of the river and Eva was just about to start when Shirik’s demented laugh from earlier echoed around them. A deep, corrupted version of Shirik’s voice called out from everywhere at once.

\\”I haave seen the faaces of gods…”//

Two stooping trees on the far shore crackled. The boughs twisted and bent so all of the white flowers on them were facing the group.

“Shirik, is that you?” Silbermine bellowed over the noise of the rushing rapids.

\\”weep in your graaves…”//

For half a moment, it seemed that even the water became silent.

Then a sound halfway between a clock ticking much too fast and the wet tearing of sinews started. A black object larger than the Glen with four strong legs and innumerable tentacles sprung from the river. It leapt up towards Shirik, all its appendages aiming to grab the Iriad.

Two tendrils as thick as Itxaro’s arms sprung from the river around her and went to wrap around her legs.

A third creature, disguised as a large natural stone, shifted near Mallory’s feet. His vantage point sprouted tendrils and large jaws. Silbermine was in front of Mallory; he craned his neck to look around and brayed in anger.

“DEMONS ON THE BRIDGE!”

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

Zey waved away Kareet’s confusion and made signals that to Humans would be quite clear the comment was made in jest. The Captain then listened closely to Nellara, leaning against the gunwale and enjoying the breeze/sun combination. She chuckled to herself when it became clear that the Castigator wouldn’t answer exactly how many more brigades existed. It was always going to be a long shot.

Zey spent her time stuck on this barge pacing, talking with her crew, learning about what to expect in Arcaeda from the locals, and radioing the Jotunheim. Signal rapidly deteriorated once they left Ertisdea, with the boat putting a large mountain range between them and the ship. She never heard the distress call from the other group.

She kept active as well, jumping on the spot and practising kickboxing techniques she’d learned years earlier. This attracted the interest of some of the natives. Zey eventually realised that may not be a good thing and stopped.

Zey was chatting to the Glen, J’eon, when things went quiet.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, what are those scars on your back?”

She was listening to J’eon’s reply, taking it all in, when glancing around she got weird vibes. Things were quiet, and the soldier Tekeri were looking at each other all funny. Without really meaning to, Zey looked at the river around the boat. There was no other traffic to speak of, where previously they’d been surrounded by a bustle of activity.

Accessing comms, Zey murmured a warning to all the Humans aboard.

“Guys, something has the natives spooked.”

She watched Kareet stalk down the centre of the barge, her eagle eyes scanning the forest on either side.

“Be ready for anything.”

The sound of flowing water changed suddenly to one of…mud? They stopped moving as fast, and the natives sprung into action. It was only after a couple of seconds that Zey realised the river had changed drastically in consistency and colour.

“What the fuck?”

In the time it took her to wrestle the AR out from the webbing of her pack, the bottom of the boat had sprung an alarming leak. Black tar-like liquid shlopped all over one of the soldiers and was rapidly expanding.

Kareet started screaming.

“Abandon ship!” Zey shouted, slinging her backpack and shooting her gun in the air. It had an integral suppressor, but was still surprisingly loud and brought back memories of the hangar bay in Norway.

“Where are the life rafts on this thing?” She shouted, to no one in particular.

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

Silbermine shook his great antlered head in distaste. If having this flaming Iriad as part of his retinue wasn’t such a resplendent prize, he’d have hewn it in two himself already. Alas, every potential King of Mythadia must know humility during the Running.

“You jest, traveller, but the turmoil of recent years is not to be taken lightly. Real things fall from the sky, and rifts open in the earth. Demons crawl up from the deep to terrorise innocent townsfolk more with every passing moon. Before I found you, I was travelling to meet with the Mendicant Seers at Falag Núr. They believe these recent terrors actually came with the advent magics. What they don’t know is why it is only now they are becoming so…active?”

For a moment, Silbermine’s features were animated and curious. He wasn’t a grizzled veteran at that moment, but a curious young buck who spent time with scholars in the drafty halls of Kerak Núr while his father slowly went insane.

Silbermine looked to Mallory and laughed heartily, smacking the Human encouragingly on the back.

“We play to our strengths - if any running is involved in the games, I will supply fast, fresh beasts of burden. Like those that the Warden and other S’tor rode in on perhaps? I think you will fit inside or on its back. You seem light, with good grip, no? I’m interested to hear more about what sorts of attributes you might possess, so I can build a team around you.”

---

As they ventured further into the wide, flat marshlands of Sudenúr, the drastically different fauna of Kanth-Amerek became apparent. Flying insects the size of sheep with deafeningly loud wings buzzed from pool to pool. Their long proboscis probed the water to suck up eggs stuck to the reeds. Things that looked halfway between a duck and a monitor lizard raced around on two legs after spiders the size of manhole covers. Far off in the distance towards the shoreline of Lake Núr some kind of long necked, long tailed dinosaur which looked several stories tall.

Some of the animals took an interest in the Glen and Humans, who must have looked strange to them in their armour and clothing. Silbermine’s Glen shooed them away with sticks by day and ringed their camps with flaming torches by night. The blackness was a cacophony of unfamiliar calls.

Progress was slow. Silbermine insisted on making large detours to recover and mark boxes of equipment that came up on the Humans’ scanners. He was interested to see what else had previously been inside the Humans’ ship.

At dusk on the fourth day of travel they made it to the northern bridge between Sudenúr and Mythadia. At least, what was left of it. The weathered stone arch had collapsed into the river, leaving a thin ridge of uneven grey stones poking out of the water. The river itself had burst its banks in the floods just before the Jotunheim landed. While it had receded greatly in the past few days, it was still high and flowed quickly around the ruined bridge. The marsh crowded in on either side of the thin path the group walked on their approach to the bridge. Light rain pattered into the pools of brown water.

“Hmm. There should be work to repair this.” Silbermine growled, staring across to the far bank.

“Where is everyone…”

“My lord.” One of Silbermine’s knights spoke up.

“It is strange that the marshes are quiet for the first time since we arrived. Don’t you think? Listen.”

The annoying buzzing and rustle in the undergrowth was utterly absent. There were no flying beasts in the sky.

“Hmmm.” Silbermine grumbled, rain running down his face.

“Perhaps we should set up camp, and depart at first light, when visibility is better.” Another knight offered.

“We’ll be much safer on the other side…What say you?” He turned to look at his travelling companions.

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

“Thank you, Nellara…Again, for your hospitality.” Zey replied. Mulling over what the Castigator and Kareet had said. Was she picking up a note of discordance between the two Tekeri’s idea of safety?

“Nellara, that camp we passed before. How many more like that does the Ascendency command?”

She turned and smiled at Vigdis’ joke, a light breeze tugging at articles clipped to her backpack as she leant against the gunwale. Her mask hung around her neck.

“We could make a fortune! Will just need to find a way to lash fifty Tekeri to the roof. Kareet, do you like heights?”

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

“I am glad to hear you make good progress. I have instructed my craftsglen to assist in whatever way you deem appropriate. They tell me they are not currently able to make the same materials as you, but they are quick learners. With time, they will make fine understudies for you.”

Silbermine had given the flaming tree a wide berth since it had been clear he was disliked. When it addressed him, his ears flapped as if to deter a flying insect.

“Hunters from Sudenúr have foraged in those hills for millennia. They know every crag and ravine of that place, and gladly part with that information in exchange for the favour of their Lord. I imagine you must have seen many things on your travels. Does anything compare to our current predicament?” He looked back at the hill range and the mountains behind, then at Shirik.

The Mythadian group followed the beaten path as it skirted around a wiry purple tree and into the marshes. There were no hills in front for as far as the eye could see. Just one winding path through a misty field pocked with trees. The grass squelched under foot, and bugs chirped in the brackish ponds on either side. After a while, one of the knights began a slow and rhythmic chant. The Human translators struggled with the lyrics, as some of the phrases sounded very different from S’toric, like it was an entirely different language. The notes reverberated around the lungs of the massive Glen. Before long, the other knights and Glen-at-Arms joined in, harmonising with the stomp of Eva’s mech footsteps.

“I am curious to learn how you might approach a trial such as the Running.” Silbermine asked, ambling slowly among the smaller creatures.

“It is truly an enchanting event - a chance to prove your mettle and heap glory upon your name. Many groups participate, with some harbouring grudges going back generations. Any Monastic Order you ask for patronage has the right to enlist you on a quest. Is that something Humans are accustomed to?”

A few dozen feet from where the group trudged, two sanguine red eyes studied them. Inches above a pool of foetid water, studded into an obsidian head which could easily have passed for a rock. It watched them pass by, then sunk below the waterline. Tiny ripples followed alongside the travellers.

---

Zey stayed alert the entire time they trekked through the hills with the Tekeri.All manner of strange wildlife inhabited the area, and some watched inquisitively as they tackled the terrain. Zey took her mask off when it became particularly taxing, and the highly oxygenated air quickly restored her.

The high vantage points offered stunning views over plains and marshlands off to the right, and a dense forest basin surrounded by imposing mountains off to their left.

“We need to get a signal repeater up on that mountain at some point - that should fix any black spots. Anyone want to share that they’re actually a winter olympics gold medalist?” Zey joked to the group, using a handheld laser to mark the summit of the mountain they appeared to be skirting. It’d be a long and challenging climb, but if they were going to be stuck here for a while it’d be worthwhile.
Zey made it clear to her crew that there would always be one of them awake during this journey. They camped three times on land, and she took first watch each time. She spent this downtime planning their next moves, endlessly checking her gear and occasionally talking to some of the natives who appeared to be much more active in the night.

Eventually they made their way around the foothills and a view of a mediaeval village opened out before them. Nestled along a bend in the river, a sea of tents surrounded a cluster of quaint wooden dwellings. Zey marked this village on their map with her laser pen and hoped they were still within range of their lone comms mast. She took a quick video of it on her wrist pad as well.

The Captain looked disapprovingly at the boat once it became clear they would be sailing for the second leg of their journey. “Let's sweep the ship, make sure there aren’t any surprises.” She said privately to her crew. Zey then addressed Kareet.

“Are you sure these waterways are safe?”

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

Before Zey left for the Ascendency, she had a quick word with Ezra and Darnell. Despite not being part of the crew, they were important and less-than-predictable elements of the Human contingency. She felt it worth giving them specific instructions.

“Listen up. Anselm is in charge now, but I need you both to help her by being eyes and ears. If anything here seems strange at all, let her know. She’ll hopefully be able to reach both groups. Don’t do anything to jeopardise our position here - we’re in more than enough trouble as it is. And don’t fraternise with the rabble if you can help it. They’re still sizing us up, and an air of mystery might make us seem bigger than we are. Good luck.”

Shortly after the Captain and her group left, a pair of Lord Silbermine’s Glen-at-arms clanked up to the group destined for Mythadia. They informed the Humans that the noble’s cavalcade would be leaving for Keraknúr shortly. They were invited to ride with him as honoured guests under his protection. They’d be taking the most direct route back to the castle, through Sudenúr’s marshland.

Silbermine had earlier made a show of conceding his camp far up the slope. In exchange, organised opposition wasn’t arrayed against the main Mythadian camp creeping up the lower hillside from the swamp. This tent village followed the trough made by the Jotunheim’s rough arrival, and terminated not one hundred yards from the ridge that the ship rested on. Brightly coloured flags denoted particular services being offered by craftsglen and opportunistic merchants. Teams of young bucks worked rope pulley systems to pull shards of scrap metal from the earth around the trough. Spider drones supervised, blaring instructions in S’toric. One of the androids stood on the ridge cradling an assault rifle, looking down at the camp.

More recent arrivals stockpiled building materials at the edges of the camp that could be used for a variety of purposes. Building a border wall around the Jotunheim was one application. They could also be used to prepare infrastructure for a permanent settlement. A constant pung pung pung rung out as smiths began preparing all manner of fixings to begin construction.

The Glen-at-arms led the Human backpackers and lone mech through the tent village to an imposing tent which Silbermine had made his residence. It was pitched on a rare bit of flat land on the slope, and flew the House flag. Outside they could see two dozen armoured fighters being loaded with provisions, and in the middle Gesith Silbermine stood in full majestic armour.

The Glen all turned to watch as the Humans approached, especially Eva in her 8ft tall suit of armour. Then Silbermine brayed happily, clapping his hands together.

“Welcome, Humans, to our humble fellowship! The gods smile on our journey with fair weather and fine company. The path ahead is fair from civilisation, but nairy a night terror or bandit will trouble us with such mighty warriors arrayed against them. Now, are you prepared? Your leader mentioned you had lost something in the mire; my scouts have not reported back - we can search for it on the way?”

Eventually, the Mythadian party set off for a raised path that locals knew cut a relatively safe path through the marshes. Six knights accompanied Silbermine and the Humans, each with three Glen-at-arms under their command.

“Tell me.” Silbermine began the small talk after twenty minutes or so, addressing the group in general.

“How go repairs to your home?”

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

“Heard. Ping round a list, we’ll add it to our list of demands. It better not be unobtainium!” Zey shouted back to Arancini over her shoulder.

From there she went quickly back to her quarters and pulled on a light, fitted thermal jumpsuit. Grey, with Tamerlane’s logo on the breast. Zey then grabbed the pack she’d partly prepared last night from off the bed and took a quick look round the cramped, slightly uneven cabin. Breathing deeply a few times, she then locked the doors and went back downstairs.

Keying into the store room, Zey grabbed MREs. She then crossed to the armoury and unlocked a carbine with six magazines. She didn’t really have much experience with the M4’s distant successors, but had been frequently told they were easy to handle. After snapping it onto the side of her pack and slipping each magazine into webbed pockets, she approached Mallory who was doing the same.

“Listen…I know you have your reservations about this mission. But we won’t survive if we let others decide our fate. At this very moment, they’re enchanted by us, but it won’t last forever. Make the most of the mystique, get the supplies we need, then we can get the hell out of here. Hoo’ah?”

Vigdis was waiting at the bottom of the ramp when Zey exited fully equipped.

Zey smiled, then opened the map on her wristpad and turned her arm so Vigdis could see.

“Check the intranet. Kareet let us scan hers.”

She overlaid scans from the comms tower, which added 3D topography to the surrounding two hundred miles.

“It looks like we’ll have an escort each way, but we can’t be complacent. You ready?”

Zey cast an eye around. The crash site was a hive of activity, on both sides of the border. Plenty of warriors, with a fair smattering of dignitaries now too.

What Are You Listening To?

How high can we count before a mod gets involved?

15

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

Zey’s mask hung round her neck while she had a rare drink of the cloying morning air. Goosebumps prickled all up the back of her neck and down her arms. She ran one hand through her buzz cut. It made a rough rustling sound, like wire wool.

A faint smell of charred wood wafted into her nostrils. Zey looked at the small piles of ash in one corner of the clearing where they’d burned their dead. Her jaw tightened, and she tried not to think about Kiran joking with her at his crew interview.

Mallory opened up a comms channel, so Zey shoved an earpiece in and knelt down in the dirt.

“Comms will be patchy, but we have a good team going each way. We need to show these people we mean business, or someone is going to try their luck.”

“Sir, I've reviewed the comms mast three times.” Anselm entered the chat, from her position down the hill picking through bits of wreckage.

“We should be able to make a connection for three to four hundred miles. The weather is so-so, which means there may be black spots. But a close range network should have no problems.”

“Exactly. We may not be able to talk to each other but I trust you’ll get what we need and make a good impression. It’ll be just like a Space Academy dinner, Commander.”

Zey smiled. While she gave Mallory a lot of shit, she liked him and was trying to put him at ease.

She looked up upon hearing a squelching sound of claws in the mud. The one her computer identified as Kerchak/Kolva was approaching.

“Good morning. Feeling better? Sure.” Zey grinned humourlessly.

She nodded graciously when Kolvar apologised.

“I accept your apology. And you know what? I apologise too. This place, it’s… all new to us. We’re still trying to make sense of you all. What you did and said yesterday was…rash.” Zey chuckled drily as she reminisced.

“But you remind me of New Young Turks like my parents. They were persecuted and ridiculed by the new republic, forced to hide. They got drunk and passionate too. They just wanted to help.”

The Captain stared up at Kolvar from her seated position.

“Which is why I asked our doctor to bring out the wounded for you to examine.”
Arancini approached and gave her an update.

“Nice. How does it go with fabricating replacement parts for the VTOL?”

Zey flicked her comms back on.

“Doctor. How are we doing?”

“Coming down the ramp now, Captain.”

The ship’s doctor and his two assistants descended to the clearing, attending to three wounded humans. One had his leg in a cast, one had a bandage wrapped around most of their head, the other one had bandages around a gunshot wound through their shoulder.

“Kolvar. Remember our deal.” Zey’s eyes bored into the Kriliteran.

“If you transform without my permission, I’ll kill you. Heal my people, and I’ll be in your debt.”

The patients and their escorts arrived at Jotunheim’s telescopic docking ramp. Feng approached Zey and Kolvar. The Captain extended her arm and the doctor hauled her to her feet.

“Doctor, this Tekeri is going to examine our wounded now. I’m going to get ready.”

She turned her translator off.

“Watch him.”

Zey then turned on crew wide comms.

“This is your Captain. Giddy up, we leave in 20.”

She stalked back up the ramp into the ship.