CHAPTER II

  THE CALDERA

  19 Huntmaster, Year 23 of Peace

  57 Days Later

  The Caldera

  Silver tensed every muscle in his body as he braced his shield. Shield was a strong term, this was a small table strapped to Silver’s arm. Already the fibrula had begun to splinter and burst, Silver regretted not bringing some true solid hardwood. His left arm was fashioned to the shield using hempen rope while his dominant hand clutched his pendant of the enneagram. His faith was always with him, no matter the circumstance.

  Silver stood in a dark black sand, the grains rubbed between his scales unpleasantly. He was near the water of the Caldera Lake, which was still save a single barge moving to dock. Silver stood within the shadow of the mountain as the light of day had not yet crested the mountain’s opening. Silver was neither armed nor armored, dressed simply in shirt and pants that matched that of the local population of wrights.

  Sledge, a true hulk of a Pridefolk stood opposite to him, slightly hunched and ready to pounce. He held a mighty club of four table legs bound together in his right hand, tracing a line in the sand as he circled Silver. Sledge's fur was a mix of greys and blacks and browns, creating a striped palette accentuated by patches of silver scar; most were raked across his chest. His feline face betrayed no emotion as he prowled, his claws were retracted for the time being. Sledge wore a pair of ragged working trousers, the light linen rolled up just above his knees as his pawed feet barely displaced black sand.

  Silver breathed in and readied himself, this time would be different; he would block Sledge’s strike. He readied himself to manifest his faith, his channel to divinity would form an aegis from harm. Thus far, Silver had not manifested immanence with sufficient speed, Sledge’s strikes impacted the “shield” well before the divine aegis could appear.

  As Silver stood vigilant, his body tense as his eyes tracked the Pridefolk, Sledge took a step forward and whipped the club up and over his shoulder in an effortless motion that was far faster than Silver anticipated. The bludgeon left Sledge’s hand and flew at Silver, spinning across the divide with an ominous whistling. Silver chirped in surprise and began issuing an invocation of protection, but too late; the club slammed into him hard before he could truly begin. The shield and club burst at the impact, shattering into dozens of fibrula splinters as Silver staggered backward and felt bone snap. Silver blinked and stared down at his arm; his forearm dangled limply like that of a masterless puppet and bone had burst through his scales, shattering much of the protective blue coat from wrist to elbow.

  Sledge rushed over, a grimace overtaking his face as he beheld Silver's arm.

  "Dat was 'arder... um... wut ya need? INKY GIT O'ER 'ERE!"

  Silver blinked away the pain that streamed forth, gritting his toothy maw as his arm blazed in agony.

  "Just set it, I will do the rest."

  Without hesitation, Sledge's massive hands grabbed Silver's elbow and wrist, reorienting his forearm in a jerking, twisting motion. Silver nearly passed out from the pain, but kept focus entirely on his pendant and his faith and began channeling the light of the Ennead into his arm. Moments later, with a soft warm glow, his bones re-knit and muscle was restored as his flesh was made whole. His scales, however, remained shattered; there was little he could do but wait until his next shed.

  Ink's voice softly carried from behind Silver.

  "It seems all is in order here. I do not believe this exercise was to involve throwing anything."

  With a clenched grimace, Sledge responded as a twinkle appeared in his eye.

  "Well I were t'inkin' dat if we keep doin' da same t'ing, kinda defeats da point ya? We wuz tryin' to see if Silva 'ere could do a magic before I bonked 'im. N' well, I keep bonkin'im so I t'ink, wut if I t'row it dis time, keep 'im on 'is feets?"

  Ink cocked their head slightly and responded without emotion.

  "I see. Perhaps keep training and sparring to what is agreed upon beforehand, yes?"

  Silver coughed and exhaled.

  "No it is alright, Sledge is right. I was anticipating more time, but this was an excellent demonstration of how fast I need my reflexes and response."

  Ink's face gently moved in color from a gentle blue to shades of violet, their eyes giving no hint of their inner thoughts as their nose slits widened slightly as his double-crescent pupils widened slightly.

  "Perhaps, though I fail to see the usefulness of this particular exercise. Unless you intend to invent this as some new sport perhaps."

  Sledge chuckled loudly.

  “Aye, bowlin fer Silvah!”

  Silver muttered as he gathered up the littered splinters of shield and club.

  "I already told you, I am required to improve my response time and Sledge is more than happy to practice his bonkin'."

  Sledge smiled and clapped Silver on the shoulder.

  "Any time ol' pal."

  Ink watched as the pair cleaned their mess from the beach and donned their clothes.

  "When you are both ready, I believe Gale has an update on the job."

  Silver responded without looking back, having finished gathering the detritus.

  "She certainly settled in quickly. I do not think I acclimated as well as she has."

  Silver saw a flurry of movement from Ink from his periphery.

  "Everything alright there Ink?"

  The Lucidfolk had stepped back onto the pavement and taken off a boot and uttered a gentle incantation, Silver could smell the Stone magic as it oozed from Ink, the capability a holdover from his time as an Imperator.

  Sand exploded out of the boot far faster than it could have been poured and Ink’s face alighted in a mix of glee and confusion.

  "I do not understand how this much sand entered my boots in such a small amount of time."

  Sledge laughed with a hearty chuckle before falling backwards into the sand and rolling in the dust, Ink to recoiled and shirked back at the sudden plume of black dust.

  "I dun get it Inky, da sand feels right nice ta me. Is ex-fo-li-ate-ing."

  Ink watched in surprise and horror at the now sand-coated Pridefolk.

  "...word of the day?"

  Sledge's grin widened, showing an array of pointed teeth as he looked up at Ink.

  "Naw, saw sum soap 'n da boy sellin' keep on sayin' how ex-fo-li-ate-ing it is. I try me grubbers 'n it felt real sandy. Ex-fo-li-ate-ing."

  Ink narrowed their eyes, the sand had long since run empty from their boot.

  "I... see..."

  Silver had finished cleaning up and stepped up onto the nearby street, it's dark grey pavement cool in the morning air.

  "Shall we?"

  Ink slowly put their boot back on, intentionally avoiding contact with any additional sand as Sledge jumped to his feet and shook loose countless grains of sand. The Greypelts began the short walk back to the Caldera Shantytown, exchanging the empty solace of the beach for the clustered construction of the town.

  Sledge jauntily pranced down the main street of the Caldera Shantytown. He was a full head taller than Silva, who was already quite tall for a Starborn. Inky on the other hand, well they maybe just reached the bottom of his ribs. The morning air promised a pleasant sunny day, it was very nearly the apex of summer and the start of a new year. Face and Sparks had promised Sledge that the banner would all be back in Arx Boreas for the new year celebrations. While Sledge remained hopeful, each day in the Caldera made it less likely. The journey was easily twenty days by canal. He mentally grumbled that he had to endure multiple barge voyages while Face and Sparks got to stay behind and 'build the business'.

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  Sledge shook his mind clear and rather than fixating on that which he had no control over, instead took in his surroundings. It was the morning, the air felt alive and full of potential despite the chill within the mountain. The light of day had not yet fully crested the lip of the Caldera, leaving much of the Shantytown illuminated by the galvonic blue of arc lights mounted on the street along each block. Guilders and wrights aplenty were already crowding the street, bustling to get their morning grub before another day of labor. The pavement felt cool on the pads of Sledge's feet and the unremarkable smell of fresh redbread and lightly spiced stews cut through the odor of people in desperate need of a dust bath. Sledge sighed at the thought of yet another helping of redbread, longing for a plate of smoked fish, but such commodities were unlikely to be found here.

  Though the Caldera was partly filled with water in a wide lake, no fish grew here. Sledge had asked Inky about it and roughly understood that the water was too ‘spicy’ for the fishies. Inky knew all sorts of fun things and seemed happy to talk at length about them. Sledge mostly tuned it out, but talking made Inky happy and that made Sledge happy.

  Sledge took the lead as they waded into the crowd of workers. He did not force his way through, most who were smaller than him gave way and most folk did not reach anywhere near his size. Sledge could feel the rush of the crowd, their urgency was giving him contact anxiety. He breathed in and ignored the sensation, pushing forward to their lodging. Gale had found accommodations for the group at a simple inn called the Tawdy Bucket. He had heard Silver asking her how she had managed the negotiation, receiving the room for wedges on the ring, but she had remained tight-lipped.

  While the Tawdy Bucket’s exterior made for an unimpressive shack of shoddy grey-white fibrula, the thick coat of salty grime on the interior left one feeling somehow further underwhelmed and with a curiosity for where all the establishment’s coin went. A collection of fibrula stools and stone tables haphazardly spilled across the wide yet narrow room as many wrights polished off plates of their morning meal. Sledge’s nose wrinkled as his face scrunched in the soon to be realized disappointment of his breakfast.

  In the far corner of the room across a set of spindly stone stairs, an ill kept bar was staffed by an exhausted looking Sternfolk boy. Sledge was certain his name was 'olland. Maybe 'owland? 'oward?

  "Eyyo 'owlanard, can we git sum ale? Busy work knockin' down Silva 'ere."

  Sledge smiled at his Starborn companion, who met his gaze and Sledge quickly looked away. Silva's scales were a pleasant shade of blue and while the pleasantness matched his agreeable nature, Sledge could not keep eye contact with him. Instead of whites, his eyes were mostly a metallic silver shade and every chance meeting of their gaze raised Sledge's fur and set his mind on edge. He didn’t hold it against Silva, his past was his own and Sledge had plenty of his own scars.

  The bar-boy looked up at the trio and plainly stated.

  "Ale or mead? Last night you said ale but you complained that it wasn't sweet. So, ale or mead?"

  Sledge contemplated a moment before Inky responded.

  "Water and redbread, we need our full suite of faculties."

  Sledge felt his face sloop sullen, sometimes Inky was no fun at all. The bar-boy dipped into the kitchen behind the bar, arriving back with three plates of redbread drenched in gravy and three wooden mugs sloshing with water. He placed the meals and mugs onto the grey fibrula bar and looked tiredly at Inky.

  "Should I add this to the ledger then?"

  Inky responded quickly, grabbing their food and drink.

  "On the ledger for now, we will balance out soon, I am sure."

  Silva added a polite thanks as he took his set upstairs.

  Sledge took his plate and mug and stared curiously at the bar-boy.

  "Ya been 'ere all night lad?"

  The lad sighed deeply.

  "Harun never came in last night so, here I am."

  He grinned but there was no smile to be found.

  Sledge poked at the soggy disaster of his meal as he responded.

  "Wan' me ta look inta it? 'Ave an address for 'im? Mebbe' I could ask Stabby to 'old da bar down w'ile you git sum winks?"

  The bar-boy took a moment to parse the question before responding flatly.

  "Harun lives two blocks down main street in a townhouse on the right. I think it's unit twelve? If you have time to check, I'd appreciate it. I'll stay on for now, maybe close up once the morning rush is over. Thanks."

  Sledge nodded approvingly before following his companions upstairs.

  Ink partook the breakfast at a polite and appropriate pace. They took no joy in the experience of food, Ink was perpetually envious of the many flora of Arkhos who could simply drink in the daylight for their needs. The thought of being a plant was pleasant to Ink, they enjoyed the idea of being one of the mighty silverbarks of the shadowed forests of the realm.

  As they ate, Ink watched the others in the room, taking particular interest in their eyes. Ink found that many a secret hid behind the eyes of others. For example, Silver's were a badge of his service, marking him as a truly unique individual. Silver’s sclera swirled with variations of metallic silvers while his pupils formed a cross of rectangles. The silver was the true distinguishment, only those who had served as Imperators within the Illuminant were thusly marked. Silver didn't speak of his service and Ink had the sense not to ask; the Imperators had a reputation after all, being the enforcers of the Mortal Laws of the Eternal Empire.

  Sledge though, had wedge-like slits surrounded by a green iris. Ink remained confident that the emptiness there indicated that nary a thought bounced around the behemoth's mind. Sledge was, however, exceedingly proficient in lifting heavy objects and in finding those who did not wish to be found.

  Knives, called Stabby by Sledge, had gentle eyes; circular black pupils surrounded by a swirling miasma of grey as specks of hazel shone through ever so slightly. Though having the eyes and face of a Sternfolk, his Kindred build marked him as a Bastard. Now Ink had nothing against Bastards, after all they were just mixed lineages of two different ancestries. Ink did not understand why this was the name given to them, but arrived at the conclusion that others must simply be envious at the clear benefits of a mixed lineage.

  Gale’s voice punched through the stream of thought.

  "Ink are you paying attention."

  Ink jolted in their seat and faced towards Gale, who had clearly been talking this whole time. Her eyes too Ink found interesting, horizontal rectangles surrounded by yellow spheres which turned to a thin band of white sclera. In her eyes, Ink saw surface level annoyance, but hints of a deep pain that plagued her mind. As a Cloudbeard, she stood roughly the same height as Ink with olive skin and a beard of vivid purple in a complex braid that Ink knew had meaning. Around her neck, she bore a fanciful pendant of an eye cast towards the sky flanked by a circular helix of stylized lightning, marking her as one of the penitent of the Cult of the Matron.

  "Apologies Gale, could you repeat the question?"

  Sledge snickered into his mug as Gale stared coldly into Ink's eyes.

  "No question, you had a dazed look and your face colors were swirling. Now pay attention, I want to make sure we are all on the same page."

  Ink resisted the automatic reply of 'Yes Teacher' and continued consuming the redbread mush. It was unfortunate that Gale had correlated certain color presentations with Ink’s thought patterns.

  "As I was saying, I received an update from the dock master that we will be attached to a large shipment leaving this afternoon. The five of us will be responsible for getting it safely to Arx Boreas."

  She cleared her throat before continuing.

  "The expected travel duration is twenty days. Knives, I want you to make sure we have double the rations needed with a full month's worth of travel provisions. As a reminder, you are the designated guide on this convoy as there will be no other Myst Hunters present. The Guild will be providing the necessary alchemy for you to remain alert for the duration."

  The bastard nodded in affirmation, his shoulders sagging at the prospect of remaining awake day and night for the journey.

  "Over the last month and a half, the Guild has lost numerous shipments on the route we are assigned. The first missing barge vanished on the second of Paragon. The most recent disappearance was two days ago. The Guild is working to refurbish and fully staff the abandoned outposts along the canal, but this will take weeks to fully implement. Per the Guilds, there have been no survivors of these incidents. The barges still arrive in Arx Boreas, but no crew nor cargo remain. I do not have all the details, but the vessels that are returned are typically heavily damaged, barely able to float along the canal. In one case, the barge was snapped in half but carried by the canal to the Boreal Reservoir all the same."

  She paused and grabbed at her beard before continuing, twisting the braids with violent tugs. Ink was not familiar with the meaning of Cloudfolk braids, but these patterns seemed foreign and new, Ink guessed they were less than a week old.

  "As of now, we have no information about the attackers nor their purpose. All that is known is the disappearances occurred between the Caldera and the capital. None of the other canal lanes seem impacted including the parallel route from Arx Boreas to the Caldera. Our contract stipulates that we are to guard this convoy to its final destination of the Guild Docks in Arx Boreas. Questions?"

  Ink watched Sledge cautiously raise his hand, looking across the room at the others before speaking.

  "Ya, um, why are der so few mercs on da job? I mean, I'm gud inna scrap, but jus'da five o' us?"

  Ink stared intently at Sledge and found themselves curious at the answer as well as Gale responded.

  "The Guild believes this to be the work of small-time bandits and that the presence of bannered mercenaries should be adequate to dissuade them from attacking. Small groups are being attached to all convoys along this lane."

  Ink continued to watch Sledge's hand stay up as Gale spoke.

  "Go ahead Sledge."

  Sledge was fidgeting, rubbing two claws against one another as he asked another question

  “So ‘ave any of da barges dat went missin’ ‘ad mercs on ‘em?”

  Gale responded, sounding short and annoyed.

  “Yes I believe so.”

  Sledge face contorted into a grimace.

  “So wut is gonna be different? 'N what if t'ain't jus' bandits? I 'eard tales o' all sorts'a monsta's in da mysts."

  Gale narrowed her eyes as Knives raised an eyebrow and looked over at Sledge.

  "What is different is we will be prepared. And if we are attacked, then you, Silver, and Knives will put your violent talents to work. Any other questions?"

  Sledge's hand continued to remain aloft and Gale let the silence fully fill the room before acknowledging.

  "Yes?"

  "I got somet'in dat needs doin' roigt quick, can I borrow Silva?"

  "Make it quick, the barge is scheduled to leave at Four of Two. Silver, you have the hand clock?"

  Ink responded first.

  "No I have it, I shall go along as well unless my presence is needed elsewhere."

  Gale shook her head and simply stated.

  "Get to it."