Children of the Gods: The Books of the World Spectrum, #2

By Tyler Edwards

Seven thousand years ago, the Old Gods' human lieutenants were executed so that humanity could begin a new age free from the sins of the past.

Or so history records. The truth is much different.

Still reeling from the Old Gods' return, Leha and her allies must now confront their fallen cousins in a war that will not only imperil humanity's survival, but also its very soul.

* * *

Sequel to Rage of the Old Gods.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tyler Edwards
• Release date: Jun 2, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301101931

Tyler Edwards

A freelance writer by trade, Tyler Edwards has been creating worlds for as long as he can remember. He grew up in the country outside of Ottawa, Canada, and amidst the pristine woods and fields, it was easy to imagine Elves and Demons around every bend. After that, making the jump to fiction writing seemed natural. He will not consider himself a true success until people are writing nonsensical slash fics about his characters.

Book preview

Children of the Gods

By Tyler F.M. Edwards

Copyright 2013 Tyler F.M. Edwards

Cover art by Nathalie Kraemer

Smashwords Edition

License notes:

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of contents:

Acknowledgements

About the author

Prologue: The Unwanted

Chapter one: Happy birthday

Chapter two: Beautiful Things Lost Forever

Chapter three: The Arcanids

Chapter four: Irredeemable

Chapter five: The Siege

Chapter six: The Automaton Perfected

Chapter seven: At the Foot of Keonum

Chapter eight: The Predator

Chapter nine: Night Terrors

Chapter ten: Powerless

Chapter eleven: Redemption

Chapter twelve: Humanity Falls Silent

Chapter thirteen: Triumph of the Arcanids

Chapter fourteen: The Promise

Chapter fifteen: The Storm

Chapter sixteen: Into the Maw of the Beast

Chapter seventeen: Twilight

Chapter eighteen: On the Numerian Plain

Chapter nineteen: Rebirth

Epilogue: Regent-lady

Acknowledgements:

Once again, I owe thanks to my father for being my biggest fan, and to you for reading this book. I laid the groundwork, but this world does not come into being until you imagine it.

About the author:

A freelance writer by trade, Tyler Edwards has been creating worlds for as long as he can remember. He grew up in the country outside of Ottawa, Canada, and amidst the pristine woods and fields, it was easy to imagine Elves and Demons around every bend. After that, making the jump to fiction writing seemed natural. The character he most identifies with is Yarnig.

Visit Tyler’s blog at http://superiorrealities.wordpress.com/ for updates on the World Spectrum and his other projects and interests, and for an archive of World Spectrum bonus material – including cast photos, short stories, and more – visit http://worldspectrum.net/

Prologue: The Unwanted

Seven thousand years ago,

Haluab Ziggurat…

They sat in the darkness, awaiting their fate. But for the occasional anxious breath or scrape against the walls, there was no sound. There was no hope of escape and no point to conversation. There was no light. Their captors did not deem them worthy of it. Likewise, they were given no water, food, or other comforts.

They were the unwanted, the cast-offs. They were those who had been loyal to the Gods, those who had betrayed their fellows, murderers and scoundrels, all those whom the heroes of the Liberation had deemed unworthy.

They did not doubt what their ultimate fate would be. They did not expect their enemies to treat them any better than they would treat theirs. They waited for the end in silence.

But that did not mean that they welcomed it. Most of them had been priests. They had been second only to the Gods. In exchange for keeping order among their fellow humans, they had been granted everything they could possibly desire. By divine right, they had wielded power and lived in the lap of luxury.

Now, the Liberation had torn that all away. Now, they were refuse chained in the depths of a ziggurat they had once ruled, waiting to be purged. They seethed with hate and cursed the rebels. They fantasized about the revenge they would never have.

The door to their prison squealed open. After so long in the dark, the light that flooded in seared their eyes. They blinked, hissing and growling like the animals they had become.

A thin, dark-haired man appeared in the doorway. His presence did not surprise them; who better than the great General Phanto to preside over their executions?

You are dead, the general said. You were executed en masse so that humanity could begin a new era, free from the tyranny of the Gods and free from the sins of the past. Phanto paused, his fingers twitching anxiously – the result of his revulsion at being in their presence. That is what history will record. But I can’t bring myself to begin the age of humanity by slaughtering my fellow humans. Those whose eyes had adjusted saw him grimace. "Instead, you will be banished. Our greatest wizards have scryed across the face of the world, and they have discovered a distant land across the ocean. That will be your new home. We are building ships to take you there. You may not survive the journey, and you may not be able to live on the continent when you arrive, but those are not my concerns. If you ever seek to return, I will ensure that you meet with the death you deserve.

You will depart soon. Be ready, and know that any resistance will be harshly punished. With that, the general turned away and closed the door, plunging them back into darkness.

But no longer was the darkness silent. Now, there were mutters. Where once there had only been resignation, there was now hope. Hope for a continued life.

And hope, however slim, of vengeance.

As General Phanto walked away, he fervently hoped that he would never have reason to regret his idealism.

Part one: The Lost Tribe

Seven years after the Automatons’ fall,

Tor Som…

Chapter one: Happy Birthday

Leha hid her face within the hood of her cloak, but no cloak could truly conceal her. No other Barrian in Retgard had claws peeking out from beneath her sleeves. No other Barrian walked barefoot upon the streets, needing no protection from the elements beyond her own calluses. And so despite her best efforts, admiring gazes and excited mutters followed her everywhere she went.

It didn’t bother her as much as it once had. She had slowly grown accustomed to her position as one of the great heroes of history. But there were days when she still wished for anonymity, and this was one of them.

Life after the war had not been easy for her. She wanted nothing to do with power, her innate fear of responsibility reasserting itself, but she couldn’t go back to being an ordinary person. She occupied an uneasy middle ground, and she often had nothing to do but think.

And when she thought, she worried about the future. Everything had been peaceful since the Automatons’ fall. But everything had been peaceful for centuries after the Liberation. Humanity’s darker aspects had been repressed, but she doubted they were banished forever.

Even the slightest of disruptions set her on edge. Every bar fight, every heated debate over resources between the new nations, every one of the rare violent crimes set her into a fit of panic. She’d sooner see the Automatons rise again than see humans back at each other’s throats.

The worst part was that she knew there wasn’t really anything she could do. She had done her best to set an example, and she could only hope that things would work out.

And so she worried in silence. Some days were worse than others, and this was one of them. Her home had become too confining, so she’d headed out in the hopes that the weather – overcast, damp, and unseasonably cold for late summer – would thin the crowds and give her some privacy. But Retgard was one of the largest cities in the world – not that that meant much anymore – and one could never be alone on its streets. There were still people to mutter in awe at her presence, to remind her of how much responsibility she held for whatever the human race’s future might be.

Retgard was a grand city by the standards of life after the war. But, like humanity as a whole, it was a shadow of what it had once been. They had tried their best; the palace and other structures bore intricate, magic-wrought stonework made by Yarnig and Erik, and statues and memorials to Leha and her fellow champions studded every square. But all that couldn’t conceal what Retgard had lost. It was barely half its former size, and seven years of growth couldn’t fully hide the ash and rubble beyond its limits. It would be a very long time before the human race recovered – if it ever did – and Leha worried about that, too.

As a chill rain began to fall, she slunk back to her two-story home near the heart of the city. Some people would have built her a palace, but she had settled for a dwelling not much different from the rest in Retgard – albeit slightly larger and a bit more richly furnished.

She opened the door and stepped into her spacious sitting room, brushing water from her cloak.

Surprise!

Leha jumped, looking about in confusion as nearly half a dozen familiar faces appeared from behind her furniture.

She was so lost in her own dark thoughts that it took her a few seconds to realize what was going on. When she did, she hastily plastered on a smile.

Happy birthday! Drogin cheered.

She should have seen this coming. Her thirtieth birthday was tomorrow, and she’d known her brother was planning a celebration – Drogin was terrible at keeping secrets – but she hadn’t expected anything to occur a day early. She’d been too caught up in her latest batch of worries.

She pushed her concerns to the back of her mind as she greeted her old friends. Doga met her with a hug, his deep voice overriding the others as they offered their congratulations. Natoma was the next to embrace her – Yarnig stayed in the background, looking as uncomfortable as he always did.

Eranna Tor Kellis, empress of all Tor Som, came forward, and Leha shook hands with the much taller woman.

Leha glanced around. How’d you shake the Imperial Guard?

I convinced them that being surrounded by the greatest heroes of the Retribution was protection enough, Eranna replied wryly, using the name given to the Automaton war. She folded her arms. Thirty years old, but you’ve hardly aged since we met.

Leha blushed and thanked her. It was not an empty compliment; Leha had aged since the war, but she still looked years younger than her true age. Instead of looking like a teenager, she now appeared to be in her early or mid twenties.

Eranna, on the other hand, had aged beyond her years. She was not much older than Leha, but her face was already lined enough that she seemed the eldest at the gathering. The stress of rebuilding Tor Som, and the rest of the world, had taken its toll upon her.

Leha’s friends sat her down and began shoving food and drink into her hands. They celebrated for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, feasting on venison from the Northern Clans, fine aged cheeses, fruits and fejo from Tyzu, sweet pastries, strong Tor brandy, and Urannan wine. They showered her with thoughtful gifts. Benefactor even made an appearance of sorts, reaching across the worlds to converse telepathically with Leha and the others – because of his kind’s dislike for Barrian summers, he’d chosen not to come in person.

The warm company and delicious food helped sooth Leha’s nerves. Her friends reminded her of all that was good in humanity, and she found herself happier than she had been in weeks.

But as the celebration wound down, things changed. Though her loved ones provided her with a constant reminder of the humanity’s positive traits, she would never forget her race’s dark side. If one added up all of history, far more evil had been done to humanity by other humans than by machines, and in the case of the Retribution, none of the evil done by machines would have been possible if humans had not blindly resurrected the Old Gods.

She slipped away from the others and went upstairs. She opened a window and stuck her head out, letting the evening breeze wash over her face. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the silence, trying to calm her thoughts.

After a few minutes, she heard someone come up the stairs. She glanced over her shoulder as Eranna appeared beside her.

If you don’t come back soon, the others will fight off the effects of the brandy enough to realize you’re missing. What’s bothering you? Eranna said.

Leha moved over so they could both look out the window. The clouds had gone, and they looked at the stars. Leha was reminded of a similar night in Marlhem more than seven years past.

I think you know.

Eranna nodded. Aye. I do.

If anyone could understand Leha’s worries, it was Eranna. She had been present for the burnings of Three Gates, Broad Field, and Heart; she had participated in them. If anyone knew the dark side of humanity, it was she.

Things have been peaceful for seven years. My people and the Northern Clans now trade freely. The survivors of Eastenhold now call Tors friends. Those are signs of hope, Eranna said.

Leha sighed, feeling the fear build up within her. I know. I’ve done all I can, and so far, it’s worked. But I can’t stop worrying. I have this feeling that something terrible is going to happen – maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but eventually – and I can’t shake it.

Eranna slowly let out a breath, her brow furrowing. In that pose, she showed the stress that being empress had placed upon her. You may be right. Each of us has the potential for evil within us. We must all struggle to keep it in check, and it only takes a few failures to cause another catastrophe. But this isn’t a battle you can help people fight. You have to trust that they’ll succeed. You have to move on and live your life. Her tone indicated that the notion didn’t please her anymore than it did Leha.

You’re right, Leha said, though she felt no better.

Eranna straightened. Come back downstairs. Be with your friends – for their sake, if not for yours. This is supposed to be a happy night.

Leha sighed and stepped back, closing the window. She put on a smile. All right. I could go for another of those jenjin pastries. Regular trade between Tyzu and Barria had created hundreds of new culinary delights.

She allowed Eranna to lead her back downstairs. She tried to put her concerns out of her mind, but she wasn’t entirely successful. She was beginning to wonder if she would ever be free of the fear.

The shrieking of a thousand insects, birds, and primates filled the scorching air. Random gusts of wind rattled the branch she stood upon. On a nearby branch, a creature with the glistening carapace of a beetle but the hairy arms of a monkey made ululating noises.

Amidst the chaos, Leha found a semblance of peace. Over the years, she had come to realize that Drogin had been right: she had never been the same since her first trip to Tyzu. A piece of this world’s wildness had been implanted within her. She found she needed to come here every once in a while and commune with it. Now, it helped to cleanse her of the worries that had dogged her for the past several days.

She leaned forward and allowed herself to fall. Her earth-toned hair whipped in the wind as she dropped at breathtaking speeds.

Moments before reaching the thick tangle of vegetation covering the ground, she channeled the energy of Sy’om, and her descent slowed to a crawl. Gracefully, she adjusted herself to an upright position and landed on her feet.

Returning to Tyzuan energy, she turned around and sank her claws into the bark, ascending so she could jump again.

Leha.

She started, nearly losing her grip. The voice belonged to one of Benefactor’s kind, though she didn’t recognize the individual. Since the war, they had been serving as messengers in exchange for goods – mostly silver – from Barria and Tyzu.

What is it? she sent.

The Pirans have requested assistance, the creature said. Something has appeared off their coast, and they are unable to identify it. The urgency of their message implies a potential threat.

A strange feeling of dread settled over her. Something?

It’s said to resemble a ship of some kind. No other information was provided.

She shivered. I’ll head there immediately. Make sure Yarnig and Natoma come as well.

They have already been contacted.

With renewed haste, she scurried up the tree and began leaping through the canopy, heading towards the local Lost One village and its jumping point. No longer did Tyzu bring her any peace of mind.

Leha had not been to Pira since the aftermath of the war, when she’d been seeking survivors. Though she’d always been fascinated by the nation, she’d spent little time there. It had been occupied until the end of the war and had suffered so severely that there had been almost no survivors to find. It hadn’t been until months later that someone had discovered that the remainder of its citizens had taken refuge on the isles off its coast. Since then, the Pirans had sought to rebuild their ancient land. Despite its ruination, they had accepted little aid. The last remnants of the Jansian Empire, the Pirans were a proud people.

After jumping in, she found herself in a military camp overlooking the coast. The view of the ocean was spectacular, and she found herself in awe of its scale. It reminded her of tales her father had told about his days of travel. A cool breeze blew in off the waves and carried the scent of salt.

As she took in the sight, she saw the reason for her coming. At first, it seemed to be some vast log adrift on the waves. Closer inspection revealed it to be nothing natural. It was enormous, nearly the size of a large town, and roughly rectangular in shape – though the front and back ended in metal-plated points. Leha felt her dread worsen. There was something indescribably ominous about it.

Soldiers scurried off to find their commanders as they saw her. She settled in to wait for someone who could explain things.

A moment after her arrival, Natoma, Yarnig, and Erik jumped in. For the first time in years, Natoma wore her gleaming suit of armor. A single-edged Urannan blade, the same silver-enhanced sword she’d used to defeat Automatons, hung at her belt. Leha shuddered at the sight of it, recalling the horrors of war.

After seven years of sharing minds to work their magic, Yarnig and Erik tended to walk in unison, mirroring each other. They’d begun to share many of the same mannerisms. Leha found it disturbing.

Natoma took in the camp and nodded to herself, seeming to find the organization satisfactory.

A man approached, flanked by guards. Leha’s eyebrows rose as she recognized him as Prince Tyrom, the ruler of Pira. He was a handsome but dour man with smooth, unblemished skin and jet-black hair. He wore black plate armor with silver tracery.

Leha greeted him, then asked, What’s happened?

The ship appeared from the southwest a week ago and has remained stationary ever since, the prince said, speaking Eastenholder without an accent. He had a smooth and surprisingly young-soundingl voice.

Before he could continue, Leha interrupted. A week?

The prince nodded tersely. Our wizards have studied it with scrying. We’re unwilling to risk sending a ship in close. It’s completely sealed and has no exposed deck, though we have noticed some hatches.

That’s it? Leha asked.

Tyrom looked uncomfortable. No. He pointed to an island off the coast. The guards at that lighthouse first spotted it. When reinforcements arrived, everyone at the tower was dead.

Leha’s eyes widened. Dead?

Natoma stepped forward. When was this?

Five days ago, the prince answered.

Leha felt a hot flush of anger. Five days? And you only just now contacted us?

Tyrom looked vaguely ashamed but said nothing.

How did they die? Natoma asked. Leha felt grateful for her calm. Her own worry was building by the moment.

Could – could it have been machines? Erik asked.

Leha had the same thought. After the end of the war, she had gone to the Watcher, and it had confirmed that every last Automaton had been removed from the worlds. But perhaps it had somehow been wrong.

Prince Tyrom shook his head. Some appeared to have been killed by daggers or swords, but others looked to have been mauled by animals.

Leha fought down the urge to shiver. Yarnig and Erik shared an anxious glance. Natoma touched Yarnig’s hand, reassuring him.

After a moment of looking uncertain, Tyrom said, We have reached the limit of what we can learn. We require more special skills.

All eyes turned to Leha. Though she hadn’t occupied any official position of power in seven years, it seemed that people still thought of her as humanity’s guardian, the Hero of Heart.

She considered refusing the mantle of responsibility. But she knew it wouldn’t work. She sighed. Yarnig, Erik, see what you can learn. Scry. Probe. Look for magic. Tyrom, get your people searching the area. If they landed on the island, they may have landed on the mainland.

A change passed over the faces of Yarnig and Erik as they reached out to an ice creature and linked minds. They moved off in lockstep. Tyrom hesitated, but then relayed her orders.

Natoma turned to Leha. What do you think it could be? The machines are gone, none of the nations could have found the resources to build something that big, and there are no records of any nonhuman races on Barria.

Leha shook her head. I don’t know. But I doubt I’ll like the answer, she added mentally.

Leha and Natoma led one of the search parties. Leha’s fear of what she might find was strong, but as always, her curiosity overrode any sense of caution.

They moved through scrubby forests ending in cliffs that plunged into the ocean. The area was beautiful in a damp, gloomy kind of way. Little light penetrated the gray clouds, and less made it through the lush canopy. Everything was damp, and the air smelled of water.

Leha wore the same leather armor that had protected her during the Retribution. Though she’d often wanted to get rid of it, she had kept it out of a sense of history. She’d brought it with her in anticipation of potential danger.

No one talked save when necessary. She heard nothing but the pounding of waves and the anxious breathes of the Piran soldiers. The Pirans were outfitted in beautiful, gleaming armor, but they held their weapons uncertainly. Unlike the other nations, the Pirans had not battled the Automatons. They had no experience. She hoped they would be up to facing whatever danger they might encounter.

Natoma, as always, was a bastion of calm. Leha was grateful for her presence.

Leha enhanced her senses, straining to detect every sound and scent. She changed her eyes to better pick out details in the gloom.

She heard a rustle that didn’t seem to fit into the normal sounds of the forest. What was that? she hissed.

Everyone froze.

Leha heard her heart hammer. She flexed her claws in anticipation. The Pirans scanned the woods with wide eyes.

Nothing happened. After several long moments, she relaxed. Just my imagination.

A blur detached itself from the shadows and impacted Natoma, slamming her into a tree. Hands reached out and grabbed several of the Pirans, pulling them into the underbrush. Their screams ended quickly.

A hum filled the air as Natoma’s silver-edged blade, forged to slay Automatons, flared to life. It flashed, and the scent of burning flesh filled the air.

Leha tensed to leap after the missing Pirans, but then another blur charged forward. The breath was knocked from her, and a humanoid shape, clothed in black fabric, pinned her to the ground. Much of the attacker’s face was covered, but to her shock, he appeared to be human. An amethyst amulet around her assailant’s throat suddenly flashed with a brilliant violet light.

The attacker raised a club. Imbuing herself with Tyzuan energy, Leha grabbed his arm with her left hand, holding it away from her. She tried to throw him off, but he possessed incredible strength.

Cries of pain and terror filled the woods. More of the assassins were attacking.

Leha’s thoughts raced, searching for a way to free herself. Her left arm was tiring. She activated her venom glands for the first time in years, producing the Lost One venom they had naturally been designed to generate. She clenched her fist, piercing the attacker’s arm with her claws. At the same time, she freed her other hand and stabbed him in the chest.

The assassin howled in pain and went into a frenzy, struggling to get at her. He opened his mouth, revealing sharp fangs, and lunged at her throat. Pulse racing, she held him away from herself and slowed him with Sy’om’s power. She managed to keep his snapping jaws away from her neck, but only barely. She felt the warmth of his breath on her skin.

Lost One venom had evolved to take down the savage beasts of Tyzu. It didn’t take long for the attacker’s struggles to cease.

She hurled the corpse off herself and leapt to her feet. Natoma stood among several charred bodies. Her armor was dented, but she seemed unharmed. The remaining Pirans struggled heroically against more of the assassins, but nearly half their number were dead or missing.

With a primal cry, Leha leapt at their nearest assassin and jabbed her claws into his back. His skin was tougher than a normal human’s, but it was no match for claws that had scarred the Automaton Lord.

Between Leha’s abilities and Natoma’s sword, they succeeded in bringing down the remaining attackers. One tried to escape, but a quick adjustment of energies prevented its exodus.

The Pirans cursed in their native tongue. One looked at Leha with wild eyes, blood coating his once beautiful armor. What are they? he asked in broken Tor.

Remembering those fangs snapping at her neck, Leha shuddered. No idea.

They took stock of their losses. About a quarter of the Pirans lay dead around them, and the bodies of several others were found in the nearby brush. Like the bodies Prince Tyrom had described, some had been killed by daggers or other weapons, but the rest had been killed by bites and what appeared to be wounds inflicted by claws. A few of the surviving Pirans were injured, but none critically.

Overcoming her horror, Leha joined Natoma in inspecting the bodies of their assailants. Leha removed the covering from one’s head, revealing a face that was almost human. His skin was an odd shade of gray that seemed to blend in with the shadows, and his mouth was filled with fangs, but otherwise, he looked much like any other man she’d ever seen. Further inspection revealed that the creatures’ fingernails were hardened claws bearing a vague similarity to those sported by Leha and the Lost Ones.

Leha found them baffling. In all the histories she’d ever read, she’d never heard of anything remotely like them. She wondered why they had attacked, but with so little knowledge of their nature, she couldn’t begin to guess at their motivations.

They all wore amethyst amulets. She went over to the one that had attacked her. This one’s amulet flashed when it jumped on me.

Some form of magic? Natoma suggested.

Maybe. I’ve never heard of amethyst having any magical uses, but I’m not an expert.

The prince has battle mages. We can ask them, one of the Pirans offered.

Leha nodded. She reached down to pick up the amulet. As her claw brushed the crystal, it flashed, and a shock traveled up her arm. She yelped.

Natoma leapt forward. Are you all right? she asked, her beautiful face concerned.

Leha nodded. I’m fine. Must’ve been some energy left in it. Cautiously, she bent down again. This time, she was able to pocket the amulet without anything happening.

They headed back to camp to report what had occurred. They brought back a few of the bodies of their attackers. Leha doubted anyone would believe their story without proof.

Off the coast, deep within the bowels of the great ship, a violet light appeared amidst an array of magical devices. A robed figure stepped forward, and long-fingered hands emerged from its sleeves to hover over the source of the light: a whirring device built around a rod of amethyst.

Within its hood, the creature smiled. It had found what it was looking for.

The camp was in an uproar. Prince Tyrom had ordered a general alert, and soldiers scurried about, arming themselves and organizing for battle. The other nations had been alerted via Benefactor’s people. Some reinforcements had already arrived from the Heartlands, a new nation occupying what had once been Karkar. Built by the survivors of Eastenhold and Karkar, the Heartlands’s name was both a reference to its geographic location and a memorial to Heart, site of the first human victory of the Retribution. Its people had suffered much from war and had been quick to react to this new threat.

Sirnra, a nation built beyond the Gormorra Range by veterans of the Retribution, was expected to send its own troops before long. Its name meant Land of Victory in Jansian, and its people, too, recalled the importance of the Retribution’s sacrifices. It was ready to meet any challenge.

Tor Som, the Northern Clans, and the Lost Ones had also promised reinforcements, though theirs would be longer in coming. Uranna was still too weak to provide much aid.

Leha met with Prince Tyrom and Natoma outside the prince’s tent, discussing what had just occurred. They could come up with no answers as to what had attacked them or why. Prince Tyrom was clearly shocked by recent events, but to his credit, he seemed to be keeping his head.

A Heartlander soldier ran up to them. It’s moving! he shouted.

What’s moving? the prince asked.

The ship! It’s headed south.

They moved to where they could glimpse the ocean. Sure enough, the ship had begun to move. Leha enhanced her eyes and saw that hundreds of oars had extended from its sides and were pumping furiously.

We should follow it, the prince said.

Leha and Natoma agreed.

They left a skeleton crew at the camp and set off, following the ship as it went around the coast in the direction of the Gulf of Jansia, the body of water separating Pira and the western part of Uranna. Sirnran soldiers joined them from various jumping points along the way until they commanded a small army.

Leha’s pulse fluttered anxiously. With the Automatons, she had at least been able to call on history for some idea of what to expect. This new threat was all the more terrifying for being unknown.

She remembered her conversation with Eranna at her birthday party, her feeling that something terrible was imminent. It seemed her premonition was coming to pass.

The ship came to a stop in a wide but shallow bay. It was the