(71): The Bridge World |
There were no stairs leading to the Beacon’s most secure level, but there was an elevator that could probably fit a small plane. The steadily descending platform was almost packed with men and supplies.
Most of them were gleam workers, with their affinities locked behind slowly glowing eyes. Those wore jumpsuits and, in some rare cases, basic worker exoskeletons. Crates and containers by the dozen awaited in neat rows. The rest of the crew were raiders like Nestra though most were C-class and obviously dangerous to her acute senses. A few gave her Bellerophon armor a passing glance before returning to hushed discussions. None of them seemed nervous so Nestra strapped her large backpack tighter and took a deep breath.
This was it. The Threshold. She was about to find out how Earth was linked to the rest of the many worlds.
With nary a beep, the elevator stopped, twin doors opening with good speed. Zeta radiation was so thick it made her want to shed her mask. The workers rushed forward with practiced efficiency, moving material either by hand or with forklifts. As for Nestra, she followed the other warriors while doing her best not to look too much like a yokel. It was a little hard.
The massive portal occupying much of the underground bunker was perhaps five stories tall, an order of magnitude larger than anything else she’d ever seen, even in educational videos. The well-lit, square space it was contained in was devoid of cover or decoration barring perhaps the shipping containers lying to her left. Sober yellow lines painted over the room’s steel showed, and the usual crosses that meant ‘don’t stand there, stupid’. The most improbable sight was the metal iris slowly sliding open over the portal’s aperture. Threshold had actually built a portal blockade. Nestra knew it was feasible if expensive to maintain, but she’d never seen it actually done before. There had to be two million creds of mana materials in there and it had to be changed manually, since portals tended to eat material around them. Her gaze traveled to the roof where massive circles showed buried gun turrets. She sure wished she’d had one of those to deal with the kaiju.
The same people who criticized her for having a home defense cannon had much larger ones guarding their backdoor. Tsk tsk. The hypocrisy was simply staggering. Nestra shook her head. An important-looking worker gleam checked an old-fashioned watch before whistling. His men moved through the aperture at a brisk pace, carrying crates or large metal parts. Nestra remembered that vehicles could only get through if they were carried piece by piece which had to make logistics a nightmare. The workers were going to be here all day.
Nestra wondered if there were some enchanted space rings or trunks that contained much more than they should in more advanced civilizations, like she’d seen them mentioned in forum posts. There had to be. It was just too convenient to pass up. While she considered grilling Sereth on those, the raiders marched forward at a sedate pace, taking half of the aperture for themselves and blocking the workers for half a minute. Nestra wasn’t surprised by the maneuver, especially after so many raiders lost their lives defending the Threshold. The hierarchy among gleams couldn’t have been made more obvious. Finally it was her turn and she moved in with some trepidation.
The portal absorbed her human body easily. She was through.
It was warm here, and sunny, the army camp before her lit by a pleasant orange light. The sterile scent of the steel bunker was replaced by a rich mix but it wasn’t a pleasant one. It smelled like charred meat and underneath, the silky stench of spoiled meat. Black, sooty smoke rose somewhere to her right.
“First time?”
“Yes,” Nestra replied, swallowing the ‘sir’ that had threatened to escape her lips.
“Alright. Let me see your ID.”
Nestra produced it though she was pretty sure he didn’t need it. He was wearing a visor and… oh, he probably didn’t have access to Threshold’s database. This was a portal world.
A permanent one. Still weird.
“Alright, you were scheduled. You will report to reserve officer Mazingwe.”
“Pardon? Doctor Mazingwe?”
“You know of him then. Block C, 16-2. Here is your summons.”
He actually handed her a paper sheet like it was 1980 or something.
“Don’t I get a visor?”
“Sorry, raider, you’re not important enough. Two last things. First, have you voted?”
“Yes, before leaving.”
He checked something on his datasheet.
“Good, that’s done. Have you written your will?”
“Damn.”
“We’ve carried over two hundred and eighty coffins back over the past few days. So. Your will?”
“It’s up to date.”
“Good. Welcome to Camp Riel. Good luck, raider.”
And she was dismissed. Fortunately, there were directions clearly indicated everywhere so that even the most boneheaded grunt could find their way provided they were literate. She studied the camp as she moved on, noticing how clean and orderly it was. There were still some signs that shit had gone down, mostly blood trails leading to a nearby infirmary in front of which a doctor was asleep holding a bottle of beer. Someone had placed a coat over her shoulders even though the weather was more than clement. Tall tents and distant walls meant she couldn’t see anything of the world except for distant forest-covered hills. She ended in C-block after a couple of minutes of march, and stopped.
There was a small open field on her right. On that field were a few raiders and army gleams, and something that caught her attention with a morbid fascination. Standing half again as tall as the leading human was a serpentine creature she’d only ever seen in documentaries before. It had a short tail, a narrow frame, a wide mouth devoid of lips, and scales a motley green. A crest adorned the top of its head. It wore a leather harness from which hung a long spear. Nestra’s hand tightened at the sight of Earth’s first invader, not out of anger, but because she felt like an invader as well.
Her true self stirred. There was a peculiar sort of hunger there that made her want to lick her lips. It was… interesting new prey. She had to collect it. A lizardman. Or lizardwoman, hard to say since they didn’t have many tells.
“You alright there sis?” a deep voice asked.
Nestra turned to an absolute boulder of a man, dark-skinned with red worried eyes. She frowned.
“Hmm, yeah.”
“Just don’t attack him, aye? Because that would be bad. His tribe is, well, allies. I think.”
“I wasn’t going to. It was just my first time seeing a lizardman in the flesh.”
“First time here aye? Well, if you haven’t been told, they’re auxiliaries from the Carved Tusk. I said they were allies but they didn’t warn us about the attack so… things are a bit tense.”
“Right. And the first-gens are ok with that?”
“I don’t think they like them very much, aye. I’ve seen first gens lay into the buggers. Not a pretty sight to see. But they obey. We all do or we’re out, right?”
“Ok. And what do they do? The Carved Tusk lizardmen, I mean.”
“Trade, information. Common hunts. They must have known about the attack though, but lizardmen are… they don’t see a problem with holding back info from us if their brethren promised more.”
“Ok? That still sounds pretty bad.”
“You’ll get an information packet now that you’re here. Don’t worry.”
“Alright. Well, thanks for answering my questions.”
“No wakkas. You take care out there. You’re still D-class. One javelin and…”
He made a throat cutting motion.
“Keep your eyes open,” he finished.
“Thanks.”
Nestra observed the lizardman of the Carved Tusk some more. He was hissing something while the armored army gleam just looked up, impassive. Two other gleams stood behind him while a few others loitered around, lounging against crates and pickets in the most useless attempt at looking detached Nestra had ever beheld. The army gleam was holding some sort of microphone linked to a datasheet, probably a translator. It made for a strange conversation, with the alien hissing at the human who would answer in calm English after a short delay.
“We have decided to gather the remains in burnable body bags.”
“Yes we are aware of the importance of last rites, which is why we have not put them all in mass graves.”
The hiss, this time, felt angry. The lizardman took a step forward and every last one of the twelve or so humans present shifted, eyes fixed on the intruder with pure intensity.
The lizardman backed off.
“You had three days to proceed, now they present a sanitary risk.”
“Yes I’m aware that there are a lot of bodies. The fact remains that they’ve started to rot.”
“We are not asking for your authorization. We are informing you that we will proceed at sundown. Either you finish before then or you get ready to receive the body bags which you can handle any way you want. This is all you will get from us.”
“We are not ‘friends of the clan’ if you do not warn us of impending assaults. The Red Giant is very displeased with you right now, as is the Steel Wolf.”
There was a long hiss after that. The army gleams used a visor to talk in such a low voice even Nestra’s gleam hearing couldn’t pick it. She wished she could have taken her visor but obviously they were not allowed outside tech in the big secretive bridge world.
“Our fire is still your fire,” the army gleam finished. “until the next meeting of the tribes. Go and convey my message. We are done here.”
The gleam walked out, leaving the lizardman behind as his escort filed after him. A pair of yellow slanted eyes found Nestra. A snake tongue slithered out, tasting the air. Nestra’s hand ached from not grabbing her sword but the creature left in the opposite direction.
Meeting a non hostile alien after so long was a… very disconcerting experience.
After that was done, Nestra properly introduced herself to the tall fire gleam, named Manu. They split afterward, Nestra already late to her meeting. She entered the assigned tent then was forced to do a double take.
The good doctor Mazingwe stood there in front of a screen table showing the topographical map of the surroundings — mostly plains apparently. Lots of trees. He was also wearing his Dawn Spear armor and looked very much like the raider he used to be. The piece of enchanted gear shimmered with a golden light in the semi-darkness. His own eyes landed on her. A haughty brow rose.
“Good morning, Doctor Mazingwe,” she greeted.
“Afternoon, actually. You will be needing a watch. Welcome, Clytemnestra Palladian.”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
He gave her a warm smile and the edges of his face softened until he felt more… human.
“Here is your welcome package,” he said, giving her a pile of stuff wrapped in a plastic bag. “It contains a distress beacon, a basic datasheet, and your introduction package.”
The distress beacon was the size of a tiny button she could activate then swallow if necessary. The ‘basic’ datasheet looked like it had been made in 2010 and designed to survive a nuclear fallout. It was blocky and layered, and already damaged on the top left corner.
“There is a local internet you may access during your rest hours complete with a selection of books, songs, and movies. About fifty terabytes of it.”
“That’s it?” Nestra asked, horrified.
“Well there is also porn.”
Augh. Betrayed by the horny yet again. She waved a stack of laminated papers under Mazingwe’s nose.
“What year is this? Actually forget that. What century?”
“I’ll have you know we were glad to receive such delicately preserved pieces of knowledge back when I was a young child.”
“Before riding home on the back of a brontosaurus?” Nestra asked, sweetly.
There was a moment of quiet when the two adversaries observed each other. Eventually, Mazingwe tilted his head to the side.
“Ah, I like you very much Miss Palladian, very much indeed to tolerate such disrespect. You do remind me of my little sister, may Allah keep her soul. The ancient papers you hold provide basic information on the camp and its surrounding. I will ask you to memorize them and return them.”
“Aren’t the documents also on the datasheet?”
“Yes, however our commanders have assessed that when we distribute those papers and specifically ask our soldiers to read and return them, they actually do read them. I will, however, tell you the story of the Bridge World myself, and then I’ll tell you why you’re here.”
“Understood.”
He smiled, then stood like someone reading a declaration to the populace.
“After Riel sacrificed himself, taking out most of the lizardmen elite with him, their ilk broke into smaller bands that were subdued one by one. There was… a lull, a time before more waves of portals appeared during which we had to decide what to do. Many of those who answered the call of the hero returned home, but there were others who decided to follow young Shinran to a newly risen landmass in order to investigate strange signals. We knew the landmass was abnormal from the start.”
“How?” Nestra asked, enthralled.
“Because the entire coast from Sakhalin to Sanya wasn’t utterly destroyed by the cataclysmic consequences the rise of an entire continent should entail.”
“Makes sense.”
“In here, the founding families of Threshold found a deep hole not unlike a crater, and inside that hole was the portal you just crossed. We thought that the breach would spell the end of the world so we investigated it, but we found something we never expected: another portal, and this one was an entrance portal too, as our flying scouts noticed lizardmen exiting from it.”
“So wait, they weren’t coming from the Bridge World to begin with?”
“No. They came through smaller portals they used as antechambers, or transports, if you prefer. To this day, we are still not sure how. Our ‘allies’ claim their leaders just directed them to hunt us.”
He took a deep, hissy breath.
“Although hunting perhaps isn’t the right word. But I digress. We immediately understood the importance of holding the bridge but we also saw the immense wealth hidden in this place. This world is large, it never closes, and the ambient mana is almost as high as that of a B-class world once you leave the vicinity of the base. We already have well-developed agriculture as you will see.”
“I thought Baihe was doing mana agriculture.”
“They are, and this is where they plant their best crops. Now, over the years, we’ve skirmished with the lizardmen since they can no longer reach us through the small portals as they used to…”
Nestra’s mind worked fast. She knew there were countless other worlds. Were they also linked by bridge worlds like this one? And if yes, then what did it mean for the newly included species? Did they become client races? Slaves? Food?
Extinct?
She shuddered.
“The City also made peace with one of the major lizardmen tribes. You might come across them. They wear a lot of leather we produce for them.”
He smirked.
“So far we have expanded very slowly, and very carefully. Many more lizardmen have entered the field though, so we are currently outnumbered.”
“Why not siege the enemy gate?” Nestra asked.
Mazingwe gave a short laugh.
“You young ones always react the same way. Such aggression. So eager to take the fight to them. It would be a good idea but for two reasons. One, logistics.”
Nestra nodded.
“Ah yea, can’t take trains through the portal.”
“We are still researching ways to… convince the portal we are carrying things. It might yet lead to something. The second reason, bound to the first one, is numbers. We don’t have them yet, but we will.”
“You mean we’re bringing more reinforcements?”
This time, Mazingwe looked almost… wistful.
“You are still thinking like a baseline, Nestra. We are no longer fighting a five, or even a ten years war. Humanity may have lost all but one billion of its population during the Incursion, and we may no longer have the birth rates of a pre-industrialized civilization, but the number of users keeps increasing and we are bouncing back. Our technology is merging with mana use. When I am talking about numbers, Nestra, I meant that we will outgrow them. Class-wise, equipment-wise, technique wise, and number wise.”
Nestra considered his words.
“The outbreeding part is a little bit fucked up. Especially since you have no kids, and I, well, am not… you know.”
“One of us? I am starting to think you might still be. Threshold is playing the long game, Nestra. We will regroup, reconquer Earth, and then…”
“Provided the portals don’t keep increasing in number and difficulty.”
Mazingwe shook his head, amused.
“On the contrary, we are hoping they will. Portal worlds are forges for warriors. Surely, you have realized this. They are almost… designed. But I digress. Threshold will build up and only when we are ready, will we push.”
Something didn’t make sense to Nestra, and since Mazingwe seemed to be in an explaining mood…
“You know, things could go faster if we allowed other nations in,” Nestra hazarded. “I’m not much of an international relationship expert but surely, a united humanity would be better at this sort of thing, no?” she continued.
Mazingwe shook his head. Once more, the human faded to be replaced by the first gen: hard and bearing scars the eye couldn’t see.
“When Riel called for the users to unite, thousands of those who answered paid the ultimate sacrifice. Entire families were wiped out, Nestra. Dynasties that could have been, abandoned by those who stayed behind, often for selfish reasons. Oh, we do have partnerships with many nations. Any city state with a basic intelligence division knows about the Bridge World, but let me tell you something.
He leaned over the table, golden eyes radiating now like sun on baked soil: merciless.
“We will wage war rather than let any of those opportunistic hyena ass suckers claim control over what Riel died for. All those who preferred to grab territory while we bled for their future. The freeloaders. They stayed home? They can stay home forever. Anyone who wants to join Threshold and bleed for us can prove themselves, but those who come making demands will meet my spear and Shinran’s might, and die for it!”
Nestra waved her hands up in surrender seeing as the ambient mana was reaching uncomfortable levels.
“Ah, forgive me. You were not here… You cannot understand. I will say more about the recent offensive and the mission later. For now, find your bunk in the opposite tent, unpack, and be ready for an official address at five.”
Nestra hurried to obey. The personal quarters were spacious but basic and they smelled of plastic. There was a battery charged by, as far as she could tell, solar panels on the roof. Only one of the four beds was occupied by someone who had the most bland taste in clothes she’d ever witnessed. It was kind of sad.
Nestra unpacked as requested, then she read through the information package. It explained how the base worked and where everything was. Impressively, the base had fields, a mine and even basic manufacturing capabilities backed by fields of solar panel. Half of the file were instructions on what to do in case of emergencies. As always, the city was thorough. She was barely done by the time a bell rang.
“Please assemble to the main square for an address.”
Nestra grabbed her sword out of habit before heading out. A stream of people followed the main path, many of them showing bandages of healing scars. The mood was somber but determined. Nestra had a feeling she’d come after the real battle even though she was earthside killing monsters by the dozens.
“Hey, it’s you again,” Manu said.
Nestra greeted the massive firespark.
“Hey yourself,” she warmly greeted.
“So, how was it back home? Heard the kaiju was not a lightweight.”
“Large turtle,” Nestra said, almost sharing details before she remembered she’d faced it as Crescent. “I’m D-class so I was closing low-level portals left and right in the city while the heavyweights fought the kaiju. Longest day of my life. We prevented a lot of breaches though.”
“Sounds rough.”
“Probably not as rough as here. We even had Central deliver coffee by drones.”
“Ah, choice!” Manu breathed out with envy, “my dream.”
The tall gleam moved ahead to stay with his unit while Nestra joined a group of raiders. They soon arrived on a wide open space dominated by a low platform. The entire right side was occupied by soldiers arrayed in tight ranks. Raiders gathered in small packs on the left side, a more cluttered gathering that reminded Nestra of open air concerts. It only took a few minutes for the square to grow full and she was lucky to be near the front or taller fuckers would have entirely blocked the view. Five minutes past the appointed hour and not a second later, a gray-haired gleam in an elaborate uniform approached the speaker stand. Nestra had only seen more stars on Ragnarok’s uniform. He didn’t wait before addressing them in a clear and confident voice.
“Good afternoon, everyone. To begin with, I would like to extend my thanks and congratulations to all of you who took part in the defense. We won. It was a perilous time, but you proved yourselves and made me proud. We are still standing here today because you fought like lions. This success is your success. I’d like to give special recognition to the medical corps under Doctor Alvira Cassin who kept operating even as enemies breached their perimeter. Their fearlessness in the face of imminent danger will remain an inspiration.”
Not applause, but roars saluted the nurses and doctors standing to the side.
“The most deserving of us cannot be here today,” the man continued, and a grim silence returned to the open space. “Because they made the ultimate sacrifice. Colonel Tseng dauntlessly charged the lizardmen ranks, engaging an A-class opponent to give the rest of his recon team time to warn us of the attack. He died to give us that extra minute that made the difference. He fell defending Threshold, and gave his life for mankind. Colonel Tseng was a first gen. He fought alongside Riel.”
The commander paused to let the impact of his words land properly.
“We have lost yet another hero. Another man who made history because without him, there would have been no more history to be made. He better than most understood what we must do, what we stand for and what will happen shall we fail in our duty. He remembered the days of the Incursion. As before, he stepped up in the face of desperate odds and this time, he died for it. There is one less warrior in Threshold, who remembers the first battles, because he never forgot the original cause: protecting humanity. We, ladies and gentlemen, owe him. More than we can ever repay.”
There were more than a few nods.
“He will be remembered, and avenged, count on it. I know you are tired, hurt, and grieving. I still must ask, no, I still demand of you that you rebuild and rearm. This isn’t over. It will not be over in our lifetime, I should think. So prepare yourselves. Remember: we are the fort that guards the gate and nothing will get through that we do not let through. The lizardmen will try again and we will kill them for it, again, and again, until we are ready to kick them out. For Riel, for humanity, and for Threshold. Dismissed.”
The soldiers saluted at first. Unbound by convention, the guild raiders roared instead, and the army soon broke discipline to join them. Men and women screamed defiance to the false sky tainted by the smoke of burning bodies. Nestra had thought she was too jaded for this shit but right now, she felt at home. After so many years feeling like the last remnant of a long dead group, it was very strange being in the company of people who, at least at this instant, truly believed.
All good things had to come to an end though. The general disappearing in a nearby alley, the soldiers and raiders soon split, some going to the stunned medical corps to offer thanks in the form of… packets of tea and instant coffee. Maybe it was a local tradition.
She sure as fuck hoped it didn’t mean those were being rationed.
“I should have packed drip coffee bags, dammit,” she complained to herself.
“You really should have,” Manu told her as he waved her goodbye.
“Curses.”
Nestra returned to her tent, only to see Mazingwe and a familiar figure. She knew who her bunk mate was after all.
“Hello Camille,” she greeted.
“Nestra,” the fencer returned.
Camille wore an unmarked army reinforced set complete with helmet, all in mana material. It wasn’t as good as her Bellerophon but it was certainly nothing to scoff at. They looked reasonably well rested for once.
“Good,” Mazingwe said. “Now that you’re both here, pack up for a short expedition. Your mission begins tonight. I’ll see you at the main gate.”
***
To Nestra’s surprise, the main gate could only be accessed via an underground passage diving under the base’s outer walls. Massive towers barded with guns stood at regular intervals, though half were destroyed and the rest all showed damage. There were still blood tracks staining the concrete in spots. Out here, the stench of spoiled meat grew to nauseating proportions. Mazingwe was already waiting by the time the pair arrived. He led them down under arches of steel. The ground at the bottom of the slope was cracked asphalt.
Nestra exited the camp, and stopped. Camille stopped by her side.
“That’s… a lot of damage,” the fencer whispered.
Understatement of the century. It wasn’t just the dozens of corpses still strewn across a scarred plain among the remains of charred siege equipment, or the scorched trunks of a defunct forest further, or even the cratered hills in the distance, disfigured by pockmarks. The very mountains ahead of them were covered in scars. One was missing its entire summit.
There wasn’t a single pristine surface in sight.
“Shinran and Ragnarok fought three lizardmen A-class over those mountains, killed one,” Mazingwe explained. “We were fighting on the walls when it happened. It was night, but the sky was lit as if by day. Their primitive constructs broke against our defenses.”
Nestra wasn’t surprised. She made her way towards what appeared to be an old battering ram and she did really mean the ancient device. Mazingwe allowed it, following her. There were bodies on the way, all of them lizardmen. She assumed the human remains would have been cleaned on the first day. They were getting pungent. Nestra realized that most of them had a single bag held by a leather belt, and a weapon harness holding javelins. By comparison, the Carved Tusk envoy had been blinged up to the gills. Looking closer, each of those were very carefully marked with tiny script, drawings, and decorations. Pearls and bone shards were embedded in the straps. The work was as intricate as it was exquisite. Arriving before the ram, Nestra found much of the same: what was left of the inside mechanism was made of wood and quite basic, but also enchanted for sturdiness. Even broken, mana still clung to its frame. A protective shell of layered stone slates covered the roof like the scales of some great beast, each piece a work of art, and yet, the ram had died long before reaching its destination. Massive holes covered its flank while dry gore painted the inside in a sticky coat.
“This is the lizardman mindset at work. They are capable of intense focus and meticulous work but little else. They cannot innovate, cannot organize. After sixty years of conflict, this is the best they have managed: engines we’ve had for three millenia. Even this must have been an unusual experience to them.”
Nestra nodded. In the distance, lizardmen of the Carved, recognizable from their opulent leather harness, religiously picked up bodies to be buried on a pyre, one by one. Meanwhile, groups of workers were already bringing body bags by the cartload, ready to move when the sun set.
Mazingwe surveyed the corpses with satisfaction. Nestra could barely recognize the patient doctor from the B-class’ cruel expression. She was more disturbed by it than she’d care to admit.
“You will be leaving from the other side so let’s go around the camp. I only wanted you to see this.”
The next ten minutes were spent dodging rotting bodies while Mazingwe offered a running commentary.
“They attacked by night and in great numbers, which they’d never done before. The outer patrols were ambushed and slaughtered to the last. Only Colonel Tseng’s determination let us get an early warning. It’s the first time since the Incursion that four clans have worked together, and the first time they built siege equipment and attacked at night, period. The lizardmen are deadly fighters but they slow down at night. They have poor night vision. Remember this well.”
Nestra would. Know your enemy etc.
The trio took the long way along the fort. Nestra understood from the map that the Bridge World was over 120 km long from portal to portal with still a few kilometers behind each. It was in this reasonably covered area that Threshold had installed its civilian facilities. They walked by a field of advanced solar panels as well as basic factories filled with fabricators. Fields and glass houses covered the ground alongside tools and machines, left alone for now as the civilian workers had taken shelter. Nestra was no business woman but if everything here was produced in such an abundant mana concentration, no wonder Threshold could afford the giant gun towers they were trying to deny her, the cads.
Finally, after walking some more, they left the fort behind. Cameras and sensors could still be spotted and Nestra saw a flying patrol above but they were clearly at the edge of the human-controlled perimeter.
“Right, the mission. After the siege broke, a group of around sixteen lizardmen hunters slipped by and murdered all the workers who had failed to get in before disappearing in the forest. We are confident they will separate and set traps for a couple of weeks before slowly making their way back.”
“How can you be so sure?” Camille asked.
“Because their tribe is disgraced but if they bag some more heads, they can return home with honor. They are… very predictable like that.”
He smirked.
“I will be hunting for the B-classes while you handle the rabble. This is a mop up operation. Your primary objective is to kill them, secondary objective is to recover the heads for proper burial. Nestra, I guess from the circumstances that prisoner Nguyen is aware of your… proclivities, but I must still ask.”
“They know I can transform, yes.”
The two exchanged a quick glance. Camille hadn’t been told the whole truth, and Nestra preferred to keep it that way now that she’d grown a bit more responsible.
“I highly suspected as much. Then it must be obvious that you will be performing your duties as Crescent. There are no cameras here.”
“Good.”
Nestra finally let her mask fall. The Aszhii shook herself out, taking in the many scents of the forest. Her sharp eyes picked a distant path while her mana perception caught a stronger concentration heading farther from the portal.
“In summary, you will be hunting and killing lizardmen. I trust there are no issues with that?”
Nestra leaned forward. In Ashzii shape, she was taller than even Mazingwe. She felt a feral urge to test him, push him, one way or another.
“I’ll show them who’s the real hunter. HSSSSSS.”
“Excellent. Now let’s begin with preparations.”
“Huh?”
A nasty grin bloomed on the first gen’s face.
“First of all, we’re going to do a little bit of training. How good are you two at dodging javelins?”
“Errrr.”
Mazingwe’s smile widened, then he grabbed for his spear.