set under them. The
larger claw Adrien had seen was attached to a longer left arm –
like a fiddler crab, the monster's other upper limb was smaller than
even Adrien's arms, but was tipped with another claw that looked
razor sharp.

Adrien stood there,
transfixed. Part of his brain
screamed at him to run, to get away. But another part scrabbled for
answers as he watched carefully. He wasn't sure which was the
rational or the irrational component of his brain, until he spotted a
nearby fallen branch sticking up out of the mud to his left. His
eyes darted back to the crab monster, who now crouched back down, as
if...

Adrien
threw himself to the side, diving for the branch, and the crab lunged
through the spot where Adrien's head had been just moments before.
He missed the branch as he splashed onto the muddy ground, but
reached for it again and clutched it in his fingers as he dared to
glance backward at the crab, which had landed clumsily from the miss
and had jaggedly thrust its claw into a tree. Apparently it wasn't
used to the way he moved compared to his usual prey, but it was
already pushing itself back onto its ten different feet and turning
back to him with a bubbly noise as it frothed at the mouth.

He
pushed himself back to his feet using the branch for support, and
then yanked on it. The rough bark scratched his hands, but he
managed to pull it up out of the water and mud. Adrien had a thought
coming to mind that sounded insane, but the crab's attack hadn't done
a single thing to that tree's bark just now. Neither had the monster
snapped the branch that the lizard had been traveling along. So, if
these trees were that strong...

Adrien
lifted the branch up in front of him, shaking more from the weight of
the thing than the cold he felt. Maybe insanity wasn't a word that
worked anymore. He surely had no chance of fighting this thing with
only a stick, but nothing had made sense ever since he fell in this
swamp.

“Come
on, then!” he shouted, holding the stick towards one end with both
hands like a sword that he held pointed at the crab. “You want
some of this, huh?”

The
crab's eyes did not change an iota as it began to move sideways,
lifting its rearmost legs from the ground as it did so. Like a
boxer, it pulled its claws in close, circling to Adrien's left as if
looking for an opening. Even though it had no face, Adrien felt like
it was studying him just as he was studying it.

He
circled in the opposite direction, keeping the branch between him and
the monster. The mud shifted and oozed under his feet, but he kept
his balance as his eyes stayed locked on the creature, watching for
it to make the next move. Now that he had a weapon, Adrien felt more
secure, as if fate had granted him a fighting chance. But he tried
to keep his mind clear, to think one step ahead and not lose his
head.

Perhaps
literally, as the crab monster's large claw snapped with hungry
irritation, eager to close around its prey.

The
crab stopped circling, and so did Adrien. He spotted its rear legs
lowering, planting those webbed feet into the mud, and this time he
was ready. The crab tensed, then sprang, launching its huge claw out
toward Adrien, who sidestepped and swung his improvised club at the
creature. The branch let out a hollow crack as it slammed into the
monster's leg, throwing it off-balance into the mud, where it
struggled with all of its legs to get back to its feet.

Adrien
burst into a run, trying to put as much distance between him and this
creature as possible as he went in the opposite direction. He clung
with both hands to the branch, his feet pounding through the shallow
water and mud, and almost as if in revelation he realized that the
mist was not as thick here. In fact, he felt a breeze blow through
the air, sending a chill through his soaked body but also a more
metaphorical one up his spine. Maybe the exit to this swamp was
near!

A
growl behind him reminded him of his pursuer, and he ran headlong
onto firmer ground as the trees grew further and further apart.
There was grass under his feet now – gray and dead grass, perhaps,
but grass nonetheless! It was like a sign that things were suddenly
looking up for him, as he broke out of the cover of the trees and
headed toward what looked like the top of a hill ahead of him. The
gray clouds were broken up ahead, and he saw blue sky.

He
glanced backward, and saw the crab land a few yards behind him, then
hesitate as it moved back and forth at the edge of the trees. He
couldn't help but laugh at his luck – it was the end of its
territory! Adrien turned back forward as he reached the top of the
hill, looking out over the-

-edge
of the world as he looked down and saw nothing but clouds and, very
far below, an ocean.

Adrien
dug his feet in as he halted, panting for breath and trying to make
sense of what he saw, standing on what seemed the edge of eternity.
It made no sense; how was he this far above the clouds, when a whole
swamp was just behind him? The breeze was stronger here, and he
realized it was an air current, pulling at his hair and clothes this
far from the cover of the trees. He glanced up to the skyline, or
what he had thought was the skyline, and realized that there were
rocks and small floating islands hanging in the sky.

A
growl behind him reminded him that he had other problems. He turned
on his heel and looked at the crab, which was slowly making its way
toward him, white saliva dripping from its mouth as it gazed with
those unblinking eyes at him. Maybe it wasn't leaping for him, but
there would be only moments before it was close enough to simply
pluck him from where he was – and he had nowhere to run!

Adrien
was trapped!

Raising
the branch in front of him again, he braced himself against the
grass, his mind playing with the idea that he could leap away. But a
death from falling wasn't any more pleasant to him than a death at
the claws of the monster approaching him. And he hadn't entirely
exhausted his options yet, as he-

The
crab lunged out with its large claw, catching the branch in its
serrated grip, and yanked it free of his hand. It pulled away the
branch as it extended its smaller claw, snipping with it as it
reached toward his neck with unerring slowness...

“I
join you in battle, warrior!”

The
crab jerked back and whirled around, growling at the owner of the
deep masculine voice who had just spoken. Adrien dared to look past
the crab...and his jaw dropped as he was landed yet another
bombshell, for his savior was not human.

Stepping
from the edge of the trees was a tan-furred dog. He stood on his
hind legs, digitigrade and thickly-built like the rest of him, and he
wore leather pants and a loose tunic over his muscular frame. Held
in his large forepaws, more like hands than paws, was a wooden spear
made from the same material as the black trees behind him, with a
shiny dagger-shaped point on the end. A bushy tail stuck out from
behind his rear, in a perpetual curl that nearly made a complete
circle. He was at least a head taller than Adrien, and speaking of
heads, his was a complete dog's head, shaped like a malamute's
complete with a muzzle full of teeth. His ears were pointed, though
the right ear was bent in half like it had grown that way. He was
such a wild mishmash of human and canine physiologies, and yet he
moved swiftly as he darted forward on his toes.

The
crab monster's rear legs planted themselves down, and Adrien realized
what it was about to do. “It's going to leap!” he blurted out.

In
the next instant, the crab did exactly that, still clutching Adrien's
weapon tightly in its claw as it thrust its thicker arm at the
dogman, who apparently heard and understood Adrien's warning and
barely dived under the attack. The combatants soon were on their
feet again and circling, watching each other with predatory looks,
the dogman growling exactly like a dog as he showed his teeth.

Now
that he was out of immediate danger, Adrien fell to his knees and
shivered, though he kept his eyes on the fight with intensity. For
all he knew, he was in as much danger from the dogman as he was from
the crab monster, and he was still trapped. And yet he rooted for
the dogman without much more reason than because he showed signs of
being more like a human. He – Adrien assigned him a masculine
gender, based on his voice - had even spoken! Or, was that Adrien's
imagination beginning to play tricks on him in this strange
environment?

The
dogman blocked the crab's next strike with its claw, the thick haft
of his spear bending slightly under the impact, but it held. He held
the creature at bay as they struggled against each other, then kicked
it in the underbelly with a bare footpaw and shoved it away. The
thick rear legs stopped it from going far, and it charged forward
again. The dogman sidestepped with inhuman agility, swinging his
spear up as the monster passed. One of the crab monster's eyes fell
to the ground with a horrible squish.

Frothing
with rage, the crab swung its claw wildly, smacking the dogman
accidentally with the branch still stuck there and toppling him
toward the edge of the ground where it met the sky. Adrien

,
despite his exhaustion, got to his feet as he saw the dogman fall to
the ground with his head over the end of the earth, and when he tried
to get to his feet, the crab launched itself on top of him, only the
spear keeping that larger claw from piercing through the dogman's
chest. While the crab couldn't use the claw to grab anything else
since Adrien's branch had gotten stuck between its grasp, it was
still determined to use the claw's pointy edges to stab with.

The
dogman and monster were more evenly matched in strength than Adrien
had thought, and for a moment wondered if this would even be a fair
contest. But then he saw the smaller claw reaching forward, slowly,
for the dogman's throat. If Adrien did nothing, he might be able to
get away while the crab feasted.

And
he actually considered that possibility strongly for a moment.

The
next moment found him running down the hill, wordlessly shouting at
the top of his lungs as he charged the crustacean headlong. Berserk
as it seemed, his purpose was clear: the dogman might be his best bet
at figuring out where he was and how he had gotten here, and that was
the only real sliver of hope he had right now.

He
rammed the creature's rough shell with his shoulder, knocking it
sideways – by only a few inches, as Adrien fell back from the
impact. But the crab was distracted and off-balance, and that was
all the dogman needed as he shoved the monster away, climbed to his
feet, and leaped as he brought the spearhead down.

Adrien
stared, panting as the front of his shirt and vest were spattered
with translucent blue blood. The crab's spasms continued even as the
dogman withdrew the spear and stepped back, its legs wiggling wildly
about with helplessness. But death came quickly to it as the light
went out of its remaining eye and its limbs eventually ceased to
struggle.

The
dogman threw his head back and howled at the sky, a triumphant war
cry if Adrien had ever heard one. Then he turned to Adrien and
offered one of his paw-hands. “Well done!” he crowed, his pale
green eyes looking at Adrien with admiration. “Your courage is
strong! Here, allow me to help you to your feet.”

“You're
a dog!” Adrien blurted, the rational side of his brain unable to
hold back the logical dissonance. “And you can speak English!”

The
dogman tilted his head in brief puzzlement, and then he laughed, an
honest sound of merriment. “Well, of course I'm a Daug! What else
would I be?” he responded with a chuckle. “As for, um...that
word you said that I don't know, Ing-glesh? I guess I can say it,
but I've never heard of it before. But you look different from a
Daug, and you aren't a Kyahtt, I don't think...”

It
made no sense, but Adrien decided to let the language matter drop.
He resumed shivering and suddenly felt quite sick to his stomach as
his eyes strayed back to the dead creature.

“I'm
surprised you didn't have a better weapon with you to fight this
flisk,” commented the Daug as he followed Adrien's gaze.
“Blackwood is sturdy enough, but you'd have to crack its-”

He
stopped at the sound of Adrien retching, and looked with genuine
concern at the human. “Oh no, you must be sick,” he said, his
good ear drooping against his head. “We should get you back to
town so our healer can take a look at you.”

Adrien
wiped his mouth on his sleeve, his eyes watering as he struggled up
his his feet. The Daug grabbed his other arm and pulled him up,
holding him until he looked steady. “I'm fine,” Adrien said
thickly, blinking to clear his eyes. “It's just...I've never,
well, killed anything before. And it's been a long day.”

“I'll
say,” said the Daug as he bent down to look at one of Adrien's
hands more closely. “These spots are erkeel bites! Why didn't you
have any repellant? You must not be from around here at all if you
didn't know about erkeels.” He stood up. “But there are so many
questions! Right now, we have a flisk that is growing cold, and I
have to carry it back to Harvist. Your bravery will surely be
rewarded, if you would like to come there with me; and your wounds
should be looked at.”

Adrien
nodded, a bit dumbly; he realized he was going through shock from the
stress of everything that had happened, but he was now in company
with someone who knew what he was doing, and he didn't need to be on
high alert anymore. “My name's Adrien Fausto,” he said, looking
up at the Daug.

The
Daug smiled broadly. “I am Russel, of Earfold,” he proclaimed.
“It is an honor to stand by you, Adrien.”

On
the journey back through the gray swamp (“Blackwood Swamp, because
it's the best swamp to find blackwood in,” explained Russel), there
was plenty of time for Adrien and Russel to talk. Adrien learned
many things, and confirmed others. For one, he was certainly not on
Earth anymore, and Russel had never seen or heard of a “hyoo-mahn”
before.

“So,
we're on a...flying continent?”

Russel
nodded, lifting a branch out of their way as they traveled through
the mud and muck. “I've never heard of it put quite like that
before, but yes, that's what a shard is. The stories say that long
ago, all of the shards were in one piece down below, but the gods
argued about who the whole world belonged to. They then smashed the
world, and the shards have hung in the sky ever since, far above the
surface.”

The
creation myth, as Adrien realized it to be, sounded about as
plausible as everything else that Adrien had seen or heard so far.
But until he knew more, he wasn't going to work too hard figuring out
a more reasonable explanation.

“So
is this the only shard with people on it?” asked Adrien.

“Oh
wait, hold on,” interrupted Russel as he stopped them on one of the
muddy sandbars, and set down the crab monster's corpse to pop open
the cork on a hardened clay flask at his side. He poured out a
foul-smelling liquid that looked brownish in color on his paw, and
rubbed it briskly into his fur on his arms and face. He then held
out the flask to Adrien. “This is the repellant I told you about –
it's juice from a flower that grows at the edge of the swamp. The
smell of it is what keeps them in the swamp and away from the
village, and we use it to keep them away while we harvest blackwood
and hunt in the swamp.”

Adrien
had lots of practice putting on sunscreen, so it wasn't hard to
follow his larger companion's example and rub the viscous stuff onto
his arms and around his neck – though he tested a spot first on his
hand to make sure he didn't have an allergic reaction to it. Finding
none, he readily applied it before handing the flask back to his
native host, although he regretted it as the strong stench of rotten
steamed broccoli flooded his nostrils.

“Now,
where was I?” Russel asked absentmindedly as he hooked the flask
back onto his belt, and he thought about it as they continued
slogging through the swamp. “Oh, yes – no, this shard, Dorbuust,
is one of the biggest, but it's not the only shard with people on it.
There are skyships that can take people from one shard to another,
although the only place that skyships dock is in the capital far from
here, nearly straight across the Middle Sea. Wind currents make it
hard to land just anywhere on a shard, but the capital is shielded
from the wind by a cave opening that serves as the capital's port.”

Skyships?
Was Russel talking about airplanes, or something else? Adrien could
probably have asked questions about that all day, but he wanted to
keep his inquiries more pertinent to what was going to happen to him
next. That this shard had enough people to populate cities was a
good start to understanding how big it was, and how likely it was to
find someone who might know how to get him back to Earth.

“You
must be close to my age,” said Russel completely out of the blue as
the mists began to clear again, and Adrien could see far enough ahead
to see the trees thinning out.

“What
makes you say that?” asked Adrien, glancing sideways at Russel.

“Oh,
well...maybe where you are from, it is different, but in Harvist,
when a male Daug comes of age, they are sent into the swamp to hunt a
flisk and bring it back to town. You said you'd never killed a
creature before, so I thought...” Russel returned Adrien's gaze.
“Say, you're a male, aren't you? I've never seen a hyoo-man
before, so I don't know if the difference is, um...the same, between
boys and girls, that is.”

It
was Adrien's turn to laugh as he had the epiphany that Russel was
just as unsure about his new companion. “Yes, I'm a guy,” he
answered. “As for age, I'm sixteen years old, though I don't know
if a 'year' is the same amount of time for you as it is for me.”

A
brief discussion of time later revealed that Adrien and Russel were
similar in age. Russel seemed to take this in stride. “Then you
and I have both come of age today,” he declared.

“Why
are you so accepting of me?” asked Adrien. “You've never heard
or seen a human before, you just met me in a swamp, and it's like you
trust that everything I've said about myself is true. And if
anything, I look so much different from you that, well, I must look
like...”

Russel
tilted his head to the side, and then he looked at Adrien squarely in
the eyes. “Adrien, it doesn't matter where you're from or why
you're here. I saw your courage and knew that you were an ally to be
trusted. No one with a bad heart would have stood up to a creature
like that without quailing away in fear and running away! And we
fought together, so that makes us closer than kin, for as the saying
goes, 'He who stands beside me in battle is now my brother.'”

Somehow,
Adrien appreciated that. From that moment on, the feeling was
mutual.

Though
the sky overhead was still overcast, Adrien and Russel exited the
swamp into a more colorful world. They walked onto solid ground,
taking a well-worn path between two large patches of wildflowers.
None of the flowers looked vaguely alike, a rainbow of colors and
textures, with some blue star-shaped blossoms alongside weird
seedpods that looked like organs, to weed-like brown shrubs. Russel
assured Adrien, however, that these were the source of the repellant
that they had used in the swamp – and all the same kind of flower.
He cut one of the flower stems open, and the whiff he got from the
molasses-like sap convinced Adrien.

Beyond
the flower field, the land became dominated by rolling green hills.
At least the grass looked the same as on Earth, Adrien noted, and
that familiarity helped ease his mind as he walked alongside Russel.
Many of the hills were dominated by what looked like golden wheat,
though others were clear-cut and made for easy travel compared to the
shifting mud of the swamp. In the distance, Adrien could see a
column of smoke rising from a distant chimney, and as they got
closer, he could see the rough brick and log shapes of houses.

“That's
from my house,” said Russel with a wagging tail as he pointed to
the smoke. “Mama's got the cooking fire stoked up so we can cook
this as soon as we get back, for the celebration feast.”

Adrien
blinked as he looked at the crab, its limbs hanging loosely over
Russel's wide shoulders. “You mean we're going to...eat that?”

“Yup!”
The Daug licked his lips in anticipation, and for a moment Adrien
thought he was going to drool. But then he explained, “Well, most
of it; there are a couple of things we don't eat, like the eyes and a
couple of the organs. Those are donated to the healer, who uses them
in medicine for fevers and chills.”

“So
that's why you saved that eyeball,” commented Adrien with new
understanding as his eyes drifted to the leather pouch on Russel's
homespun belt, a pouch tightly cinched with cord to keep its contents
from popping out.

“The
feast is for the family of the male that brought their kill home,”
continued Russel as they passed by fields of gold and green, the soft
grass bending under their feet. “When we get back, there will be a
crowd waiting for us, to welcome us in after a successful hunt. It
might get a little hairy – us Daugs can get carried away.”

Adrien
realized that Russel was explaining all of this for his benefit, as
he had no idea what to expect from a whole town of giant musclebound
dog people. “What do you think they'll do when they see me with
you?” he asked, suddenly becoming nervous but being careful not to
show it in his expression.

Russel
shrugged nonchalantly. “My family will trust my word. I'm sure
everyone will be a little curious, but everyone in Harvist is quite
friendly, even to strangers. We're not like Daugs in the city who
sometimes don't even welcome their own families!” He snuffled with
a certain contempt that reminded Adrien of how country folks would
view “city slickers” back on Earth. “So you'll be fine!”

Adrien
wasn't so sure about that, but then Russel eagerly waved at some
distant figures, and barked a couple of times in excitement. Adrien
looked and saw that there were two more Daugs in the fields,
apparently working at harvesting wheat – but one of them was seated
in a contraption that reminded Adrien of a rust-colored toilet bowl
with lanky dark gray metal chicken legs and arms, the arms tipped
with an ax blade on one, and a scythe on the other. The two Daugs
stopped working as they barked a greeting back and waved, then came
over, machine and all.

“What's
that?” asked Adrien, pointing at the machine before the two Daugs
got close.

“You
mean the tractor? We're one of the few farming communities out here
that has one,” answered Russel.

He
didn't get any more time to explain before the other Daugs arrived.
“Hey, Russel, looks like you got a big one!” exclaimed the one
piloting the tractor, who looked a bit like a sheepdog; he leaned
over the edge of the pilot's seat to look down at them through the
thick fur around his eyes. “I certainly wish I was one of your
brothers tonight, I haven't had good flisk in a long time, especially
not the way your mother cooks it!”

The
other on the ground looked more like a golden retriever, and he
looked at Adrien, blinking rapidly as if that would help clarify what
he was seeing. “Russel, who's your...friend?” he asked.

“Oh,
this is Adrien Fausto – he helped me take the flisk down!”
announced Russel, putting a hand on his human companion's shoulder,
as if that signaled that they were in good standing with each other.
“I found him in the swamp.”

The
sheepdog laughed, a sort of wheezing noise combined with a bark.
“You really know how to pick 'em, Russel Earfold – but I'd bet
you two are wanting to get back to town so you can get that flisk
cooking, and get a bath. The two of you look quite a lot alike under
all that mud! Here, if you hold on to the back of the tractor, I'll
get you into town a little faster.”

“Oh,
boy! We'd sure appreciate that, Mr. Sheo!” Russel's tail was
wagging harder than ever. “This is really great, Adrien! I hardly
ever get to ride the tractor. Come on!”

Sheo
turned the tractor around so that its rear was facing the pair, and
Russel climbed up onto a small step on the left side of the tractor's
engine, holding on to a handle seemingly designed to allow the
tractor to have riders. He also slung the flisk's corpse onto one of
the tractor's arms. Adrien saw a similar step and handle on the
right side, so he followed his friend's example and hopped up onto
the step. The engine felt warm this close up, but not so much so
that it was uncomfortable. At least, Adrien presumed it was the
engine, as it was connected to the legs and partly to the arms,
although it jutted out far enough behind those joints that Adrien was
in no danger of being bumped by the metallic limbs, gangly as they
seemed.

Sheo
finished telling the other Daug to get his fellow workers out of the
field and back to town, and then he pulled a few levers and brought
the walking tractor to a running pace. “Hold on tight, kids!”
Sheo called out over the jangling noise of the tractor's hydraulic
limbs as it dashed over the fields and toward Harvist.

The
ride was a little less safe than Adrien would have liked – he felt
extremely vulnerable without a seat belt or some other kind of
restraint. But at the same time, he had no trouble holding on to the
handlebar, and after getting used to the pace, he was able to look
around and enjoy the sight of the hills zipping past. A glance at
Russel made him nearly laugh out loud, as he saw his compatriot's
mouth wide open, tongue hanging out of the left side of his muzzle.

He
then looked at the driver's compartment, which was a bit
cramped-looking, but he was at an angle where he could see into it.
Sheo seemed to be driving the machine using foot pedals to operate
the legs, and handles built into the sides of the compartment with a
grip trigger that seemingly operated the arms. There were only a
couple of other levers and buttons, with one large glowing button
being the apparent centerpiece of the console. It was surprising
simple for such a complicated-looking machine, and Adrien wondered if
he could be allowed to learn how to pilot it.

That
almost made him homesick, as it reminded him of learning to drive
almost a year ago, and his driver's license was to have arrived in
the mail in just a week. But now they were in the town itself,
running along a cobblestone road with the feet of the tractor
clacking against the stones as houses whizzed by. Harvist was a
small town, but it was certainly impressive to see the two-story
houses that served often as shops as well as homes to many of the
inhabitants, though he didn't see many of the people themselves.
Honey-colored bricks were used to make many of the houses, though
there were some structures that were framed in blackwood as well.
There was a large cluster of dome-shaped kilns with tubular chimneys,
and several hardened clay pots and flasks similar to the one that
Russel carried on his belt, all colored the same as the bricks.

“Harvist
is a farming town, but we also make some of the best pottery on the
whole western side of Dorbuust!” Russel called out to Adrien as
they passed by the kilns. “They make a lot of money that way when
traders from the capital come this way!”

It
only took a few more moments before Sheo brought the tractor to a
stop, and Adrien figured out why he hadn't seen many other Daugs;
most of the townspeople were here in the square, surrounding the
central well that stood in front of what Adrien took to be the town
hall. There were Daugs of many different shapes and sizes, and while
Adrien was able to match some of them to species of dogs that he knew
back on Earth, many of them were completely unfamiliar to him. Many
of them had hair on top of their heads like a human's, and some wore
painted symbols in their fur. Some of the Daugs yipped and howled in
joyful exuberance as they welcomed Russel back home, but they joined
the others in respectful silence as a shorter, stouter Daug stepped
forward from the well. Adrien saw the similar tan-colored fur and
the shape of the muzzle, as well as a pair of long ears that were
folded over down each side of her face. There were some wrinkles to
her brow, and some grayer hairs, that along with her white apron and
bonnet all seemed to add up to one conclusion about who this was.

“Mama!”
shouted Russel as he hopped down from the tractor and ran to his
mother, who he lifted up into the air and swung around. He then
placed her back down on the ground, and bent into a squat in front of
her, smiling at her as his tail wagged behind him like a fan. “I
got the flisk, Mama – and I found a new friend, too!”

“Well,
bless my land!” exclaimed Mother Earfold as she brushed her apron
off and approached the flisk. “You went and got yourself a big
one, didn't you! Certainly at least as big as any of the ones your
brothers brought. I'll have to get this into the pot right away so
we can cook the mud taste out.”

That
was when she saw Adrien, who stepped down from the tractor and stood
there. He had no idea what to do or expect, and when she came right
up to him – the top of her head didn't come any higher than his
chest – and sniffed at him, he held still. “And, is this your
new friend?” she asked Russel in a tone of slight sternness, though
she looked up in Adrien's eyes as if to make a measure of him.

Russel
stepped over, his tail wagging just as hard as before. “Yup, Mama.
His name is Adrien Fausto, and he's a hyoo-man. He helped me take
down the flisk! He's very brave. And smart, too!”

The
crowd around them murmured, and Adrien looked around to see looks of
confusion on the faces of the people around him. He felt it – that
sense of being out of place, of standing out blatantly to the people
around him because of the way he looked. In a way, that gave him
strength. At least this was familiar, even if these people were not.
But so far, he felt like they just had no idea what to make of him.
There was certainly no hostility there.

It
was Mother Earfold that interrupted the silence. “So, my son, is
this Adrien Fausto's first kill, too?”

Russel
stood by Adrien and placed a paw on his shoulder. “He can tell you
himself, Mama.” Then he, and every Daug in the town, stared at him
for an answer. It was a little unnerving.

“It
was,” he said quietly. But then he said it again, more loudly so
the crowd could hear. “This flisk is the first animal I've ever
helped kill, with my two hands.”

His
words seemed to stun everyone for a few moments. He found he was
amused by their shock, as if they had not expected him to speak at
all.

Once
again, Mother Earfold took the initiative. “Then, by the customs
of our people, you are come of age alongside my son. That means you
will be eating at my home tonight along with the rest of my
children.”

She
turned to the townspeople. “My friends, I present to you Russel
Earfold, my son, and his friend, Adrien Fausto. They have earned the
right to adulthood with their hands. How do you reply?”

Adrien
jumped as the crowd howled as one, and nearly went to cover his ears
– but suddenly he and Russel were lifted on the shoulders of two of
the burliest Daugs there, and the crowd cheered, hooted and hollered
as they were carried down the street in a procession, Mother Earfold
leading the way.

“That's
my Mama!” boasted Russel over the crowd to Adrien.

Adrien,
for his part, caught Mother Earfold's glance back at him, and somehow
he realized the depth of what she had done for him. He had just been
adopted into the local culture, which would make it easier for
everyone to accept him. That was something he would have to thank
her for, later. Right now, he had to ride out the storm of the
celebrating dog people.

The
Earfold home was one of the two-story buildings nearer to the
northern edge of town. It was a wooden-framed house, with bricks
filling in the gaps between blackwood girders. Inside the front
door, Adrien took in what looked like a general store, with bags of
feed and various pieces of farming equipment for sale. The
merchandise was displayed in niches in the brick wall, which neatly
served as storage shelves. The counter itself had a cash register, a
mechanical device that looked curiously made of clockwork rather than
the electric kind that Adrien was used to seeing. The sense that he
got was of a very well-organized and cozy store, the sort of store he
would have encountered on cross-country trips with his parents.

After
saying farewells to friends and neighbors outside, Mother Earfold
stepped inside, ready to get busy. “Russel, be a dear and take
that flisk upstairs to the kitchen – by now the pot should be
boiling, and I already have the vegetables ready. Then get yourself
and your friend into the bath so you can wash off that swamp mud.”

“Okay,
Mama,” said Russel obediently, and he started up the stairs with
the flisk over his shoulders. But he stopped midway up and called
back down, “Look at his hand, Mama – he got bit by some erkeels
before we met!” And then up and away he went.

Mother
Earfold brought Russel over to a sink that was under the stairs, and
turned on a lantern so she could see his hand better as she took it
in her hand-paws. “Yes, those are erkeel bites all right. But
don't worry, it isn't too serious. Here, wash your hands and clean
those wounds out; the soap in the bath will kill any disease that
might fester.” As Russel followed her direction, she looked at his
face more closely. “You look very pale,” she said with a note of
concern. “I hope that feeding you up will help put some color in
those cheeks.”

“It
isn't that,” said Adrien, resigned to explain his condition. “I'm
an albino, ma'am. That's why I look like this.”

“Oh.
I see. We see those every now and then in a litter.” The
revelation didn't seem to strike her as particularly unusual. “

“But,
before I forget...what are you planning to do next?”

The
question caught Adrien off-guard. “Do? What do you mean?”

“I
mean, you didn't just fall into that swamp out of the sky,” said
Mother Earfold. “Whatever your reasons, you've now befriended my
son, and I just mean to know exactly what you intend to do with that
friendship. I can tell you've made quite the impression on him
already, and though I trust his judgment, I didn't get as old as I am
by trusting every fellow that came around. I need to know that
you'll take care of my son, just like I'm taking care of both of you
right now.”

So
that was it. She was taking this moment to make sure Russel hadn't
been swindled into a friendship. In a way, Adrien wasn't sure that
hadn't happened. He had been there, had acted as best he could, and
now he was in a world and a situation that he was still coming to
terms with.

“Ma'am,
I just want to go home,” he plainly answered. “The truth is that
I wasn't in that swamp because I wanted to be there, or because I was
trying to prove myself or anything to anyone. It was an accident
that I had no power over. So, all I want to do is go back home.”

“And
where is home?” persisted Mother Earfold.

Russel
called down the stairs. “I'm done, Mama! Adrien, the bath water's
ready, come on up!”

Adrien
smiled, knowing that the answer was not as easy as Mother Earfold
probably would have liked. “That is something I will tell you all
about over dinner,” he promised, before dashing up the stairs.

Adrien
felt significantly better after getting clean from all the swamp mud
and into some fresh – if slightly awkward-shaped – overalls and a
woven shirt, both of which had belonged to Russel when he was much
younger. The material felt a little rough against his skin, but it
was clean and had been sewn with the handicraft of a woman's love.
And, surprisingly, it fit well enough.

It
was at dinner that he explained about his world, Earth, to his hosts.
Russel had already heard a lot of it during the trip from the swamp,
but he listened just as attentively as his three younger brothers and
two sisters. Mother Earfold busied herself with the dinner and was
up and down constantly as she made sure everyone was fed and taken
care of, but Adrien knew she was taking in the details as readily as
any of her children. The young pups seemed to take it almost like a
fairy tale, with Adrien's descriptions of a mystical far-away place
where the ground stayed on the ground, where people sailed on the
ocean instead of the sky, and now Adrien had fallen into their home
like a fairy or wizard.

But
dinner wasn't just talk, either. The flisk was essentially like a
regular crab in terms of its flavor and preparation, dabbed with
butter to enhance its somewhat bland but meaty taste – the main
difference was in its size, which easily fed the whole family and
left enough over for Mother Earfold to freeze for later. That was
only the main dish; there were vegetables and fruits, many of which
looked familiar, but others that looked so outlandish that Adrien
wasn't sure he could compare them to anything he saw or knew of on
Earth. Practical as he was, he decided to test some of everything so
he could know what he could and couldn't eat, and he was pleasantly
surprised to find a lot of it to his liking. It was simple, but
hearty, fare, and Adrien realized with a glance that even though the
Daugs looked like carnivores, they were eating vegetables and fruits
just as well as a human.

After
dinner, Russel took Adrien up to his bedroom in the loft while Mother
Earfold got the other children into bed. With a little time, Russel
got a leather-bound cot set up for Adrien, along with fur blankets
and a down-filled pillow. It was comfortable enough, and Adrien was
exhausted from everything that had happened that day. The octagonal
window in the pyramid-shaped room showed that it was night time
outside, and Adrien took a moment to glance out the window and stare
at the starry sky.

“There
are so many stars,” he marveled as he leaned against the window
sill.

“Do
you recognize any?” asked Russel, his ears twitching as he sat on
his own cot.

After
a couple of minutes, Adrien shook his head, and walked over to his
bed, slumping into it. “I'm not an expert, but I've seen Earth's
sky enough times to know what it should look like. And this isn't
Earth.”

“Don't
worry – Mama will find out all she can about this 'Earth' of yours.
Maybe someone will have heard of it in town.” Russel slipped
under his covers, his cot creaking under his muscular weight. “And
I'll do everything I can to get you back home, Adrien. I promise.”

“Thank
you...you and your mother have really done so much for me, I don't
know if I can ever repay you.”

“Oh,
don't worry about that,” Russel said with a sigh of contentment as
he leaned over to turn out the oil lamp between them, and laid back
into the cot and stretched his arms behind his head. “Until we
figure out where this Earth is, you'll be coming with me to work in
the fields. It'll be lots of fun, and it's something to do in the
meantime.”

Work.
In the fields. Adrien had only ever raised bean plants in grade
school for a science project, and that had been many years ago.
Farming did not strike him as a particularly good idea, especially
with the risk of sunburn. But he saw that it would be unreasonable
not to work to pay his own way, and he couldn't see any other way
around it.

In
a few moments, he heard Russel snoring, and he himself felt tired
enough that the excitement of the day's events wore off. It didn't
take him long to fall into dreamless sleep.

Two
weeks later found Adrien seated in the tractor out in the fields,
with a wide-brimmed straw hat on his head to keep the worst of the
sun off. The sunlight turned the light-sensitive lenses of his
glasses nearly black, and sweat poured down his cheeks as he sat in
the cockpit, his hands on the controls.

“Easy
now, easy,” called out Sheo as he and Russel stood nearby. “Just
take 'er down...that's right, perfect!”

Adrien
pulled back slowly on one of the levers, and the tractor lowered
itself to the ground between its two skinny legs. The ax and sickle
attachments on the arms were replaced with nimble grippers,
three-fingered hands that allowed the tractor to carry surprisingly
heavy loads, as well as reach up high to pick fruit. Adrien
unbuckled his seat belt and swung himself out of the tractor and onto
the dusty field's ground.

“Excellent
work, Adrien – for your first time driving an Ellem, you caught on
right fast,” complimented Sheo as he and Russel approached. “It's
about time for lunch, so I'll let you boys go for now.”

“Ellem?
Do you mean the tractor?” asked Adrien, glancing back at the brown
walker.

“Oh,
right – I have a hard time remembering you're not even from this
shard,” apologized Sheo as he removed his hat and scratched at his
ear with his free hand. “Ellems are what we call these machines
that walk on legs. I think it used to stand for something, like
'Legged Machine' or somesuch, but people hardly call 'em that these
days. We call this one the tractor, though, since we use it for farm
work.”

“We've
had this one for a long time, huh, Mr. Sheo?” asked Russel, asking
for Adrien's benefit. “I remember you putting me in the driver's
seat when I was just a pup!”

Sheo
laughed and replaced his hat. “Hard to believe you used to be that
small! Anyway, yes; we were fortunate enough to get this Ellem from
an auction several years ago. Apparently this was one of the first
designs of Ellems ever built in all the shards, so it was probably
made before even my grandpappy's day, but it's a solid little
workhorse.”

“So
there are other kinds of Ellems?” asked Adrien, pulling a
handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping away the sweat from his
face and neck.

Sheo
nodded. “Yes, all kinds – though most are used around big
cities, where there are enough mechanics to support them. Skyboats
and Ellems are the two inventions that revolutionized life on the
shards, that is a matter of fact. Mostly they're just for heavy work
that can't be done with hands alone, but some Ellems are used for
warfare, too.”

“But
how is it powered?”

Sheo
smiled. “Why, a power crystal. I guess you haven't really seen
one yet...want to take a look in the power supply?”

Adrien
couldn't hide his eagerness as he nodded, and Sheo laughed. “Okay
then – Russel, would you do the honors?”

Russel
approached the rear of the machine, and cracked his knuckles. “Sure
thing, Mr. Sheo!” He reached up to a latch set into the back of
the engine compartment, pulled it, and lowered open a hatch. Adrien
saw light glimmering from inside even before Russel stepped aside,
and he went to get a closer look.

Inside
the machine was an intricate array of mechanical parts, more like
clockwork or steampunk technology to Adrien's eyes than the workings
of a modern car. But it moved with absolute smoothness and perfect
unison, all clustered around a central gemstone set between two
spindles that held the stone in place. And this gemstone was what
filled the compartment with a soft orange light that seemed to
emanate naturally from its sparkling facets. The crystal itself
looked like a roughly-hewed orange jewel, about the size of Adrien's
fist. There also felt like a humming in the air around it, a
sensation brimming with energy that sent goosebumps racing up and
down the human's skin.

“This
is what makes skyships and Ellems work, and is the key to everything
that helps the shards stay in communication with each other,”
whispered Sheo, his voice tinged with reverence as the three of them
gazed at the crystal. “But long before we used them for machines,
power crystals have aided the good in heart when facing trials that
endanger all people. Even now, they must be treated with care so
that their power may shine through.”

Despite
his own sense that the crystal deserved the respect that Sheo and
Russel both had for it, Adrien couldn't help but try to make sense of
it. Maybe it was some kind of crystal matrix that stored electrical
energy, and slowly released it somehow? Or maybe these were remnants
from the initial explosion that separated the shards from the planet
down below? He had already learned that there were some questions he
could not ask the Daugs, not because they wouldn't be willing to
answer, but because some of the terms he used were completely
unfamiliar to them. It was almost like he had traveled back in time
to a more rural Earth...albeit one with talking dogs that walked on
their hind legs. Some words he used probably were attached to
concepts that the Daugs would take decades or centuries more to
discover and understand. And yet, with the advanced technology
afforded them by power crystals, he pondered that maybe they didn't
need some of the things that Earth had.

After
a few more moments, Russel closed the hatch, and Sheo patted the
ceramic-smooth side of the engine. “Yes sir, if it weren't for
this here tractor, we'd be hard pressed to keep up with the tax
collectors every month.” Without missing a beat, he continued.
“You boys are probably hungry as all get out, after I kept you out
here this long. Go on, get some food! The work will still be here
waiting for you when you get back.”

Adrien
and Russel headed back toward town over the rolling green hills.
“Tax collectors?” asked Adrien, putting a bit of the incredulity
he felt into his voice. “That seems kind of harsh.”

“The
taxes are just extra food that we make here, that's then taken to the
capital and redistributed to the rest of the shard as they need it,”
said Russel, his long easy-going steps still difficult for Adrien to
keep up with. “It's been that way for ages. Part of it is kept
for the Royal House's soldiers, although in the past year, it seems
like the taxes have been going up and up. That's why we have to work
so much harder than we used to, because the taxes are higher than
they've ever been. Lots of people blame the new duke for that, since
he rose to power about the same time that the taxes got raised...”

Russel
trailed off as he stopped, and Adrien looked up at his burly friend.
“What is it?” he asked.

The
Daug pointed ahead at the town, where Adrien could see a convoy of
carriages approaching Harvist from the east. “Those are the
collectors,” said Russel, “but they were just here a couple of
weeks ago, just before you got here. They're not supposed to be here
yet!”

“Maybe
something's up. Come on, we might as well see what's going on.”

They
hustled toward the town, their feet beating a path through the soft
grass. Adrien still was no match for any of the Daugs, but he was
surprised at how much stronger he felt in the two weeks he spent.
Maybe it was the wonderful home-cooked food, the exercise and fresh
air, or maybe there was something else in the air that Adrien didn't
know about, but the end result was that his time here gave him a
little lean muscle to work with in his skinny arms. He had not had
much time to go looking for a way back home, but the townspeople had
assured him that they would inquire about a way to Earth wherever
they went.

The
convoy had already made it to the town square and were loading up
crates of supplies as Russel and Adrien approached the gathered
crowd. There were Daugs, as well as a different species that Adrien
didn't recognize, among the brightly-uniformed members of the
caravan. The members of this other species were similar to the
Daugs, but had features and a head shape much more feline than
canine. Their red and green uniforms, with gold highlights, stood
out against the earthy colors of the townsfolk's homespun garb, just
as much as their crisp attention to detail contrasted with the slow
but steady lifestyle of Harvist's people.

“Mama,
what's going on?” asked Russel once they found Mother Earfold.

Before
she could reply, one of the catlike collectors – an officer, Adrien
thought – stepped forward in front of the crowd and raised a
paw-hand. His gray fur seemed to mark him as an older member of his
species. “Citizens of Harvist,” he called out, his voice
slightly screechy but starched like an old sport coat, “His
Highness, the Duke of Dorbuust, appreciates your contributions at
this time! I understand that this is out of the usual order that we
do things, so I have been given authority to inform you of the
reasons for this requisition.”

There
was a rumble through the crowd of voices, which ceased as the officer
dropped his hand suddenly. “The town of Gurnsville has just
declared that it will no longer obey the laws of the Duchy of
Dorbuust!” he screeched out at the top of his lungs, baring his
pointed fangs. “Rebels and vagabonds have heard this and now are
putting together an army – one that they intend to use to attack
settlements far away from Alethia and bring them under their control!
The Duke has called for your help in proving your loyalty and
supplying his army with last-minute rations so that we can swoop down
on the scum of Gurnsville, and reclaim it so that peace and order may
reign!”

There
was disbelief as well as anger in the crowd at that. That an entire
town would be so disloyal! Adrien knew firsthand how strongly the
people of Harvist felt about trust between fellow citizens.

“As
a result, we will be coming again in two weeks' time to recruit
strong warriors who will aid us in our campaign,” he continued,
“and collect the remaining monthly tribute at the same time. Only
those who have come of age will be eligible for training in the
army.”

As
he let that piece of news sink into the minds of the crowd, Adrien
whispered, “Russel, that isn't a Daug, is it? He looks like a
cat.”

“Well
of course he looks like a Kyahtt,” said Russel in similar hushed
tones. “That's because he is one!”

Adrien
was tempted to ask just how many other species there were that walked
on two legs, but he was interrupted as one of the uniformed Daugs
shoved between them, carrying a barrel over his shoulders. “Make
way, step aside!” he snarled at Russel, and then he looked at
Adrien – and he stopped in his tracks, his wolf-like face confused
at the sight of the pale human. The barrel fell to the cobblestones
with a heavy thud as he then burst through the crowd toward his
superior. “Captain! Captain! You need to look at this!” he
barked, urgency in his voice as he pointed at Adrien.

The
Kyahtt officer's eyes followed that pointing finger, and his pupils
contracted into slits as he saw Adrien. He blinked, slowly, with an
almost casual air that didn't match his subordinate's excitement, but
the way his eyes moved didn't hide an uncomfortable lash of his tail.
“We're moving out,” he called out, calmly but loudly enough to
be heard by the rest of his men.

“But
we haven't finished loading the goods!” protested one of the other
uniformed Daugs.

“I
said we are moving out, soldier!” barked the captain as he went
toward one of the carriages and, with a single swift move, leaped up
to land in the driver's seat. He used the reins to maneuver the
carriage around, the bird-like beasts pulling it as he directed as he
turned it and started off away from town. The abruptness of his
departure sent the collectors scrambling to catch up, with confused
locals having to step aside to avoid being in the way as they drove
the carriages away, some with crates or barrels falling out the rear
as their doors had not been fully shut before the retreat.

It
was a surreal experience to see what looked like military men
reacting in such a panic, and Adrien knew that everyone's eyes at
least momentarily glanced at him as everyone thought the same
question: why did this boy elicit that kind of response?

This is all I have so far, over 20,000 words total; frankly I've decided I can't continue to write this story as I am right now, so if there's more of the story to read, it'll be because I'm enjoying writing it again and not viewing it as a chore to do.  Just figured I'd give fair warning to anyone who might expect to see this completed this month.

* * *

“You're
still worried about what happened?” asked Russel as he laid back in
the open field, his leather tank top stretching as he raised his arms
behind his head, a piece of wheat grass sticking out of his mouth.

Adrien
shook his head, sitting up on the same hill that he and Russel had
chosen to rest on for their break. Here they had a good view of
Harvist as well as many of the fields around it. “It does bother
me quite a bit,” admitted Adrien as he glanced up at the mottled
sky, his hat off for once in the overcast day. “That commander
didn't seem like the kind of person who'd be afraid of me. He left
urgently, like he recognized what I was.”

“Oh,
I get it,” said Russel as he looked over at his human friend. “You
think he knows about hyoo-mans and might have some answers about how
to get you home.”

“I
don't think it's too likely about that last part, but it's a step in
the right direction either way. I wish I had a chance to ask him
what he knew.”

Russel
pushed himself up to a sitting position, shrugging. “It's true we
don't really have any clues around here for you. I wish I could be
more help.”

“How
about we go back into the swamp to look for where I first entered
this world? Maybe there's a way back in there.” Adrien felt no
joy in the suggestion; he still felt uneasy about the marshland and
the terrors that lived in it, but it was also the only place near
Harvist that they hadn't explored in since they left the swamp the
first day Adrien had come here.

“I'll
ask Sheo for a day off so we can do that,” promised Russel as he
glanced up at the sky. “But we still have work to do today, and
it's cloudy again. Smells like it might rain soon. A bit gloomy for
a day in the swamp, don't you think?”

“Maybe,
but I've always liked overcast days better than sunny ones,” said
Adrien as he pushed himself up from the ground and stood up. “Well,
we should probably get back to work, for now.”

“That
reminds me.” Russel stepped over to Adrien and presented him with
a long dagger, much like the ones he had seen almost all the field
workers carry. “I bought this the other day. I figured you should
have your own cutfeather.”

For
all the time that Adrien had been here, he'd never heard that word
before. “A cutfeather?”

“It's
a feather from a sharpwing,” explained Russel. “They have unique
feathers that are very sharp, which they molt every now and then.
They are then snipped and shaped until they are like you see them.
It's a rare art for people to learn how to make them, though we get a
good supply from other towns.”

Adrien
examined the knife, his first true gift from his Daug friend.
Despite it being almost big enough to be a short sword for him, it
was very light and well-balanced. Most of the weight was in the
hilt, which was really just a wrapping of sturdy leather around the
feather's quill. He had never looked at the knives up close before,
only assuming that the equilateral dual edge had been made by a
craftsman, but a closer look revealed the finest wavy lines in the
metallic shape that indicated the shape of a feather's barbs. If
this was how large one of the feather of this sharpwing bird was, and
this had been cut down in size...he was impressed by how big the
actual bird itself must be.

“You
didn't have to,” said Adrien mildly. “But I really appreciate
this. Thank you.”

“Really,
it's just something you ought to have anyway.” Russel handed over
a leather sheath to go with it, which was lined with a sandpaper-like
substance. “This will keep your blade protected and help sharpen
it at the same time.”

“It
was this kind of feather that's on the tip of your spear, isn't it?”

Russel
nodded. “It's a fine and useful tool, Adrien. And who knows,
maybe it will come in handy in trying to find your way home. Now, we
should go back to work. Mama's got gingerbread cookies in the oven,
and I want to work up a good appetite for them when we get home!”

The
two friends started down the hill, but Russel stopped as he pointed
up into the sky. “Look at that!” he breathed, awestruck.

Adrien
stared as a large ship hovered through the air. It was like a
floating cruiser, with a sharp bow that cut through the air and
ball-shaped turrets aiming cannons in all directions. Large wings
with propellers built into their length stuck out to the sides, while
tail fins featuring maneuvering thrusters appeared to guide the
cruiser as it came close to Harvist. The gray metal sides had flags
emblazoned on the sides, a large gold paw shape in the middle of a
diagonally-divided field of red and green. He was amazed once again
at the kind of technology these people had, to put such a
heavy-looking ship into the sky and keep it aloft.

The
ship lowered itself above the town, and long ropes were dropped out
of hatch doors on the sides. It was too far away to see clearly, but
Adrien thought he saw people in uniform using the ropes to drop down
into the town itself. Moments later, smoke started to rise from the
town as the skyboat pulled the lines back up and landed on the north
side of the town. Distant screams could be heard.

“What...what
is this?!” cried out Russel with a yip of bewilderment. “That's
one of the army's skyboats! They have no reason to do this!” He
burst into an all-out run for Harvist. “I'm going to stop them!”

“Wait,
stop, Russel! We can't take them on by ourselves!” called out
Adrien.

“I
can't stand by and watch them do this!” was the answer.

Adrien
also broke into a run, a deep fear making itself naked in his mind:
the army was here for him, and they were going to use whatever
methods necessary to get what they wanted.

Harvist
burned as Adrien entered the town. Russel was gone, had outpaced
Adrien easily with his larger legs. Everything was cast in yellow
and orange from the flames that rose in the houses, and the heat left
Adrien sweating as he ran down the cobblestone road toward the one
thing he hoped would allow him to save Russel from his impetuousness.

He
approached the garage next to Sheo's house, but saw two Daugs
standing there in front of the bay door with rifles of some kind in
their hands. Thinking quickly, he ducked into a tight alley and went
around to the back of the garage, where a smaller locked door led
into the room where the tractor was kept with the various tools and
parts needed to maintain it. Adrien pulled a key out of his trouser
pocket and unlocked it, shutting it behind himself as he entered. It
was much darker in here, especially after being out where the fires
burned hot and bright under the smoke-filled sky.

“Please
forgive me, Sheo,” he said under his breath as he strode quickly to
the side of the tractor, “but I'm going to need to borrow this for
a while.”

He
suddenly felt someone grab his shoulder, and with a yank he spun into
the fist of his attacker. He felt his back hit the side of the
tractor as he tried to adjust his bent glasses, and his adjusting
eyes managed to make out the crouching form of a uniformed Kyaht in
front of him.

“You're
not going anywhere, rebel,” sneered the Kyaht, but then he hissed
as he saw Adrien more carefully. “Wait, aren't you the-”

Adrien
swung the toe of his boot into the Kyaht's crotch. The soldier
keeled over with a cough, but still reached for his leg with a set of
claw-tipped fingers. Pulling back, Adrien went around the front of
the tractor to the other side to put it between himself and the
soldier, and then launched himself up into the seat. He felt a
trickle of blood on his face where he'd been hit, but he ignored the
sting as he brought the tractor to life with the press of a button.

The
soldier reached up and grabbed the edge of the tractor's cockpit,
trying to drag himself back up to his feet. Adrien slammed a fist
onto the Kyaht's fingers and heard him yowl as he slipped and fell
back. He thought two steps ahead, knowing that bringing the tractor
out into the open might attract more attention, but that it may be
worth it if he took the soldiers by surprise; they might not guess
that a border town like this had an Ellem in working order.

Adrien
brought the tractor to a standing position and flexed its
cylinder-segmented grippers into fists. He slammed the door hard
with both arms as he made the tractor run forward, and it broke the
garage door from its tracks and flattened it on top of the two
soldiers guarding the garage. Adrien nearly lost his balance as the
tractor stepped onto the door, unstable as it was with it balancing
on two Daugs, but he brought it onto the cobblestone road and aimed
for the center of town at full tilt.

It
was like some demented nightmare he had been pushed into awake.
Flames licked at the homes around him, the homes of people he had
grown to know and care for. His glasses reflected the flames, but
his heart reflected an emotion much the opposite. Cold calculation
was driving him now. Up ahead, he saw townsfolk being herded toward
the skyboat's waiting bay doors by two lines of troopers on either
side.

Adrien
ran with clanking steps toward the line, thinking he could catch the
soldiers off-guard and at least free the townsfolk while he caused a
distraction. But Russel barreled out of a nearby side street –
quite literally, as he threw a wine barrel at one of the soldiers,
smashing it and its contents. With a ferocious growl, he then swung
one of his meaty arms in a fierce cross to send another soldier
spinning. Adrien almost felt sorry for the soldiers; Russel wasn't
much taller than them, but he was much larger than most of them.

But
soldiers further away pointed their rifles, and fired bullets that
cut and whistled through the air. And with the ruckus drawing their
attention toward the back of the line, they saw Adrien coming in the
tractor and opened fire on it as well. Sparks spattered against the
ceramite hull and brass limbs of the tractor as Adrien knocked more
soldiers aside.

“Russel,
Adrien!” Mother Earfold called out above the crowd as she pushed
against the rifles of soldiers trying to keep the townsfolk from
escaping. “Get out of here, there's nothing you can do here!”

“I
won't leave you!” cried out Russel, deeply pained at the thought of
abandoning his kin.

Adrien
didn't need to think twice about their situation. “We're no match
for this force!” he yelled as he drove the tractor over to Russel
and picked him up by trapping the Daug against the tractor's frame
with one of his arms. “We have to get out of here!”

“No!
Let me go!” Russel strained against the machine, but even his
strength couldn't help without leverage to properly break free.
“That's my family!”

“Stop
that Ellem!” came the angry roar of a soldier, and Adrien felt a
bullet nearly part his hair.

“We'll
come back for them later, I promise!” shouted Adrien as he turned
the tractor and bolted down the side street Russel had emerged from.
Manipulating the controls of the Ellem so roughly was taxing Adrien's
endurance, and he knew that he couldn't fight off this military force
with just himself and Russel. At least, not without more knowledge
of what the enemy was doing, and more about the skyboat itself.

They
dashed for the edge of town at top speed, ignoring the calls of
soldiers around the city and the roaring of the flames. Adrien
didn't have time to think too much further ahead than simply
escaping, and at his current trajectory, he was heading east out of
town.

“Russel,”
addressed Adrien as he propelled the tractor off of the cobblestone
road and onto the grasslands, “where's a good place we can hide
with the tractor?”

“We
need to go back!” cried out Russel, pitiful as he reached back to
the burning Harvist.

“Russel,
I can't do this on my own!” snapped Adrien as he glanced over his
shoulder and saw the skyboat's armored hull and large cannons. He
didn't like the idea that those turrets could be aimed in his
direction at any moment. “We need to get out of sight as soon as
possible! And if we have any chance of helping your family, we can't
be caught by those soldiers!”

But
Russel was inconsolable right now, blubbering in a way that seemed so
in contrast with his savagery when he attacked earlier. Adrien gave
up trying to convince the Daug, and focused on piloting the tractor
away from the town. He only dared to glance back one more time, and
he saw no apparent change in either the skyboat or the town. Soon
they were well and away from the town, the hills cutting them off
from sight, smell and sound of the burning buildings.

Adrien
kept the tractor moving as hard as he could, not about to stop in any
place where the soldiers would quickly find them once the skyboat
went aloft. The rolling hills gave way to an open plain,
lighter-colored grass flying underfoot as the tractor sped along with
gangly feet. Even after snapping on the restraint belt, he rocked in
his seat with each step. Up ahead, he saw the beaten-down dirt road
wind over the plain like a sandy ribbon, leading to a forest of lush
and thick trees. Adrien narrowed his eyes, wishing the mechanical
walker had some kind of windshield as bits of dust and grass flew
into his face. There. The forest was safety.

As
he slowed down to enter the treeline, he heard the distant buzz of
the skyboat's propellers kick up to full power, even at this
distance. But Adrien had to dodge trees now, and couldn't spare the
slightest glance backward to see how much distance they still had.
It felt like it took forever to break through the underbrush and stay
under the cover of the trees, but Adrien only stopped deep in the
woods, slowing the tractor down to a gradual stop. And then he
listened, tense in his seat.

The
overpowering roar of the skyboat passed by overhead, spotlights
piercing the thicky canopy with shafts of light...and then the sound
became more distant as the flying ship went further and further away.
Only when it was completely gone did Adrien take in some air,
realizing only then that he had been holding his breath.

“Russel,
are you okay?” asked Adrien as he released the Daug from the grip
of the tractor's arm.

Russel
staggered to a nearby tree, holding out one hand to support himself
against its trunk as he beat against the bark with a fist. “No!”
he cried, distraught and shaking. “They just burned my home, took
my family! How can I be okay when I let them do that? This
is...this is madness. There is no reason in this! None at all!”

Adrien
brought the tractor down and climbed out, walking over to his friend.
“Russel, this isn't any easier for me,” he said softly. He
reached up and put a hand on Russel's shoulder. “But getting
captured wouldn't have helped anyone. We haven't done anything
wrong, so whoever sent those soldiers did so with no good reason.
We'll get your family back safe, Russel – we'll get everyone back.”

Russel
wiped his eyes, and turned to Adrien. “Y-you're right,” he
stammered, “we would just be stuck with the others, and it would
have been for nothing...I just wasn't thinking.” Russel poked
Adrien in the chest. “But you! You can think! If you hadn't
thought of the tractor, we would have been done, for sure.”

“We
were just lucky it was still in the garage, and not out in the
fields,” dismissed Adrien as he walked back to the tractor. “But
even with the tractor, we still don't have much of a way to rescue
anyone. Where would prisoners of the House of Dorbuust be taken?”

Russel
blinked, then shrugged. “I'm not sure – I've heard stories about
a prison fortress, but if that were true, it'd probably be somewhere
near the capital.”

“That
makes sense, the Duke would want to keep an eye on his enemies where
he has the greatest strength,” said Adrien out loud. “So we have
to get help first.”

“But
where can we find help?” asked Russel as he spread his hands out,
his wide booted feet sliding a little in the thin grass under the
trees. “If we get to the next town, and maybe if we explain what
happened, someone will-”

“They'll
rat us out to the Duke, and then we'll get arrested too,” finished
Adrien. “Remember, it's just our word against the army's, and most
people will still be loyal to him. So we've got to go where we can
count on people who can help us because they don't like him any more
than we do.” He hopped up into the tractor, checking over the
controls.

“Wait...”
It took Russel a few moments of thinking, but when he realized what
Adrien meant, he ran up to the tractor and leaned against the edge of
it. “You don't mean...Gurnsville?! The rebels? But if we go
there, then we'll be really criminals!”

“We're
running from the army already, Russel. The people in Gurnsville
might be the only ones who'll listen to us now.” Adrien adjusted
his glasses, bending them back as much as he could to their former
shape before they had gotten damaged by the soldier that attacked
him. “It's our best shot, and even if they don't listen, we'll be
with a group that even the Duke isn't willing to fight right away.
That Kyaht officer said they were gathering supplies and recruiting
soldiers for a campaign in two weeks, and that was only a couple of
days ago. We just have to get there before the fighting starts.”

“I
don't know,” said Russel uncertainly. He climbed up onto the
flat-topped engine of the tractor, laying down flat across it. “But,
what I do know is that you're a good thinker. You helped me kill the
flisk, and now you helped me get out of there. So, just count on me
to do what you tell me to do.”

“Russel...”

Russel
smiled. “So what are we waiting for? We should head east through
the forest. I don't know exactly where Gurnsville is, but I bet we
can ask someone along the way.”

Adrien
felt much better having Russel's support. “Let's get to it, then.
Hang on tight.”

The
muffled clanking of the tractor reverberated through the silent
forest as they proceeded on their way.

Adrien
and Russel took turns piloting the tractor so that they could each
rest, but still keep up the pace. It was Russel's turn to drive when
they reached the edge of the forest, and he followed the treeline as
far as he could before breaking off and heading more directly east
again, guided by the compass built into Adrien's cell phone.

Adrien
stared up at the night sky. It had been hours since they had made
the decision to go to Gurnsville, and they hadn't talked much since
then. It gave him the time to organize the plan more firmly in his
mind. He had lost everything he had, including his messenger bag,
when Harvist was burned; the only item he had always kept on his
person was the phone, in the bizarre hope that he would get a call
from home. Other than that, Russel and Adrien's combined possessions
included the leather-and-cloth clothes that they wore on their backs,
the tractor, and their individual cutfeathers. There was an
emergency repair and first aid kit in the tractor, but that would
only be good for basic injuries or damage – and as much as Adrien
had learned about Ellems, he wasn't sure he could repair it if
something went truly wrong. He had only slightly more confidence in
his and Russel's expertise in healing. If anything, the main assets
they had at this time were Russel's brawn and Adrien's brains.

And
Adrien wasn't even sure if he had those. Sure, he had noticed that
the people in this world seemed to react more by instinct than by
thinking – but until now, he hadn't realized how much of an asset
it was to set aside emotion and instinct. He was scared, and had no
way to know if his new plan would work, but there was simply no
chance that he was going to give up now. His many hours in the
fields had taught him a certain patience and resilience of mind that
he didn't have before. He had a plan; that was all he needed to keep
himself going for now. That, and Russel.

He
looked over at the brown Daug that he called friend. Russel was
strong but shortsighted, knowledgeable about the shard but also naïve
and somewhat limited in knowing what was beyond his hometown. He was
good to have along, but in some ways his blind willingness to obey
Adrien bothered him. It made Adrien think of how dogs on Earth could
be loyal to a human master...and though it was tempting to take pride
in Russel's steadfastness, he felt eerie about having someone who
acted more like a servant or slave than a friend. Adrien felt like
he would have to be careful not to abuse his Daug friend's trust.

The
ride was smoother now that they were going at a more controlled pace,
and the gentle up-and-down motions of the tractor soothed Adrien,
allowing him to drop off to sleep.

“Adrien?
Adrien, wake up!”

Adrien
felt Russel's hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. The urgency
in his voice brought Adrien awake quickly, and he sat up. “What is
it, Russel?”

“I
think we're lost,” said Russel.

Adrien
looked around, finding it hard to see because his eyes were blurry.
He wiped at his face with the back of his sleeve, then looked around
again – and realized that it wasn't his eyes that were the trouble.
They were in a misty grove, with fog thick enough that they couldn't
see very far ahead of themselves. Large rocks dominated many spots
on the ground around them, with ghostly white trees twisted and
snaking through the air. Several white dots hung in the air,
glistening with some sort of luminescence. Underfoot of the tractor,
Adrien noticed a slight tilt, like they were standing sideways on an
incline.

“Calm
down,” he said automatically, glancing at his phone and pointing at
the indicator. “We're still headed east, aren't we? We'll just
keep going until we can see another town, and then we should be able
to find some information about Gurnsville.”

“I
think I've heard stories about this place,” Russel said with unease
as he cast glances around. “The White Woods. It's said that
people who enter it get lost, and never come out again.”

So
that explained the fur standing up on the back of Russel's neck and
shoulders. Adrien felt disturbed, but he also couldn't help but view
Russel's explanation as yet another of the fanciful stories that he
told about the floating continent. “We should be fine. We have
something that they didn't have, and that's this,” he said,
pointing over Russel's shoulder to the phone. “As long as we
follow that, then we should be able to get out of here.”

“You're
right,” agreed Russel brightly, but then he glanced around at their
surroundings again. “Still, this place is creepy. I can't smell
or hear anything alive in this forest.”

Now
that Russel mentioned it, Adrien didn't hear any chirps or hoots or
any of the other noises he had heard even while in the Blackwood
Swamp. There was no wind, and the fog was thick enough to block out
the sun overhead. Only ambient light from the trees around them
allowed them to see, and even then, the fog caught it in diffusion
and made it difficult to see.

“Maybe
there's a reason for that,” said Adrien carefully. “But we can't
let that stop us. We just need to be careful, and keep on moving.
I'll drive.”

“Okay.”

They
switched places, although Russel slid down to stand on the step by
the side of the engine, and Adrien heard the rough slide of the Daug
drawing his cutfeather out of his sheath. Adrien made sure his own
dagger was ready to pull out at any moment before he pushed the
tractor forward again.

On
and on through the mist they went, following the phone's compass as
the only guide they could trust in the fog. The hillside they were
on got steeper, and there was plenty of loose rock underfoot that
made it tricky to move the tractor over. Adrien found he was working
harder to keep the machine upright as they slipped and slid at
points, but so far there was no trouble.

“It's
just this feeling, you know?” whined Russel, who kept watch around
them while Adrien focused forward.

“Like
we're being watched?”

“Exactly.”

Adrien
felt it too. An odd prickling at the back of his neck, the one he
always felt when people were staring at him because of his looks.
Except this was more malevolent, more insidious.

“Adrien,
stop!”

The
human halted the machine. “What is it? Did you see something?”
It was Adrien's turn to glance around.

“I
saw a shadow in the fog, to our right,” Russel answered. “And it
was...big.”

“How
big?”

“...maybe
as big as the tractor.”

They
went silent, in an unspoken agreement as they scanned the trees and
rocks, looking for anything out of place. Adrien couldn't see
anything else, and yet everything in his senses warned him that there
was something else out there.

Something
scraped on the stones to Adrien's left, and he turned his head in
time to catch a glimpse of a long shape slip around one of the
standing boulders. “On the left,” he whispered, tense as he
tried to stay as still as possible.

“Saw
it too,” whispered Russel back. “What should we do?”

Adrien
weighed the options. Run, or try to fight. He had no idea what this
creature was capable of, assuming it was even just one – for all
they knew, they could be surrounded. “We keep going, but we keep
our eyes peeled and stay ready,” he decided.

He
pushed the foot pedals, driving the tractor forward. In the same
instant, a silhouette in front suddenly became darker, and Adrien
shoved the tractor down low to dodge the winged creature that flew at
them. The wind from its passing whipped the air around them, but it
was so fast that Adrien had no chance to get more of an idea of it
than that it was a huge winged reptilian creature.

“A
dragon?!” yelled Russel. “Adrien!”

“We're
getting out of here!” shouted Russel as he tilted the tractor
forward again at full throttle. Shaky as their footing was, he dared
to risk that it was safer to leave the forest than it was to stick
around any longer. “Hold on tight!”

Time
lost itself as Adrien propelled the machine through the fog. Only
the sound of scales against stone warned Russel of the next attack.
“Adrien, go left!” he cried, and Adrien veered left to dodge
another swiping flyby from the dragon. He turned back to the east,
feeling the hill rising underfoot. Maybe if they could get to the
top of the steepening incline, they could see above the fog and get a
better look at this attacker.

A
boulder toppled in their direction from the left, forcing Adrien to
reach up with the tractor's arm and push off the falling rock to leap
out of the way. When he landed on the ground in a run, he was
heading down the incline in a southeastern direction – and just as
suddenly as the attacks had started, there was no other sign of the
dragon or of anything else moving besides them.

Adrien
waited a few minutes, maintaining this new heading, before he decided
to test his rapidly-developing hypothesis by turning back to go up
the hill. Human curiosity had gotten the better of him. But before
he had even taken a single step, he stopped, the outline of the
dragon crouching in the fog ahead of them clearly visible through the
white haze...and glimmering eyes glowing with malevolent intent.

“I
think I get the idea,” surrendered Adrien as he turned the tractor
back around, and headed down the rocky incline as quickly as the
machine could take them. Neither he nor Russel saw the massive
dragon again as they exited the white trees and their attendant mist.
The White Woods soon laid behind them, and they saw that the steep
“hill” they had been attempting to climb was the edge of a
mountain that stood far above the fabled forest.

A
mountain that Adrien had no intention of climbing. It was like the
land decided to shoot up a sharp-pointed pillar of dark stone
directly into the air. Not that a challenge like that would even be
possible unless they somehow got past the dragon...

“Adrien,
I think we figured out the reason why people keep disappearing in the
White Woods,” gasped Russel.

Adrien
laughed – whether because his friend's slowness amused him, or just
to relieve some of the tension from their jaunt in the woods, he
wasn't sure and didn't care. But when he was done, he couldn't help
but pose the question: “Yes, Russel, but why didn't that dragon
make us 'disappear' like so many others?”

Even
without looking, Adrien could tell his Daug friend shrugged as he
climbed back onto the top of the tractor. “Maybe he he'd already
eaten.”

They
continued their journey across another beaten plain in silence.

Russel
was the first to spot the familiar sight of chimney smoke in the
distance, and sure enough, Adrien soon found another town growing up
in front of them. Russel was not familiar enough with the rest of
the shard to know exactly which town was which beyond the handful
that were close enough to Harvist to travel to on foot, so they had
no idea yet whether this was Gurnsville or some other settlement.

“It's
not like I never had the chance to go traveling,” explained Russel
as they traveled toward a small stand of trees near the town –
Adrien's plan demanded that they keep the tractor out of sight of the
town as much as possible, since they might still be looked for. “My
older brothers left Harvist to go to bigger towns across the shard.
I even have one brother who lives in the capital! They sent money
back home when they could. But I never really felt the wanderlust
they did, and Harvist was always big enough for me.”

Adrien
admitted he had felt the same way. Sure, back on Earth his family
had traveled a lot – they had visited many historical sites in
Europe, where Adrien was usually most impressed by the many castles –
but actually being in Harvist, living the simpler life his parents
always talked about trying, felt magnificent after he got over his
initial reticence. He missed having a lot of the conveniences of
Earth, but somehow, he felt happier during his time in Harvist than
any other time he could recall in his sixteen years on Earth.

The
subject of Harvist still had a bittersweet taste, however, and Adrien
and Russel soon left off that conversation. What was more important
now was to figure out where they were, preferably without letting the
local authorities know that they were escapees from Harvist.

“I'm
just afraid that we've been branded as outlaws,” explained Adrien.
“And this tractor and I are both too distinctive to be ignored if
the locals mention anything to the army, so we've got to hide.”

“So
all I've got to do is go into town, ask about Gurnsville, and come
right back?” asked Russel, straightforward as ever. His tail and
ears drooped simultaneously as a thought came to him. “But what if
you get seen before I come back? I wouldn't be there to protect you
if something went wrong.”

Adrien
thumped a hand against the solid side of the tractor. “If I have
to, I can always run away from trouble in this. And the only real
trouble we have to worry about right now, at least as far as I can
tell, is the army.”

“Hummm...but
what if someone recognizes me?” Russel asked, scratching his chin
as he looked over at the town. They were much closer now, and even
through the tree cover they could see that it was a bigger town in
some ways than Harvist, but the buildings were mostly one-story-tall
clay domes. Only a few of the structures stood taller than that,
though one structure, where most of the smoke came from, was a large
boxy building with several smokestacks and metal sheeting for walls
and ceiling. Russel suggested it might be a smelting plant, as the
town had the smell of crystal miners.

“We'll
have to take that chance. You're pretty big, but other than that
you'd certainly blend in a lot better than I would. And what's more
important is that you ask about Gurnsville in as quiet a way as you
can. If this isn't the place, then asking about it might be
dangerous, since other towns might try to turn us into the army.”

Russel
shook his head. “I'm not really good at, um...being sneaky about
stuff. I don't know where I'd ask.”

Adrien
knew that Russel was about as subtle as a hammer, but that didn't
daunt him. “See if there's a tavern, and ask the bartender what
he's heard about Harvist. We've been on the road for a couple of
days, so maybe news of what happened has gotten here by now. Maybe
we weren't the only ones who got away, either. Then maybe you can
ask about where Gurnsville is, and if anyone asks why, just say you
heard it was a rebel town and wanted to avoid it.”

“Okay.
Asking about Harvist shouldn't be so bad.”

Adrien
stopped the tractor behind a group of trees that stood close
together, blocking them from view of the town. Russel hopped off the
tractor and waved to Adrien. “I'll be back as soon as I can!” he
promised, and went into town.

Adrien
took one last glance around, then retrieved his cell phone and
tinkered with it. Most of the apps were useless to him in this
alternate world, but ever since he had arrived here, he had been
finding a use for the MapMaker program that he had gotten on a whim
once. As he and Russel chatted about the shard's geography, he had
been slowly updating a map he created specifically for Dorbuust. It
was nowhere near complete, but that was exactly why he wanted to work
on it now while they had a moment of respite from their travels. He
only hoped that Russel would be able to find enough information to
make their next move with, and not give away their location in the
process.

Russel
pushed open the doors to the Hammer and Chisel tavern, his
nose assaulted by the various odors of wines and spirits that
percolated in the stale air inside. With only a couple of windows at
the front, the rest of the bar had to be lit by small lanterns to
keep it light enough to see by, and even then there were plenty of
shadows for patrons to hide themselves in. Everything seemed to be
carved from the same old brown wood, looking cracked and ribbed from
years of use, from the walls and floor to the chairs and tables. The
bartender, a gray-furred Daug with a stout belly and stouter
mustache, cleaned out a wide-lipped glass with a black-scuffed cloth.
He only looked up, along with the shady characters at the tables, to
stare at Russel's entrance for a few moments before turning back to
his work. Some of the other patrons didn't stop staring, which made
Russel nervous, though he tried to keep from looking like it as he
stepped up to the bar.

“What'll
you have?” asked the bartender gruffly as he set aside the glass.

“I'm,
uh, here to look for some information,” stated Russel as he sat on
a barstool. “You hear anything about-”

“Sorry,
lad, but if it's information you're wantin', then you'd better get
yourself a drink first.” The bartender pulled out another dirty
glass and began to wipe it out with the same cloth.

Russel's
tail and ears drooped, but he tried to hide his disappointment –
even though there was no way to pay, since he never had carried money
before except when his mother told him to go buy something at the
town market. “Oh, I see...sorry to bother you, then.”

He
turned in his seat and made to get up, but someone put a hand on his
shoulder. “Hold it, stranger,” whispered a feminine voice, “what
sort of information were you looking for?”

Russel's
ears perked, and he turned his head to look at the speaker. She was
a good head shorter than him, and wore a hooded cloak that was long
enough to go nearly all the way to the floor. Though the hood was
drawn close to her muzzle, Russel could tell that she was a Kyaht,
although he couldn't smell anything more precise about her – she
probably used some herbs to mask her distinct scent, which meant she
had something to hide. He could make out that her eyes were a strong
blue as they looked at him with muted interest.

“Well,
uh,” he stammered, a bit flummoxed by being approached like this,
“I wanted to ask about, um...Harvist, and Gurnsville. You see,
I've got a-”

A
finger to his lips silenced him, and the mysterious Kyaht girl turned
to the bartender, placing a few coins on the counter with a clatter.
“Two apple beers,” she ordered casually.

The
bartender swept the coins into his apron pocket, a little too
casually for Russel's liking. “But that's way more than enough
for-”

“Have
them brought over to our table,” interrupted the Kyaht as she
grabbed Russel's arm and pulled him along to a table in the corner.
They sat down, and she hissed, “Are you an idiot or something?”

Russel
grimaced. “Uh, er...sorry, what did I do wrong?”

“The
extra money was a bribe to keep him quiet, you oaf,” she huffed.
“Keep your voice down. Do you want information or not?”

“Well,
yes,” he said, glancing around at all the strangers who had taken
casual interest in his noisiness and only turned away as he looked
back at them.

“Then
here's the scoop. Harvist was burned to the ground, and the army is
looking for two people who escaped with an Ellem. They've tried to
be quiet about it, though, since they're blaming rebels from
Gurnsville for the attack.”

“What?!
But that's a lie, it was the army who-”

The
Kyaht kicked Russel's shin. “Shush! Remember where you are!”

“Sorry,
sorry.” Russel felt pretty sheepish – he realized that he gave
himself away, though he hadn't meant to. “Um, you're not going to
turn me in to them, are you?”

“No.
So you're one of the ones they're looking for, the
survivors...interesting.”

Russel
shook his head, then looked back at the room before he continued.
“No, I think everybody survived – most of the rest of the town
was kidnapped by the army. I saw them taking them onto their
cruiser.”

“Really?
That's certainly big news.” She sat back in her seat for a
moment, considering him with those big feline eyes. “You're too
obvious and big to be a scout for the army. What I can't figure out
is why you don't know where Gurnsville is. It's no real secret, it's
just that it's too well-entrenched to attack right away. Ever hear
of something called a map?”

“Hey,
I never had a reason to leave Harvist before now,” protested Russel
as he leaned forward in his chair, placing one hand heavily on the
table. “I'm not that dumb either. You haven't reported me to the
army, and you're acting all suspicious like you don't want to be seen
either. You're with them, aren't you? The Gurnsville rebels?”

There
was a tiny smirk on the Kyaht's snowy muzzle. “Looks like you've
got a brain under all that muscle after all. Yes, I'm with them all
right. So we're on the same page? I scratch your back, you scratch
mine...”

Russel's
ears perked up. “Well, it's not like we have any other place to
go, right? I just need to know where to go from here to get to
Gurnsville.”

The
Kyaht pushed her chair back and stood up, stretching the claws of one
spotted paw against the gnarled table top. “Head southeast from
here, until you reach the Middle Sea,” she whispered as she stepped
by him. “Follow the coastline into an inlet with a large rock,
shaped like a sword pointed inland. The sword will point the way.”

“Hey,
what's your-”

She
left before he could finish his question, through the front doors
with a sweep of her cloak. Russel sat there, staring at the door as
if expecting her to come back. The bartender came up with two fizzy
glasses. “Here's your apple beers...though I guess the lady
couldn't wait.”

Russel
shrugged, and took both glasses from the bartender. “Waste not,
want not,” he declared, and proceeded to chug both of the soft,
sweet drinks, one right after the other. That got a hoot or two from
nearby tables, but they didn't know that Russel hadn't had much more
than a few sips from a cold stream that he and Adrien had come across
during their trip, and he was very thirsty. Almost immediately after
finishing, he regretted having not saved one of the drinks for
Adrien. But that just reminded him of what he had learned, and he
bolted for the doors. “Thank you very much!” he called back over
his shoulder, blinking in the daylight outside as his eyes got used
to the change in illumination.

It
didn't take long to get through the dusty streets back to the cool
grass of the stand of trees. Russel jogged the rest of the way,
turning around the trees that blocked his clear view of the tractor.
“Adrien, I found out how to-”

He
stopped short at seeing three mangy-looking Daug bandits, dressed in
ragged oilcloth, standing around Adrien's prone form. They looked up
to see him, and Russel bared his teeth and growled, ready to attack.

An
attack that did not come, as something hard clubbed him in the back
of his head, and he fell to the ground with a thump.

“Adrien...Adrien,
wake up!”

Adrien
did wake up, although it took him a few moments to realize that he
wasn't sleeping on the back of the tractor. And once that happened,
he jerked upright, though awkwardly since thick ropes were tied
around both his hands and his ankles. The room that he found himself
in was very dim, smelling musty with old hay. The scratchy rope
itched his wrists and ankles, and a hard wooden floor explained why
he felt sore after waking up. “Russel, where are we?” he asked
as he finally made out the bulky shape of his Daug comrade.

“We're
in the back of a cargo carriage,” said Russel, who must have been
awake at least long enough to piece together this information. “I
think we've been captured, but I don't think it's the army.”

“Captured?”
Adrien thought back to the last thing he could remember, which was
working on his map application on his phone...the phone that was no
longer in his pocket. His cutfeather was also missing. “Looks
like they got everything of value off of us. Lucky we still have our
clothes on.”

“I'm
sorry, Adrien, this must be because that lady told them where we
were,” whimpered Russel, despondent in his apparent failure to his
friend. “She told me where Gurnsville was, and I thought she was
really with them, but I guess I misjudged her.”

Adrien
had plenty of questions, but they were interrupted by a nasty chuckle
from the door. Adrien squinted at the only source of light in the
room, three slits cut as a makeshift window of the carriage
compartment they were in. Squinting right back at him was one of the
ugliest Daugs he had ever seen, with mud-brown fur covering the few
spots not covered with pale scars. His flesh was wrinkled along his
nose, and a black eye-patch covered his right eye. One of his ears
was bitten off at the base, and the other looked chewed up as well.
His left eye was a milky green, and it narrowed as the Daug chuckled
again at seeing Adrien's reaction.

“You
pups are lucky,” rasped the Daug, raising a twisted braid of weeds
to his lips and lighting the end with a match. “Yer the only ones
who've got a cart all to yerselves. Maybe if we make good time,
it'll stay thart way fer the rest o' the trip.” He eyed Adrien
with evil amusement. “Don't think I've never seen nothin' as ugly
as you before, boy.”

“Likewise,”
snapped Adrien, old scars of his own flaring at being stared at like
a sideshow attraction.

That
only made his prison-keeper chortle. “Got guts, boy – best
behave, and yer'll still have 'em inside of ya. Not many Daugs or
Kyahts alive that c'n stand up ta me, and breathe after. I'm Gos
Geens, and I'm the one gonna make or break yer hides from now on.”

Russel
growled. “If you lay a paw on Adrien, I'll break your hide!
And that girl you used to trap us!”

Gos
seemed to be a very jolly sort of villain, at least when he had his
victims helpless and there was a secure door between him and them.
“Girl? You mean the one you was jabbin' to back in Ferrous's bar?
Do I look like the type to have ninny Kyahts runnin' in my
pack o' hounds? Hardly! You just talked so loud it was obvious you
were fresh meat in town. And I likes my meat fresh.” He
licked his dirty jowls.

“What
did you do with our Ellem? And what about the other things you
stole?” asked Adrien, pressing for as much information as he could.