Christi thumped to the ground from the Atfur’s saddle. Up ahead, glowing brightly breaking the veiled shadow of the night was a large alcove, teeming with light. Voices drifted on the wind, voices of rambunctious men. Kydin stalked towards the alcove. Christi’s stomach lurched, just up ahead was a camp of ruthless warriors who killed for a living, and she had murdered one of them.

  She stopped dead in her tracks, the wind rustled her murky green hair. Kydin had assured her that the men would welcome her with open arms, yet now, standing just a few metres away she found herself unable to move. How could anyone accept that a weak little girl like her had killed Korill, a man who by Kydin’s own words was heralded as the strongest?

  Kydin turned, noting her reluctance. “What’s wrong? Come on, it's just up ahead.” Christi remained in place. A sigh escaped Kydin’s lips; he strolled back to her. “What’s bothering you?” he frowned.

  Christi stared down at her feet, a deflated expression on her face. “I’m just not sure about this anymore, maybe this isn’t me.”

  Kydin placed his hands on his hips as he regarded her. “Is this because of you killing Korill?”

  She fidgeted a subtle tell. Kydin caught her by both shoulders.

  “No matter which way you feel, remember, in Korill’s dying moments he entrusted you with his pendant. In Fheitgr culture that is a mark of respect, a display of recognition. I accepted you did I not? My men will too, that pendant is proof enough.”

  Christi nodded, Kydin grinned and ushered her forward.

  Roars and cheers erupted from the camp as they rounded the corner of the alcove. Men leapt to their feet and rushed over. Christi stood behind Kydin, stunned by the reception. Kydin smirked deeply, nodding towards the boisterous men.

  “See? Nothing to worry about. Go mingle a little. These are your kin, learn what it means to be Fheitgr.” Kydin nudged her forward. The men gestured for her to join them at the campfire where they had gathered. Tentatively she settled down next to the dancing flame. Next to her, a square-faced man leaned forward.

  “So? How did you best Korill?” he asked her.

  “I hit him a couple of times in the back of his head.”

  “How’d you manage that? Korill was the strongest among us, besides Kydin there was no one he could beat!” A circle of vocal agreement echoed through the cavern. The square-faced man pursed his lips and awaited her answer. Christi felt for the pendant, drawing it closer. Her knuckles whitened as she clasped her fist shut around the pendant.

  “I hit him when he had his back turned.”

  The group stilled to a hush, exchanging glances. Christi bowed her head, steeling herself for the immediate backlash. I knew it, they were never going to accept me, she thought. Instead what happened next surprised her. The men burst into howling laughter, and the square-faced man slapped her on the back.

  “Ha! You are a clever one, like Kydin. Why didn’t we think of that?!” the square-faced man rejoiced.

  “That’s because you’re stupid as a rock, Kyilvu!” jeered a lean warrior perched next to Kyilvu.

  “Bah! The same could be said for you, jou bastar!” Kyilvu shouted as he dove towards the man. The two men jostled wildly with each other, rolling about in a heap. The crowd urged them on, shouting and jeering. Christi began to chuckle at the absurdity of it all. A firm hand gripped her shoulder.

  “What is your name child?” asked another warrior. The men quieted, awaiting her answer.

  “Christi.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Chants rang out, her name springing to the lips of the crowd. She looked around, basking in the warmth of it all. For the first time in her life, she felt like she belonged. It was a strange but soothing new sensation.

  ???

  Kydin sat beside his bedroll. Rambunctious laughter continued to persist over where Christi sat, swamped by the jubilant crowd of men. All things considered, this is where she belonged. Kydin reached for his satchel.

  Now, where was that knettlesap? he mulled in his head as he rummaged through his satchel. A small pin bearing a decorative insignia spilled from the satchel, landing before him.

  A rising sun with a sparrow hawk mid-flight, his family crest. He plucked it from the ground, shifting it between his fingers.

  “Hej.”

  Loba stood before him, his hair was dishevelled and a defeated expression dominated his visage.

  “You look worse for wear. Well? How was he? How was the mighty Piotr Henlein, the clock-faced genius of the Pioneers?”

  “Strong, even with us surprising them.”

  “Them?” Kydin said, cocking his eyebrow.

  “Yeah, he had a partner with him. He was far better than I imagined.” Loba slumped down next to Kydin. “Their movements were so synchronized. Even with five, we struggled to contain those two.”

  Loba dropped his head, Kydin chuckled and bumped his shoulder. Loba was always so hard on himself.

  “Disappointed? Don’t be. I don’t think I could even beat Henlein in a fair fight. Besides, we succeeded in what we set out to do.”

  Loba nodded. Another bout of laughter arose from the campfire where Christi sat. To Kydin’s surprise, Loba scowled.

  “What’s she doing here?” he snapped.

  “She’s one of us now.”

  Loba’s face twisted into a nasty grimace.

  “One of us? She killed-”

  “Enough! Do you trust me Loba?”

  Loba exhaled sharply before matching Kydin’s intense gaze.

  “With all my being.”

  “Then trust me on this, the girl being here helps us. She is vital to my plan.”

  The cave fell silent. Kydin frowned, that was unlike his men. As he spun towards the campfire he understood why. Standing at the mouth of the cavern, some seven feet tall clad in a copper suit of armour was the knight. His visit had been earlier than expected but nonetheless Kydin had been expecting him.

  A guttural cry rang from where Christi stood. She charged the damned machine, her prosthetic arm alight with furious flames. Was she mad?!

  “Stop! Grab her!” he roared at his men. It was too late, already she had cleared the men and was now a mere few feet away from the knight. The knight unsheathed its long thin blade. Kydin dashed forward. Stupid girl! She was running to her death.

  The knight batted her down, stomping her to the ground. Kydin awaited her immediate death. The knight wouldn’t allow such an attack on it without repercussions. The blade glimmered in the pale blue moonlight. The knight sheathed its blade. Christi squirmed beneath the foot of the knight, cursing and yelling.

  Kydin dashed beyond his men. The knight’s gaze lingered on one thing, Christi’s prosthetic arm.

  “Where did you find that arm?” it asked.

  Kydin approached with caution, his hands raised. Christi clawed at the machine.

  “I apologise for her behaviour, she is new here.”

  “So it seems.”

  The knight relinquished its foot and stepped back, Kydin yanked Christi to her feet and restrained her. She lashed out wildly at him, kicking and squirming. To his surprise she was proving a lot more of a handful than he had expected.

  “I’ll kill you! You and all the other wretched machines!” she roared with indignation.

  Kydin handed her off to Kyilvu who dragged her back to the campfire. Her vehement shouts of anger refused to stop. The knight observed her before turning to Kydin.

  “We must speak. You are to share how things are progressing.”

  “Of course, let us speak outside.”

  Hung in the dark expanse above was the sickle-shaped moon. Baby blue coated its cracked surface. Pinpricks of silver light accompanied the moon on this clear night. They peppered the dark horizon. Kydin perched himself atop a large boulder, as always the knight remained stiffly standing. It was a machine through and through, no matter how much it resembled a human.

  “Speak” it demanded of him.

  “You’ll be satisfied to hear we are close to completing our task. While Barakat managed to repel the full brunt of the attack, my men have reported that Abraham took to the town’s stage where he openly condemned Henlein. Loba, one of my trusted men, also succeeded in wounding Henlein. His influence and health have been greatly diminished. We simply need to enact one final push and you shall have Henlein as promised.”

  The knight stared off into space. Even with its usual aloof demeanour, it seemed more vacant than normal tonight.

  “Who is the girl? The question surprised Kydin.

  “Henlein’s protege I believe, Christi is her name.”

  “Why is she here?”

  “She’s the final piece in this plan of mine, don’t worry, she’s just a pawn, nothing more.”

  The knight turned towards Barakat, the town was alight with a red hue that consumed three large buildings. Pillars of black smoke billowed from the rooftops, dissipating into the night sky.

  “My master will be pleased. We will speak again tomorrow.”

  The knight departed without so much as a word. A sigh escaped from Kydin’s lips as he threw himself back. A soft clang of metal sounded next to him, he perked up. A small circular lay next to him, he smirked, snatching it up.

  “So that’s where you were,” he said softly to himself as he undid the clasp on the thing. Stuffed inside was a small tuft of purple fauna ridged with brown stripes, Knettlesap. He pinched a small cluster of the herb and ground it between his fingers below his nostrils, deeply inhaling its bitter metallic aroma. A flush of relief poured over him, his body and mind mellowed.

  “Bloederig machine,” he cursed softly.