Never had I seen so far. The horizon stretched as an unbroken line of rolling hills and miniscule mountains under a dome of eye-piercing azure. Slowly with ponderous effort the world moved up and down, accompanied by sharp blasts of earthquake. Yet we moved fast, as fast as the clouds above.

"It's heading towards the frontier", I said. "Towards the Commonwealth."

Vesija could only answer through his panting. The outer rock layer of the Pylon had splintered into a web of ravines, and the rubble obscured our way towards the Tower of Seven Corners, still defiantly standing at the base of the summit.

Lake Hitunna had spilled from its bed, leaving the town as tangled mess of roots and spires hanging from the mountain side. I was glad that we were too far for Vesija to make out the remaining inhabitants and their struggle not to fall into the chasm above the steppe.

The Lady was present only as a distant rage. I felt free of her immediate attention, but little good that could do to me. We were trapped on the walking mountain.

"We can rest here a moment", I said.

"No, no..." The man took a deep breath. "I'm fine. We need to move. The ground must be safer 'inland'."

Though other circumstances wouldn't be. The wind carried the distinct crack and scream of a gunfight from the direction of the Tower.

"Did you know that the Pylon was a eremilith?" I asked to prolong our pause.

"I thought it a myth, a wishful exaggeration like those chariots pulled by man-made suns. Obviously there was more to the Pylon than a mere clump of rock, but one doesn't just excavate into it." The man hauled his leg up and mounted a rock to reach my waiting hand. "Right. Let's venture forth, to doom or glory, as they say in your chip dreadfuls."

We both didn't quite manage to smile at that moment.

In the maze of boulders close to the stone town, Vesija's frame tensed as he perked up to the sound of the skirmish stirring ahead. He stopped at the brink of the former shore. Only a forlorn mire, streaked with twisted cane, remained of the sapphire lake, with the tangled heaps of the town behind it. Vesija's face set in that cold frown men forced on their face to control a burst of unwanted emotion. I absolutely had to hug him, and he returned the embrace.

"What ever the reason to transport the Pylon..." he said. "It can't be worth it."

I remained quiet so he wouldn't have to say anything further.

In a lull in the fighting, the stone town appeared more dead than any lichfield. Yet now was the most dangerous moment to venture into the fray, as the combatants would be stalking their sightlines with jumpy trigger-fingers.

I grabbed Vesija's wrist and pulled us down kneeling. "We need to remain careful. Even without the Vaddic influence into their brain, if you see one of the Jaan, they definitely see you. And if they see you and I'm not between you and them, you are dead. So, promise me, no masculine heroics!"

The Iwunian hesitated long enough to maintain his pride but nodded.

"Follow my lead and stay as low as me. Or better yet, lower. And keep your hand on my shoulder." Not only would that let me know that he was right behind me, but also have my armour ––and flesh and bone–– shield him as much as possible with my limited frame. The stereotypical Jaan build certainly didn't make for good bodyguards.

A distinct boom and hiss followed by stony crackling came from afar. Vesija didn't react to it, mistaking it for the groans of the mountain, perhaps, but I knew it for the roar of pneumatic gunblast.

My eyes searched the surrounding buildings, and I pointed at a crumpled wall the height of two men. "Throw me up there!"

Though visibly bemused, the man went to lean on the wall and cupped his hands as a step. I jumped up and managed not to lose my balance, when the powerful arms flung me upwards. My hands caught the ragged edged, but only the inhuman strength of the suit kept me clinging. Carefully, I dragged myself up just enough to see over the wall.

At this point, what I saw only presented a mild surprise, no matter how unlikely the view was. I let myself drop down into the arms of my man. For a moment, I luxuriated in that embrace, before squirming out of his hold.

"There's a Jaan self-propelled siege gun nearer the tower."

The Iwunian paused his breathing for a moment. "That's impossible. They couldn't one past the sentries. The report––"

"Yes, that report intended to sniff out leaks. What better information to use than something without any other source, not even reality itself." I gestured to paint the primordial main boulevard in the air. "The gun dominates the way to the tower. Only some rubble covers its bulk, obviously daring the enemy to take a shot at it. Yet in better cover, armoured marksmen keep watch."

Vesija took a deep incredulous breath, sighed and nodded.

"Of course, it would have been lethally foolish to assume they weren't themselves covered by some of Motsa's hunters stalking in even better concealment."

"Did you see any of Teuna's men?"

"No, but I have a good hunch were they should be. Unfortunately, we need to cross the boulevard to get there."

"Oh." Vesija's gaze dropped only to perk up again. "Without the lake, we can just circle around the harbour."

While it had only served small vessels with low berth, the harbour edge was deep and very steep. The smoothed natural rock offered little in ways of handholds, so I ended up sliding down and tumbling over into the knee-deep mud. With his greater height, Vesija was able to descend more gracefully, and he helped me up on my feet.

Each step forward was a struggle against the quicksand slime. Arms grabbed me from behind and hoisted me up.

"What are you doing?" I demanded from Vesija.

"I can carry you over."

"My suit can handle this mud."

"Yes, but it'll tire. You must save all of your strength for later."

"Ah. Alright." I allowed him to have this moment of heroism. Besides, it was nice to clung into his mighty frame. Our wistful journey was dampened by the stench already rising from the stranded fish and the death throes of other lake creatures. Soon enough we crawled up the jagged cliff back to the stone city. Up there the air might have lacked the miasma of the lake bottom, but with the threat of needles and ballistic detritus, I didn't breathe any easier.

We should have been decently furtive. Splatters of mud had granted Vesija's suit a makeshift camouflage pattern, and the surface of my gown shifted with my environment. Yet even behind thick wall of ancient stone, I was exposed, watched, examined with scopes of all scales. Motsa saw me, but I resisted the impulse to glance over my shoulder into what I knew was a solid wall.

"What's wrong?" Vesija asked.

"Not–– A lot, but we need to keep going. They, or someone at least, knows we are here."

Vesija nodded with uncertainty plastered in every line of his face. He seemed older than only a few weeks before, yet much too inexperienced for this sort of work. The man took my hand. "Neru, do you know what you will do?"

"No. Since the crash, I've assumed that the Lady had a plan for me. But now she remains silent."

"Is she... dead? Gone? Wiped out?"

"No, I do feel her presence, though it's distant. However, to your first question..." I took a deep breath. "I shall do what's necessary to end this."

"If anything stops you, promise me––" His hand squeezed mine tight. "̣–– that you won't risk yourself further."

I bit down the impulse to indulge in poignant fatalism. "Alright. I promise, if you also do so."

He smiled. "I do."

The twisted edifices and megalithic debris offered generous cover, and forced us to advance painfully slowly. Any corner or yawning hole in a wall could hold a twitchy trigger finger, especially now that the sound of the fighting had picked up again. My eyes bounced around rapidly enough to start making me sick, and Vesija's furtive steps right behind me felt loud like the trampling of a cargo wagon.

It would have helped had I known the terrain. Vesija was little help, as he had never combed through these uninhabited ruins. To my frustration, because an oddly domed structure with collapsed entrances blocked my intended route towards our presumed destination, we'd have to approach from an open alley.

I motioned Vesija to remain a few paces back and went to the corner with a piece of loose masonry in my hand. With the implement, I banged the wall behind the corner and waited.

Nothing shot at my exposed hand. I dropped the rock and waved. After a moment, I sheathed my gun, but just as I was about to step into the open, a massive hand landed on my shoulder.

"I'll go first", Vesija said. "They should recognise me."

"And if they shoot, I might survive."

The physician disarmed my defiance with a patient glare. I sighed. "Alright. Do keep your hands visible."

I held my breath, as the man walked to the alley. Nothing indicated he was shot. Instead, he gestured me to follow, and we sprinted the long alley to a fang-like spire. From a hole broken from the wall poked ––in a show of abhorrent amateurism–– a rifle barrel, but the huge man wielding the weapon had turned his head over his shoulder towards the sounds of the fighting. Whoever he was, the Iwunian watchman was no professional. He met us at the top of the circling stairs, and after a short discussion in Iwunish completely ignoring me, the man came to guide us to the makeshift interior lines of the rebels.

The hail of grapeshot grew ever louder, overpowering even the earthshaking thumps deep below us.

"How many legs does the Pylon have?" I asked.

Vesija perked from thoughts that had sent his gaze into the distance. "What?"

"It must be more than four. This rhythm is no ordinary trot."

He gave me an odd faint smile. "If the Pylon is anything like the eremiliths, it doesn't have separate legs, but a sort of segmented gastropod."

Our guide huffed to silence us. "We'll be there soon." He stopped at a suspiciously well-preserved ceramic door and spoke a nonsense password that I could never have pronounced anywhere near correctly. The door opened, not into a proper room, but to the blasted remains of an atrium, with the skeletal support structure open to a circular courtyard.

Whatever rubble was left of the surrounding walls served as barricades for the rebels. In the sighs of respite between rippling caress of artillery blasts, the men and women of Narshur defied death by lifting themselves over the rampart to take a shot at the distant enemy. We had arrived only moments before this position would be overrun, if that was the aim of the Jaan marksmen. Without the unartistic grime, the scene might have served in a grand national painting to commemorate the spirit of futile heroism. The sort of artwork our national galleries loved to showcase, as long as it was stolen from our subjects.

"There." Our guide pointed in the middle of the courtyard, were rose a shrine with thick walls of solid stone. He waved at another rebel and turned on his heels.

Vesija's face set in a cold frown, and he strode onwards. I wanted to press his shoulders down so he'd avoid shrapnel, but instead of embarrassing the man in front of his countrymen, I contented myself to hurry after him. We entered into the stench of stale incense and fresh gore.

Though the sacred imagery on the shrine's walls must have been ages newer than the stone itself, only haphazard blotches of wet crimson enlivened the dance of the washed-out saints on the cracked plaster.

What struck my eye first was the amount of the wounded. Not in shock of the amount suffering on display, but from a callous surprise about the amount of rebel combatants present. Many of them must have come before the storm.

A distraught shrine maiden scurried between the benches serving as beds for the fallen. Vesija hesitated for one missed step, but continued past the shaking woman.

Teuna slouched on a bench, groaning orders to a group of men. She noticed Vesija and told the others to leave.

"Well, you two took your time", she grunted through gritted teeth. Blood seeped through the thick bandages surrounding her thigh.

"That wound needs treatment this instant", Vesija said and knelt in front of the woman.

"I've had worse", she said in a tone full of suppressed agony.

"New dressings won't be enough", Vesija said. "What caused this?"

"What do you think?" Teuna tried to shoo the physician away, but he didn't budge from his examination. She groaned and turned her gaze to me. "Do you have a plan, Jaan doll?"

"No––" My voice boomed with authority not suited for it. "Yes. Your forces shall commit to a distraction that allows this woman to reach the Tower."

Teuna frowned but nodded.

I coughed mucus from my now sore throat. 'Now you are here.'

'Focus', the Lady commanded. 'Closer to the Tower I can dedicate the bandwidth to babysit you.'

Vesija stood up. "Your leg requires surgery as soon as possible, preferably right now."

Teuna scoffed. "There's no time for stitches. Tie a proper tourniquet, brace the leg and mix me a cocktail that gets me up and limping."

"Absolutely out of question. You'll lose the leg that way."

"Didn't you hear the mouthpiece of the ancestors? We are to be an 'distraction'. I can't order my comrades to die if I myself cower here."

Vesija straightened his frame as if bristling his fur, but didn't gainsay the steppe woman.

While the physician patched the rebel leader with the meagre medical supplies available, I stood out of the way listening to the cannonade. The Iwunians gave me sour looks, but their ire lacked fire. Whatever they had believed off the world this morning applied no more. Only motivation left to them was their hatred of the Jaan, my kind.

The disdain of these Iwunian against me was justified. I wasn't on their side, even though I had seen that beast glinting in Motsa's eyes.

It was better not to start questioning my aims, now that I had finally decided to act.

"They aren't human, you know."

The croak startled me. I spun on my heels to face a ragged man huddled in a corner. The bandage-leeches covered most of his head, leaving his features indecipherable.

"Your kinsmen", he continued. "They aren't human."

"Are you implying I'm neither?" My voice brimmed with involuntarily defensive attitude.

"I can't say about you. But what they are... have become, is much worse than you."

"How so? Inhuman in what way?"

"One of them got shot, right in the belly. I saw it. He fell, but got up, as if nothing."

"He was wearing armour."

"No..." The man let out a wheezy frustrated breath. "The needle went straight through. Yet that Jaan monster still managed to kill my friend and retreat."

It was trauma then. I certainly lacked the frame of mind and expertise to help with that. When the silence between us grew too much to bear, I strode away to Vesija and his patient.

Once the makeshift brace of wagon chitin was in place, Teuna hauled herself up. The careful dosage of sedatives weren't enough to stop her from grimacing.

The Lady appropriated my lips and commanded: "Give her your pistol."

The Iwunian woman immediately reached for the gun, but paused. "It's locked to my blood."

"No matter. Hand it to me." I took the weapon. It perked in my grip like a vicious animal. My instinct was to throw it away before it bit me with venomous fangs, but instead my hand squeezed the stock until the gun let a squishy shifting sound and fell still. My gown took it into its folds without complaint.

'I thought you might need that.' Though the Lady didn't use words directly, it was obvious her tone brimmed with self-satisfied glee.

'Thanks. I've wanted to try this.'

Teuna went through the tentative plan to defeat the Jaan detachment, though it was plainly obvious that without a miracle, the best the Iwunians might accomplish was to force the foreigners into reserve positions.

Once outside I pulled Vesija aside and glanced to make sure we weren't overheard. "You should stay here."

The man stared at me for moment. "No––"

"Don't. You well know that the people here need a physician. And..." I tried to smile. "No doubt you can do only so much to help with Motsa. I fear it shall be Jaan work."

He nodded. "I don't want to let you go."

"Neither do I you." I squeezed his hand. "But if I don't have to worry about you, we both have higher chance not to lose the other. Let's be honest; your training suits a camp hospital better than a gun duel."

"This won't be a final farewell." Vesija's tone was a command trying to compel reality itself.

"No. I promise that."

We embraced long enough for it to embarrassing, yet in retrospect our touch lasted all too brief an instant.