With a roar that shook the canopy, the treekrake’s snapping, four-part beak heaved itself into view over the starboard side. Threl hit the deck, weapon raised and—heartbeats later—readied. Mika fell back, bracing herself against the cabin’s outer wall as four more tentacles exploded from the leaves and arched overhead, their shadows banding across the ship.

There was a deafening series of blasts as Threl and several of the orcs shot at the thing, aiming mostly for the cross-pupiled eye that was wider than they were tall.

Ixos. I have to find Ixos.

He was her first thought. Her only thought. Though what she would do when she found him, she had no idea.

Then the monster’s many tentacles tightened around the ship, and Mika slid wildly sideways as all across its length the vessel splintered and cracked, collapsing in upon itself. Through the ringing in her ears, she could only just hear the shouts and bellowing of the orcs, and among them…a distinctive cry from somewhere just out of sight.

Flinging her body forward, Mika entangled herself in the netting of the walkway rail. Keeping her claws always snared in the rope, she began slowly to make her way towards the stair as the ship shattered around her. Overhead, two blade-winged creatures swooped into view. And from places out of sight, the voices of Singers rose louder to join the fray.

As their mounts approached, the princes charged forth below, foreheads flashing orange and moving remarkably fast as they leapt over tentacles and rends in the ship with equal ease…making their way for the stern. Then the shadow of a krake-branch was upon them, crashing down just as the voice of a Singer rose higher, frantic and powerful. Vines whipped up from the trees below to coil themselves about the barky tentacle, holding it back just long enough for the orcs to be out of its path before the vines snapped and the thing crashed down.

Bucking beneath the princes’ boots, the planks gave momentum to their simultaneous running leap. But their mounts adjusted, tilting and falling back slightly just as the orcs made impact, clinging to the leathery protrusions of their saddles’ handleholds as they slung their legs through the stirrups in one fluid motion. The beasts released their echoing call as, catching an updraft, they swept suddenly skyward. The princes pulled their weapons from their backs just as Mika lost sight of them.

And all the while, there were weapon-blasts as orcs and elf alike shot at the beast, until Mika was certain she’d never hear anything else again.

Reaching the bottom of the stair at last, her piece of ship tipped wildly again in the opposite direction, her legs now dangling beneath her as she clung to the netting. Frantically, she hummed for Ixos…hoping he was close enough.

And in the next heartbeat, lightning flashed—striking so close she could almost smell the sudden acrid burn of whichever tree it blackened.

For a moment it was emblazoned across her vision, and as its thunder growled through her veins she was transported back in time, earlier that day, to her first taste of that beautiful sight.

And then to what came after it.

And what came after that.

Everything she’d been fighting not to think about flooded her mind. She hummed again, tears streaming down her face as her voice rose suddenly into song. There was a crash from somewhere out of sight, and then Ixos was whirring up beneath her. His sigils bathed her in violet light, newly charged and vibrant. But she was still exhausted, and it was all she could do to slow Ixos’s descent beneath her as the two of them plunged through the canopy, pieces of skyship raining down around them.

To all sides of her, orcs leapt from the wreckage into the branches and vines or rappelled down by ropes hooked into the trees. Others weren’t so lucky or skilled, falling from the breaking vessel to drop past, their muffled screams coming to an abrupt stop below. Overhead, more thunder growled and the battle continued, the remaining crew shooting from the trees as the princes attacked from the sky. The treekrake roared and whipped its tentacles, curling one of them downward to catch a falling orc before flinging him up into its hateful beak.

Then she and Ixos hit the ground, their fall cushioned by a giant lichen bush. What remained of its soft branches closed overhead, and for several moments Mika just crouched there, draped over Ixos and breathing hard. She tried to listen to her new surroundings through the ringing in her ears, but everything was distorted. Muffled. Her mind raced.

What do I do? Should I take this chance to escape? Run?

No, replied the other, oft-shunned part of herself. Don’t be stupid. You have nowhere to go, and the orcs are the only reason you aren’t dead yet.

So she stayed in the bush, hiding and waiting for the chaos to end. There was nothing she could do, after all. She hadn’t the energy to shoot any more bolts, and even if she did—she doubted if the treekrake would even feel them. As she watched through the lichen branches, more pieces of ship and another orc crashed to the forest floor. There was more screaming and blasts from above, and then a familiar form rappelled by tree-vine into sight.

Threl peered frantically around, head-markings flashing orange as he hissed something Mika couldn’t quite make out but which sounded like “shit shit shit shit shit shit.”

Then his gazed fixed in her direction and his nostrils flared. Dashing forth, he lunged through the lichen bush, grabbing her by the armpits as he hoisted her up through the greenery.

“Don’t grab!” She trilled.

“Got you,” breathed Threl.

Mika hissed, ears flattening against her hair.

“I wasn’t trying to run!”

But he ignored her, shifting her weight to brace her against his left hip as he rummaged around in the bush for Ixos. Then, with her in one arm and her construct in the other, he dashed off through the undergrowth. Another shout issued from above. A barrage of weapons-fire. A shrieking roar. Skidding to a stop under the arc of a massive tree root, Threl whipped around to watch, dropping Ixos at his side but holding fast to Mika.

There was a loud crunch from the canopy and then a series of slightly smaller ones. Branches and bits of ship rained down over the spot from which the pair had just fled, and immediately after them crashed the treekrake. Its tentacles tangled in the branches around it as it fell so that it came to a stop half-dangling, half crumpled on the forest floor. Dripping green blood.

Mika winced as Threl began to whoop. And from the trees all around them, the surviving orcs echoed his call. Then there was a series of softened thuds as all crew members still aloft dropped by vine and rope to the ground.

“Where…where are the princes?” wondered Mika as the last of the orcs touched down, a worry she couldn’t quite understand clutching at her chest. “They didn’t get hurt, did they?”

Threl barked a laugh. “Oh gods and trees, no. With the krake finished they’ll be on their way to the nearest port tower to order a SalRes.”

“What’s a—oof!”

Not listening to her at all, Threl scooped Ixos back up and scrambled out of the root-nook with his arm still curled about her waist. Without a single order being called, the crew set to work. Three of them gathered bodies, one of them belonging to Captain Rhast. Another tended the injured…which included Bosarg, who’d lost a wooden leg in the fray and broken the thigh it was attached to. Still more orcs gathered what remained of the ship’s cargo and valuables—most particularly tapestries—roping them together into parcels.

Huffing with frustration as he watched, Threl finally pulled a silvery loop of rope from his belt and tied it about Mika’s waist so fast he’d finished before she could think to protest. Then, knotting it to a branch well of out reach, he winked at her.

“I’m gonna lend a hand. Don’t go anywhere!” Then, still clutching Ixos to one side, he bounded off to join the recovery efforts.

Cursing after him, Mika considered the rope. She had no wish to attempt escape, but she didn’t like the idea of being tied up should anything hungry come along, either. But the rope wasn’t made of any material she recognized. It was at once metallic and almost fleshlike, though the knife she kept in her waist bag didn’t so much as scratch it. The knot was impossible too, expertly tied and doubled back upon itself so that it ended well out of reach, fixed around the branch above.

She hissed in frustration. But just as she had given up on her attempts to cut through the rope, the crew finished with their work. She looked over to find packed goods and bodies alike loaded onto stretchers made of the ship’s remains and hefted up from the ground, one for every two orcs. Threl dashed back over to untie and scoop her up again, and then they were on the march…through tangled tunnels of roots and ferns, in a direction Mika thought was vaguely westward.

Creatures moved in the darkness around them, but none so big or so bold as to attack. They’d not gone far at all when the convoy came to a slow stop in what passed for a clearing in the Rooted Sea. No sky showed through the dense canopy overhead, but there was a slightly larger-than-usual space between the tree trunks. At its heart lay the massive, prone body of an amagara. The hunt, apparently, had been successful.

The calls of frogs, owls and other creatures sang out in the night. And again, the orcs acted without orders, unloading their valuables at the edge of the clearing before setting the wood-plank stretchers up in a circle all about them, each one at an angle facing outward and propped up by fallen branches and other bits of wreckage.

With the perimeter established, half the crew then set about the bloody task of butchering the fallen beast. This time Threl didn’t bother tying her up when he skipped off to assist the others, though the rope was still knotted tight about her waist, its lead dragging behind her like a tail. Most of the rest of the crew took position along the improvised wall, standing guard with their weapons in-hand. The few who weren’t on butcher or guard-duty set to work building something out of shipwreck and sticks. Unsure of what to do with herself, Mika settled into a particularly soft mound of moss to watch, focusing all of her attention on their task.

She didn’t realize what the construction was until they began to stack the bodies upon it. And that sight—orc laid over orc, all brought together in death—made her think again of those things. Of the terrified eyes and screaming mouths of her people. Her stomach churned, her body curled in on itself, and the next thing she knew she was heaving into the moss, her lips dripping with bile. When she was done, she dragged herself off to an adequately distant patch of moss and collapsed on her side, body quivering with strain and exhaustion and overwhelm. Blearily she let her gaze drift up to the trees, and at some point, she slipped into unconsciousness.

When she came to again, the amagara had been reduced to little more than bones, most of its meat portioned off in leaf-wrapped parcels. But there was a pile left of choice slabs and organs which the orcs heaped onto a piece of ship-siding and carried off to leave at the other side of the wall. One pair had taken the amagara’s skull aside and now hunched over it, cleaning away what remained of its flesh. Another group arranged the rest of the creature’s skeleton into a sort of spiraling pyramid of carnage that was at once disgusting and quite remarkable to behold. Beneath this they stacked more of the ship’s remains, along with bundles of lichen and slices of fat. Then, putting a horn to his lips, one of the largest of the orc guards unleashed a bellowing call into the night.

As Mika sat up, pushing her goggles back and rubbing at her eyes, Threl bounced up to her side.

“Have a nice nap?”

She groaned. “What’s going on?”

“Er, lots of things. But my favorite part is coming up.”

Mika blinked up at him, aghast.

“How often does this happen?”

But of course, he wasn’t paying attention—already pointing excitedly into the forest as something emerged from the trees, its every footstep quaking the ground. And then it broke through the leaves and fronds and pine needles…a terrible, beautiful monster. Two-legged with a pair of small forearms, the beast stood at least seven orcs high. It panted, jaws hanging open to reveal rows of dagger-sharp teeth. Hornlike protrusions jutted out over its eyes, and a ridge of teal feathers ran down its neck and back.

Its nostrils flared as it stomped its way through the brush, coming to a stop a few orc’s paces from the meat at the other side of the wall. It quirked its head sideways, examining them all over their makeshift barrier with one large yellow eye. Then, huffing, it dipped its head to feed. A heartbeat later, Threl and the orcs began, quietly, to sing. Mika couldn’t understand the words, but they dripped with reverence nonetheless. They didn’t stop until the beast had finished and, with one more inquisitive look their way, stomped back off into the deeps.

“Wh—what…was that all about?” stammered Mika, snapping her jaw into place.

Threl grinned. “A Lord and Keeper of the Forest. If we take her meat or sleep in her territory, we make an offering. Always.”

And then—with surprising ease, considering how damp everything was—the orcs lit both their pyres, and the night air filled with smoke and the scent of searing orcflesh. Mika dragged her goggles back down to find that all forehead markings in sight had turned a pleasant shade of leaf-green.

“Oh.” She scrunched her nose in thought. “Are they sending another ship for us?” she asked a few heartbeats later, snatching Threl’s sleeve to keep his attention.

“Mhm, that’s what I said,” answered Threl. “Won’t be here for hours, though.”

“How many hours?”

Threl only shrugged, pulling his arm from her grip in the same movement.

At first she just let him go, watching as he and those of the crew not standing guard closed in around the two fires, passing a few flasks about as they laughed and sang in low, mountain-deep voices. But then she noticed they were doing more than that, and had set hunks of amagara meat to roasting on the same fire they’d blazed beneath its bones.

It smelled incredible. Fatty and salty and everything Mika hadn’t realized until that moment that she craved. But as the scent intensified beyond the point of resistance and she stood to go and ask for some, the markings of the orcs who tended the meat began, gradually, to shift from green to blue. She stopped in her tracks to watch as, closing his eyes and inhaling deep of the scent of meat, one of the other orcs’ markings flared suddenly and intensely cerulean.

She took a stumbling step backward. As the aroma spread amongst the orcs and the food was passed around, all their markings turned blue. Their great jaws gnashed at meat and bone alike, making short work of it. And when an orc had had his fill, the cerulean faded and became green once more.