A flock of grabber lizards plunged out of the circling storm wall and flew into a narrow core of clear air. They spun and dove, the leaders twisting back on the others to remain in the calm air away from the storm of poison air, blowing sand and ice. A few large surviving crackle lizards followed the small lizards, and they struggled out of the storm with their long, leathery wings folding and twisting until they were able to pull free into the calm. The lizards glided and came to rest on the small patch of desert floor that had become a smear of ice melt on sand.

  Behind the lizards, three clockwork mounts materialized from the storm wall and plodded with a slow mechanical rhythm into the clearing. The rider’s cloaks settled around them. Once the following packhorse was clear of the storm, the riders halted. The horses' surfaces sparkled where frost had formed between their metal plates. The riders relaxed and stretched in their saddles.

  All three riders wore masks that extended up into their helmet visors. Reaching up with a black gauntlet, the lead man, a big man, tore his mask away and inhaled. The other two riders watched him. After a pause, he turned and nodded, and they pulled away their masks and dropped them into the muck at the horses’ feet.

  The men wore identical uniforms. They unclipped their long, heavy riding cloaks and draped them behind their saddles to drip with snow and ice. Underneath their cloaks was leather brigandine armour with short capes.

  The big man dismounted and began to beat the slurry of sand and ice away from the folds in his armour. He wore a folding lance slung across his back. The other riders also dismounted. One was a small, slight man who wore a helm with one command ridge. He studied a small orb that glowed with a faint white light. He wore a light flintlock pistol and a sabre. His tall boots had been newly made of fine leather. The man who had been leading the pack horse was stocky in battle-worn armour with a heavy winch crossbow on his back. The horses settled, and their necks drooped. The hum of sound from the clockwork gearing lowered to a deeper register as the mechanics wound down.

  “Will it last, Watcher?” the stocky man asked in a gruff voice. The lead man looked up and nodded. These two were older men—old enough to have been fathers to the smaller man with the orb, who now spoke with a chastising tone.

  “Warrant. I must insist that you address that man by his rank. He is a lancer, is he not?” The officer’s voice was young, so light, but he also insisted on speaking in an affected, pious tone of the east city. To the old warrant, it always sounded like the kid was whining.

  The Warrant dipped his head. “Of course he is, Sir.”

  “I thought so. I did quite well in my component of ‘military structure,’ Warrant.” The officer hadn’t lifted his eyes away from the orb’s surface. He had insisted that it’s surface of twists and ebbs was a miniature copy of the storm around them. “Actually, I’ve done quite well in all of my component studies as an Optio.”

  The young man glanced up and around them, taking in the cloud wall as it boiled and rumbled around them. “The sound is quiet, muffled, somehow distant, here in this clearing. Not nearly as loud as one would expect while standing in the eye of a storm.”

  “Your first time taking shelter in an eye, Sir?”

  “Are you implying that I’m underqualified to lead a long-range patrol, Warrant?”

  “Not at all Sir. I just don’t see having much opportunity to study something like this back at the training academy. At least not quite first hand anyway, Sir. And you’ve led us quite far and gone, so really, our only hope is that thing in your hand, so, as to have brought that up, are you seeing anything, Sir? In the crystal ball that might be helpful?” the warrant asked.

  “Now Warrant! Your terminology makes you sound absolutely ancient. As I have said before, it is an optical sensor! We are not old sooth-seer women out here following crystal balls, tea leaves and moon signs, are we?”

  “The crystal looks…, dim, Sir, is all.”

  “Yes, yes, you’re right in that Warrant. But not to worry. I am well trained in the Councillors' teachings. And now, right away, if you will be so kind, one of the metal ribbons will fix it up. We need to reestablish contact so I can get an updated storm map.”

  “Of course, Sir,” the warrant said as he went to his mount and opened a saddlebag.

  “Just make sure it is staked properly. This is quite the blowup, and we don’t want to have it torn away and lost.”

  “Of course, Sir. Quite right, Sir.”

  Not taking his gaze off the orb, the young man nodded absentmindedly at the warrant’s reply.

  The warrant took a fine metal spool from his saddlebag and, walking clear of the horses, plunged it into the sand with a crossbow bolt. The young officer walked away with his orb to the center of the clearing. The collection of flying lizards hopped away from him, making way.

  “Watch those crackles, Sir. They are probably hungry.”

  The officer mumbled something in reply, his head down over the orb.

  The Warrant spoke quietly to the big man, “How long will this eye keep before it completely collapses in on us?”

  The big man gazed straight up above them and studied the twisting column of clear air. He gave a sour look and made some quick gestures with his hand.

  “Ah, I see. Long enough to get warm, purify some water, eat…, and then die. Well, at least I won’t die hungry. A bad death that, to die hungry. And damn, I’m hungry. So, it's not so bad. I want to say thanks for coming along and thanks for leading us into this clearing. If that piece of crap of his doesn’t show us a way out…”

  The big man gave a grunt and flicked a few more signals.

  “No. There are no more rebreathers. That storm air was almost straight poison, so we’ve gone through what we had much too fast. Unless the air changes, and I doubt that very much, we are away too far and gone to ever return without any rebreather masks.”

  The big man gave a sad nod.

  “Sorry for bringing you in, Watcher, but I thought your weather sense would help us avoid exactly what this young zealot has led us into. Didn’t like the look of him as soon as he rode into camp last week. All full of his councillor’s bull shit. I should have followed him out for a piss one night and that would have been the last of him. We could have avoided this mess we're in now. I really am sorry, Watcher.”

  The big man looked up, made a series of hand signals and shook his head disparagingly.

  “Yes. They have been growing stronger for some time now, making it more difficult for you to find your way around them. Ever since they have been pulling the towers down, the world’s edge has been closing in.”

  “Quit chatting, Warrant, and deploy that ribbon!” The Optio called. “I’m sure an update on the storm would be in all our interests, would it not!”

  The warrant tilted his head and whispered, “At least we’ll be taking him with us,” and then loudly said, “Of course, Sir. Sorry. Deploying the ribbon now.”

  “Of course, Warrant. Please show some haste.”

  The Warrant stooped to the spool and tugged free a loose end of metal ribbon and fixed that to the fletching of a loaded crossbow bolt. Making sure the ribbon would run free and not catch his weapon or armour, he fired into the sky. The bolt streaked off into the clouds, trailing a metal ribbon that gave off an eerie howl in the wind. The spool danced and cavorted as it spun in a blur until it snapped to a stop, the wire taught like a fishing line - a tight silver thread that disappeared into the cloud.

  The warrant lifted a cupped hand to his brow and studied the line, “It’s working, Sir?”

  “Yes Warrant. The signal strength is increasing.” The young man said as he studied the orb. “What a spectacular mind our great leader has to be able to unlock these technologies for us.” He continued, “It is my great ambition to work directly under him one day. Once I prove my worth to him, I intend to apply for transfer into the new Tech Officer Corps he formed. They will study the secrets of the towers. He is only taking the brightest minds, of course, Warrant. That’s why my studies are so important to me.”

  “Of course, Sir. Learning practical applications are also important.” He replied, glancing again at their depleted masks lying in the muck.

  “Please start the fire, Warrant. I don’t know what all this dallying is about. I’m out of fresh water. We need the purification equipment set up. Get that Lancer on the cauldron and shovel. We might as well be comfortable. I think we’re going to be here for a while. It seems the update is not coming through very quickly.”

  “We could be out of range, Sir. We have come a long way. Quite a long way, actually. Or the storm could be causing a problem.”

  “I’ve chastised you about your negativity already, Warrant. If you keep this up, I’ll have to put it into your personal record once we return.”

  “Yes, Sir. I don’t have much worry about that, Sir. But we will get that cauldron set up, won’t we, Lancer? At least we’ll get some grub into us.”

  “Now that’s the spirit Warrant! It’s good to see one who wants to improve themselves.”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  The lancer stood, shaking his head at the warrant, and went to the pack horse, unlashed a large cauldron, and lowered it to the ground with a grunt. Beside it, he dropped a shovel and a collection of steel rods. He lugged the cauldron to where the young officer sat, had the tripod built quickly, and began shovelling the mix of ground melt and sand out of the largest puddles into the cauldron. While he did this, the warrant broke open two flares, dropped them underneath the cauldron, hauled the purifier from the pack horse and laid it into the cauldron.

  The warrant glanced to Watcher as they both settled down by the warmth of the fire. “I do want to ensure that you now believe we have finally come far enough on this patrol.” The warrant said.

  “Yes Warrant. Time to turn back now. I think we have learned everything we can.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  The Optio was frowning at the orb. He gave it a little shake of disappointment and then glanced over at the silver ribbon of metal that danced and twisted away into the storm wall, “… but it seems I’m not getting a good map update. It’s really not showing any forecasted resolution to this storm around us.”

  Another glance between the two older men. “We don’t need your crystal ball to tell us this storm will not let up anytime soon. Watcher here says you’ve led us beyond the barrier of the World’s Edge.”

  “As I have already said, an optical orb or sensor is the preferred educated terminology, and that man is a Lancer. Best to keep the ranks separate, Warrant. We don’t do names in The People’s Army.”

  “None of this matters. We are out of med kits. And do you know why?”

  “What exactly do you want information on, Warrant? Why are we out of med kits? Or why you think none of it matters? That negativity again. If you expect me to properly deal with inquiries, then they must be asked clearly and concisely.”

  “Why we call him Watcher, Sir, because he watched. He always watched…” The big man rose and left the fire. “He’s always watched for danger. He kept us safe. And he’s bothered now.”

  “Please humour me, Warrant. I might as well ask you to do so because, based on your tone, I feel that I’m going to hear this lecture anyway, so I might as well pretend that I’ve requested it.”

  “A village found us two little boys. We were from a Wayfarer tribe set on by Reavers, and by the time the villagers saw the smoke and came, only two of us were left. They took us in. A village not much more than a jumble of rock in a sheltered crevasse. We grew as brothers, Watcher and I, and Watcher never spoke. But he watched. He doesn’t have the red eye, but we always thought he was a seer. He could only see one thing, though: weather, and he was far-sighted in that. He’s strong, thoughtful, considerate, tougher than most, and has a way of feeling the weather, and we have always been companions. I have great respect for Watcher. I asked him to come with me on this patrol when you made it clear what you intended. His help was supposed to give us a better chance of returning… But he says this storm won’t end because the World’s Edge is moving in, and you have led us out past it. Nothing is out here but us and death. Soon the only thing standing here will be those damn horses. A shame that. They’re a rare thing now-”

  “Hello there at the fire!” a voice called out of the storm. The warrant and Optio bolted to their feet. The Optio tucked the orb away and drew his pistol.

  “Seems you have been interrupted, Warrant. Please do go on. You were at the part about the only things out here being us and death.

  “Friend or Foe?” the warrant called back.

  “Friend. Myself. Only one and my package. No need to be alarmed. I saw your fire. I have been sent to deliver a package from the Pirate King. May I come closer?”

  “Advance one to be recognized!” The warrant responded.

  “Ok. Coming in slow. It’s only me. Only one. And my package.” They watched as a shadow of a shape with raised hands began to materialize out of the storm.

  The young officer fired his pistol.

  The Warrant knocked the gun away, but he was too late. The figure twisted, staggered and remained upright.

  “Warrant!” the young man hissed, “I’ll have you know it is unlawful to strike an officer!”

  “Do not fire!” The gruff voice called as it put its hands back in the air. “I have a package for the Councillor from the Pirate King! No more shooting!”

  “There will be no more firing!” The warrant scowled at his officer.

  The shape continued walking. The big lancer backed away as the shape approached.

  “Lancer, ready your charge point.” After a subtle nod from the warrant, Watcher drew the top half of the heavy lance from this back scabbard and twisted the hilt to charge it.

  The man approaching them was tall and thin; broad shoulders over an emaciated body. He was covered in hide wrappings. Even his face was swaddled. As he neared, the old soldier could see where the ball had pierced his shoulder; green ichor blood ran there. The Warrant searched for the eyes in the bandages for a hint of skin and found what he expected. Few things could walk out of a poison storm. The man reached under his hood to pull down the scarf to reveal a scaled hide, cavernous eye sockets set with slit pupil eyes and a mouth with tusks.

  “A lizard man.” He said reflexively.

  “Yes. I am. Now, no sudden movements, I’m just going to unshoulder my pack…, OK?” He said to the Warrant, who assented with a nod.” The lizard’s voice came out as a gravel-choked-off sound.

  From his back he swung a tall wicker pack and placed it on the sand. “First off, you should be needing…” not removing his eyes from the men or their weapons, he slowly lifted the basket lid and took out a handful of flat tec packages, “these?”

  “Those are rebreather masks. The old med pack style found in vaults.” The Warrant said.

  “Four. The old type, yes. But they will work fine. With the ones you have left, there should be more than enough to get you all back south out of this maelstrom. You have come long past the world’s edge.”

  “We don’t have any left,” the warrant said.

  “If you are lost, I suggest you head straight south once those mounts have been recharged. You might make it if you’re all fit enough and don’t stop riding. But you’d be dead without these.” He tossed the futuristic packages on the ground at the Optio’s feet.

  “This is greatly appreciated. We thank you.” Said the Warrant with evident relief.

  “Ah, don’t thank me. You owe your thanks to the one who sent me. The Pirate King.”

  “But these are incredibly expensive.”

  The lizard man chuckled, “Don’t worry,” He said. “I’ll be sure to up my delivery cost. He will reimburse me.”

  “We will have clean water soon. You could drink and join our fire. Warm yourself. It is cold here.”

  “No, thank you. This form has entered its hibernation phase. It would be bad for me to take on warmth or sustenance at this time. And regardless, I must return. But thank you otherwise, Warrant.”

  “You are obstinate and a fool. In no way are we lost.” The optio seemed to have found his voice, and it was an angry one.

  “Right then,” The lizard man replied, “Not lost. You can still keep the rebreathers.”

  “We will keep them along with everything else. You are not leaving. I claim you for service to The People’s Army.” The Optio said.

  “I am currently under the service of the Pirate King.”

  “Sir. This is not-”

  “You will hold your tongue, Warrant. The Pirate King is a myth. As I said, you will stay with us, return to our camp, and be offered the opportunity to serve The People.”

  The lizard man stopped looking at the young man once he began his tirade and, instead, turned to continue speaking to the Warrant. He acted as if the young officer wasn’t even there.

  “Now, this package, from the Pirate King himself…” He reached into the basket, moved the rags, lifted a small girl from inside and set her on the ground. She wore a rough spun smock dress that left her arms and feet bare. She stood in the melting ice and snow and stared up at the dark-clad soldiers.

  The men stared back at her in amazement. Her long, black hair seemed to be arranged in thick, loose coils. Her skin was grey, and her eyes and nose were sharp over an angled jaw. A metal lock bound her wrists.

  “The package. A from the Pirate King to the Councillor. The Councillor has written him extensively in the past asking for any beasts that could be caught and provided for research.” The man handed a smooth brown stone to the Warrant, who looked at it quizzically.

  “She is wearing a smart lock with a disguised key. Just touch the stone to the handcuffs, and they will bind or unbind. Be sure to keep that key a secret. And don’t dare free her cuffs unless she is in a sturdy cage.”

  “I’ll take it.” The Optio plucked up the stone.

  “And your title, Sir?”

  “Why?”

  “For the Pirate King. I will report who I delivered his package to, so they may be held accountable for debt and I may also get my pay for service.”

  “Optio assigned to the fifth cohort of the north.”

  “Very good. Now, she could use some water. Neither of us has had a sip for weeks. She can drink the brackish, but the clean tastes much nicer.” He looked down at the girl and gave her head a gentle rub. “Now you be good!” He said, giving her a little pat. She looked up at him with a scowl.

  “What are we to do with her?” The Warrant asked.

  “She is to be used as a Badger.” The lizard replied. “You are not to kill her outright. The Councillor has been requesting beasts for his men to train against. This is one of those.”

  “Very well. You will return with us.” The Optio said as the lizard man turned to walk away.

  “I emphasize for you the Pirate King insists that she not be killed or dissected,” the lizard man said as he walked away. “There is a written agreement that she is to be enslaved as a Badger to your troops. Be very careful with her. She is far more dangerous than she looks.”

  The lizard man continued walking towards the storm wall.

  “You do not dictate to the Optio of the black corps!” the young man yelled. “We do what we want! And you will halt right where you are, or you will be fired upon!”

  The lizard man turned, raised his hands in a compliant gesture, and continued walking backwards towards out of the clearing and into the storm. “From the Pirate King!” He called. “Return to your camp with those med kits I gave you, and contact the Councillor. You will see it is all in order!”

  The optio spoke with menace to the men beside him, “damn it, Warrant. Why have you failed to fire? He is not permitted to leave!”

  “He is acting on behalf of the Pirate King. This would give him status as a protected envoy. He could not be enslaved. Also, he is a lizard man, and there are only three of us. You are too young. I doubt you have ever seen one of those things move in battle. They walk through men as if they were children for slaughter.”

  “I don’t care if he’s the damn Pirate King himself. You will put a bolt into him, now, or I’ll have you whipped!”

  The Warrant pulled the heavy crossbow from his back, notched a bolt, raised, and fired. It may have been the swirling air currents, or it may have been that the shot was pulled, but either way, as the bolt flashed toward the beast at the last moment, it lifted just a touch. The lizard's hand went up and the bolt pierced it before it could pierce his shoulder.

  He came back towards the men, not easy and friendly this time, but with strides of anger and purpose. He moved quickly, quicker than a man. His movement was now filled with an unnatural strength, a demon quickness far too fast and fluid. He moved like a nightmare.

  As he drew up close in front of the men, the optio yelled, “Lancer!” The big man plunged forward with the charged lance. The lizard man grasped and stopped it with his good hand. The blue arc charge traced across his arm and up his shoulder for a moment before he crushed the lance tip and dropped it into the sand.

  The optio drew his sabre, and the lizard man paused to watch what he would do with it. The optio thrust it at his midsection, point first. The lizard grabbed and held the bare blade with his wounded hand, the crossbow barb protruding from the back of it. The Optio struggled and tried to free the sabre, but the beast held it fast and unmoving.

  “What you have brought us is a gargoyle cub!” The Optio exclaimed as he struggled with his sword, “To be exterminated on sight!” He grunted and twisted, and the lizard man stood still, unmoving, and held the blade in a fist. “It will be killed, and you will be enslaved. That is the proper procedure.”

  The lizard man leaned in, his face and his tusks close to the young man. “If she were to be killed, the Pirate King would have done it himself. Things such as her are very rare now, and we were told to deliver it alive as a Badger to your troops. If you break this deal with the Pirate King, I will hunt all three of you down and pull your guts out while you watch. Now. Do we have a deal?”

  The officer tried one more time to wrench his sword blade from the lizard man’s grip, paused, and then let go of his sword hilt. The lizard man let it drop to the sand, and with his free hand, pushed the barb and shaft through his hand and let that drop to the sand. The young officer watched as the green blood stopped flowing from the hand wound, and the skin slowly began to creep into the wound, closing it.

  The optio nodded.