It was two more days until they finally left the Red Flats. Before then, the soldiers from Srung left them, going north. Taelord guessed it was for the best. They had families in the Empire, which made their loyalty to Utgar questionable. And Utgar had no desire to keep them as prisoners. So they were allowed to leave, a troop of nearly two hundred departing, and fading into the distance.
The Volcarrens and Vel continued west, towards Helsng. As they walked, mountains had come into view on the western horizon, and now these seemed to dominate the sky before them, stretching to the south and north.
Taelord – like the other Volcarrens – had never seen a proper mountain. He had thought the hills they passed before entering the Red Flats had been large, but they were miniscule compared to the scale he now saw. The base of the mountains was shrouded in a gray-yellow haze, but further up, the slopes turned green. As they drew closer, Taelord could pick out trees – something he had only heard stories of. On the highest mountains, the trees faded to brown, and then finally to white. The soldiers – before they left – had called it snow, but what exactly snow was, Taelord had no idea.
As the ground around them began to become more grassy and less sandy, a squadron of Imperial guards met them, offering to lead them up a valley between two mountains, to Helsng. They said the city was built at the head of a river, set against a mountainside further up the valley. The Volcarrens could camp in a vacant field next to the city.
It took them another day to reach Helsng. During that time, the Volcarrens discovered something Taelord had not expected: they could fly.
He had always known that there was something in the Wasteland air which kept Volcarrens from flying. It caused them to have leathery wings and red skin. But he had never guessed that by leaving the Volcarren, they could regain the ability of flight. As he watched Volcarrens move jerkily through the air, constantly in danger of crashing into the ground or each other, he had to admit this changed things. They had escaped the Volcarren, and now they had escaped the ground as well. They were truly free.
Taelord himself had tried flying, giving his pack to his mother to hold. It was a strange feeling, only the constant motion of his wings keeping him up. He was torn between a sense of freedom he had rarely felt, and a deep desire to return to the ground, where he could at least feel something solid beneath him.
His brief flight did allow him to better see the surrounding land. They had entered what seemed to be farmland – rows and rows of tilled earth, nestled between hills. The fields were vacant, but Taelord could imagine plants growing there. They didn’t have plants in the Volcarren, only fungus and small root tubers. He wondered what the fields would look like…
And then he forgot about the fields completely, as he rounded a mountain and Helsng itself came into view.
The city was surrounded by more densely packed farmland, fields plowed right up to the city wall. That wall was low, more of a steep earth embankment – probably meant to keep animals out. Beyond that, the city seemed to be divided into four distinct sections.
Immediately beyond the wall there was a mass of buildings, streets between them running in uncertain directions, their widths varying, homes set at odd angles. None of the homes looked particularly big – though of course to Taelord, any home at all was extreme luxury.
Beyond the homes was a more ordered section. Here there were rows of… buildings, Taelord guessed. They couldn’t possibly be homes, they were far too large for that. They were all squarish in shape, and ordered into neat lines, wide straight streets going between them.
Built up against the side of both sections, connecting directly with the cliff behind the city, was a gigantic dome. Taelord had heard of structures like this: proper kyrie castles, meant to survive prolonged attacks. The fortress at Srung had merely been a place to house a garrison. This… this was a proper keep. He guessed that was where the Wellspring must be.
Further beyond the neat rows of houses, the river ran, formed by a waterfall which cascaded down the cliff just outside the city. Wooden docks were constructed at its edge, and Taelord could make out several large shapes resting there – probably vessels for traveling the river.
Seeing the city, and all the homes it held, and the large keep… Taelord had a sudden moment of doubt. He realized for the first time just how massive the Empire was. They had armies. They had resources. If Utgar didn’t have the Wellspring, they could probably crush the Volcarrens in a single day. And they probably would.
Word had come back after the negotiations with the Empire ended: scouts would go to a remote island called Haukeland, and if it was suitable, they would all sail there. Until the scouts returned, they would camp at Helsng.
But what if Haukeland didn’t work out? What if the Empire changed its mind? Taelord wanted peace, not just for himself, but for his mother. But what if—
His thoughts were interrupted by Runa, who went careening through the air so close to him that Taelord nearly fell, her turbulence knocking him sideways. He righted himself and glared after her… but he couldn’t stay angry.
Runa had mastered flying quickly – which Taelord guessed made sense, since she had been a Valkyrie, and thus already flown. Now she spun through the air, literally spun, upside down then right side up, laughing as the world turned about her. Taelord couldn’t help but smile at her careless enjoyment. She might be blind and naïve about things like the possibility of war, but watching her… Taelord smiled anyway.
He was still smiling when he landed back beside his mother. She handed him his pack and sword back, but didn’t share his smile.
“What’s wrong?” Taelord asked.
“We should have left before now,” Fera said, glancing back the way they had come. “We should have hid in the Red Flats perhaps, made our way north.”
Taelord frowned. “We’re going to Haukeland,” he said. “What are you worried about, Mother? Utgar has the Wellspring, and wants nothing but peace. The scouts will return in a week or so, and then we’ll be able to start a new life in a new land.”
His words had no effect. “There will be conflict,” Fera said, shaking her head sadly. “The Wellspring will cause it. I’ve seen it before in Ahnvad – its pull will be too great. It cannot bring peace. Only war.”
“You’re wrong,” Taelord said automatically.
“Am I?” Fera said. “Even if I were, we are a bloodthirsty people. The Volcarrens long for revenge against the Empire. This is but a respite, Taelord. There will be war. There is always war.”
“That’s Ahnvad talking.”
She turned away. “He was right about some things,” she whispered. “I hate him like you do, but… he was right about us. About Volcarrens.”
Taelord couldn’t accept that. He turned, and leapt back to the air, willing to endure the strangeness of flight if he could escape the memory of Ahnvad.
Utgar had the Wellspring. The Empire couldn’t fight that. There would be peace. There had to be.
Taelord landed as they drew closer to the city. Fields surrounded them now, and these were filled with plants, long stalks as high as a kyrie, shrouded in long leaves and tipped with fat pods of what Taelord guessed must be grain. He had tasted it on occasion at Srung, but never seen where it came from.
Before he landed, Taelord had seen farmers dotted throughout the fields, swinging long scythes, harvesting the plants. Smoke curled up from the buildings beyond Helsng’s wall, and as the sky began to darken, smells began to reach the Volcarrens, carrying the scent of cooking food.
They passed out from between the tall plants, the fields on either side now harvested, allowing them an unobstructed view of the city. A few farmers stood on the harvested fields, and they turned as the Volcarrens approached.
One of them cried out when he saw them, waving his arms and pointing in their direction. Others took up his cry, several leaping to the air and flying into the city. The rest threw aside their scythes and came charging towards the Volcarrens.
More people began to spill from the city, flying over the wall and landing in the fields, to run towards them. Men, women, children even… it seemed like the entire population was racing towards them, yelling and waving their arms.
Taelord stopped and lowered his pack, reaching for the hilt of his sword, wary. But as the people came closer, he saw that they were unarmed. Their cries resolved into laughter, their shouts into cheers. He got his pack back on just as the farmers arrived.
The squadron of soldiers who had led them through the valley tried to stop the tide of farmers, but they were shoved aside without a second thought. The crowd pushed past them, cheering and clapping as if the Volcarrens were conquering heroes. They began rushing forwards, greeting individual Volcarrens and offering to carry packs.
One kyrie, around thirteen perhaps, Taelord’s age, ran up to him.
“I’m Rehs,” he said, out of breath. “I can carry your pack, if you want.”
“I can carry it,” Taelord said quickly, getting a better grip on it. Everything he owned was in that pack. He doubted the farmer wanted to steal it, but in the Volcarren you learned to protect what little was yours first, and trust later. If at all.
Rehs didn’t seem to mind. He picked up the pack of a nearby Volcarren – Veth, Taelord thought he was called – and began walking backwards, watching Taelord and the other Volcarrens, a broad smile on his face.
Taelord glanced to the side, where Utgar and Vydar had paused as several farmers approached them. They were both shaking hands as though they had just won a competition. Taelord couldn’t help but notice that Runa seemed to be surrounded by four guards, who were keeping the farmers from her. He frowned. True, they didn’t know these people, but they were farmers. Surely Utgar could give them the benefit of the doubt?
“Come on,” Rehs said. “You can put your packs at my home.”
Taelord glanced at him. “The Empire said we should make camp somewhere nearby—”
Rehs waved a hand. “The Empire says a lot of things. I’m not going to let you camp in some field.”
“Why?” Taelord said. He frowned at the other farmers around him, all laughing and cheering. “What did we do?”
Rehs laughed. “What did you do? You escaped! You beat the Empire! Both were supposed to be impossible.”
“But… what does that matter to you?”
“Of course,” Rehs said, “you don’t know anything beyond the Volcarren. Come on, it’s almost dinnertime. I can tell you everything while we eat.”
“We have our own food,” Veth protested, and Taelord nodded in agreement. No one was this friendly in the Volcarren, and it was unnerving him, baseless though his reaction might be.
“You eat with us tonight,” Rehs said. “You’ll understand why soon, I promise.” He gestured to the Volcarrens next to Taelord, which included his mother, Veth, and another kyrie with a deeply scarred shoulder.
Taelord glanced at Veth and the others. The same thing seemed to be happening everywhere: farmers were offering their homes and food to the Volcarrens. He saw one particularly grizzled raider being led away by a young woman, practically a girl, who was pulling him forwards by the hand, laughing at his hesitancy. He shrugged at Taelord, and let himself be led towards the city.
“We should go with him,” Fera whispered behind Taelord, nodding to Rehs. He frowned, but she was right: there was no danger here. They weren’t in the Volcarren anymore.
“Come on,” Rehs said, turning and leading the way. Taelord shrugged, and followed Rehs towards Helsng, his mother behind him, Veth and Scar-shoulder bringing up the rear. He kept his pack, however.