The soldiers had taken over the moss covered remains of an abandoned fort. Ivy scaled the crumbling and reached for the shattered tips of broken towers. Fresh timber had been cut and stacked into a barricade in place of the old gates. The rusted metal twisted and ran like melted wax, as if the steel had been blown inwards by a massive fireball. The forest around the ruin was sparse, and the grass was short and rough. It was as if the Faelands themselves were recoiling from this place. Tallis knelt in front of a skeleton and pulled a blackened helmet from its head. It was a simple dome with two large loops that extended down to protect the eyes and bar to cover the nose.

“What is this place?” he asked.

Callan knelt next to him and gently took the helmet away, placing it back on the skeleton's head. “It is a dark place, a place where the war between our kind was fought, a place steeped in tragedy and terror. Do not disturb the dead here, Tallis. The souls in this place sleep lightly and they do not care to be woken up.”

“Okay,” he looked out to the field of patchy grass leading up to the fort. Jagged spars of white bone pierced the ground in a steady pattern leading up to the walls. “Why don’t you just stay hidden for now, Setia and I will talk to the soldiers.”

Callan glared at the ruin and let out an impatient huff. His breath fogged the air. “Fine. But at the first sign of trouble I am coming in there and I will end the pathetic lives of everyone inside.”

With a flash of green light Callan disappeared and a grey coyote stood in his place. The animal gave a nod and trotted off into the forest. Setia and Tallis walked towards the fort, stepping gingerly through the mass grave of ancient bodies. Each one was clad in rusted scraps of armour and clutching broken weapons. The corpses lay in neat lines and ordered squares, like they had been in formation when suddenly, they all dropped dead.

Setia shuddered. “I hate this place.”

“I’m not crazy about it either,” Tallis whispered. Something about the place made him want to keep quiet. “What do you think happened?”

“Don’t rightly care. But it reminds me to never piss off an entire Fae clan.”

“Noted.”

Five soldiers peeked over the barricade in front of the ruin, rifles raised. “That’s close enough.” One of them shouted. Her voice was painfully loud, defying the grim locations demand for silence.

Something dark answered her with a wordless whisper.

The soldier stepped out from behind the barricade, looking over her shoulder for the source of the whisper. She was a tall woman with dark skin and short hair. A pair of shiny sergeant’s bars were pinned to her shoulders. “Who are you?”

Tallis held up a hand in greeting and prayed to whatever gods and spirits might be listening that he could keep the terror out of his voice. “Lieutenant Allistair Cromley. Cold Iron Detective Agency.”

The sergeant lowered her rifle a little bit.

Great, thought Tallis. Now if it goes off I’ll take it in the gut instead of the face. Much better.

“What’s your business here?” asked the sergeant.

“Here to see your commander. They’re supposed to have some kind of Fae medicine they want the agency to take a look at.”

The sergeant frowned and slung her rifle over her shoulder. “But the liaison from the Agency just left. Why are they sending someone else?”

Tallis took a step forward and squared his shoulders. “Do I look like I have the Gods damned time to sit and explain every little thing to you, sergeant? Lives are on the line here! You may be plum weak ‘tween the ears but that doesn’t mean you can sit there and waste my damn time.”

"Yes sir, let me fetch the commander for you, sir." She turned and headed back into the fort.

Tallis waved for Setia to follow him and took off after the sergeant. He walked with his chest puffed out and made sure to sneer down his nose at the soldiers on the barricade. It's what the real Lieutenant Allistair would have done.

The sergeant turned on him. "Sir, if you'll please just wait here. I'll bring the captain out when he's free."

Tallis stepped forward, coming nose to nose with the soldier. "I ain't got the whole fuckin' day to spend beating the devil around the stump here. Take me to him now! Or I'll have you busted down to outhouse scrubber faster than anything."

The sergeant squared her shoulders and balled her hands into fists. "Yes sir. He's here in the tower." She led them into the courtyard and to the base of the only intact tower. The soldiers had set up tents in a ring around a short stack of crates. The five soldiers and their captain look to be the only ones here.

"Just through here sir," the sergeant pointed to the door at the bottom of the tower. "He's in a room at the top." She turned and added under her breath, "Hope he throws you out the window."

Setia and Tallis stepped into the tower. She shot him an ear to ear grin. "Damn, I didn't know you had that in you."

Tallis leaned against the wall and all the confidence and bluster he'd put on drained out of him like a dam bursting. "That was my old boss. I was just doing my best to repeat things he's said to me."

"Sounds like a real prick." Setia started up the stairs at a jog. "Well, you ready for the encore?”

“I guess I have to be whether I want to or not.”

“That’s the spirit.” She hit the top of the stairs and opened the door. “Captain. We’re here with Cold Iron. I have an Allistair Cromley here to see you.”

Tallis crested the top of the stairs and found himself in a dilapidated office. A ruined table sat in the center of the room, flanked by two mouldering chests. The captain stood with his back to the door, staring out an open window. He was a squat, barrel chested man in a crisp grey uniform with gold epaulettes.

He turned towards them with a scowl. “This is funny,” he said. “Allistair was here last week and I swear he only had one arm.” The captain drew a boxy, long barreled pistol from underneath his coat and squeezed the trigger three times. Setia caught the rounds in the chest. Spells flared and died with a howl of violet light.

“No,” Tallis screamed. He rushed the captain. The barrel chested old man reached out, caught Tallis by the front of his vest, pivoted at the hips, and tossed him out the window. He fell, flipping end over end, his heart locked in a vice of pure terror. He screwed his eyes shut as the fear overtook him. He wished he had wings again, wished he could slip his shape. The fear spilled down into sorrow. There were alot of things he wished he could do. Accepting that fear and sorrow he spread his arms and waited for the end.

The end never came. He opened his eyes and found himself skimming a handspan above the earth. He tucked his feet in and made a wide looping turn, flying back through the tower window. Setia had managed to climb to one knee and her hand hovered above her holster.

“Don’t try it,” said the captain. “Your spells are burnt out. You won’t make it.”

Her hand twitched. “I don’t know. I’m pretty damned quick.”

Tallis let his spell fall and swung his feet down off the windowsill. His head swam as a wave of dizziness came over him. “You’re missing one thing,” he said. “She has backup.” He drew his gun and pointed it at the back of the captain’s head. His heart beat hard enough that he was convinced it was echoing through the room like a drumbeat, his left hand trembled, but he managed to keep his weapon steady. “Put the gun down.”

The captain growled. A gunshot split the air. Setia flung herself sideways. Another shot rang out and the captain’s head snapped back. A warm, red rain fell over Tallis’ face and his stomach clenched. Bile rose in his throat. Before he could lose his breakfast Setia darted forward, grabbed him by the hand and drug him towards the stairs. They ran down the tower together and Setia shouldered the door open at the bottom of the stairs.

A firing line greeted them. Tallis dug in his heels and hauled Setia back inside the tower. A hail of shots tore through the door. The bullets bounced off the stone behind them like thunder and filled the room with choking swirls of dust. Tallis clapped his hands to his ears and fell to his knees, overcome by panic.

Standing on shaking legs, he gripped his revolver tighter and dared to open his eyes. He and Setia leaned out into the doorframe at the same time and fired a shot. Blood misted the air. One of the soldiers fell. Another tide of fire broke over their stone shore, carving furrows into the ancient masonry. Setia leaned out and snapped off another round. She pulled back in with a wince.

“Back up,” Tallis shouted over the gunfire. “We can’t hold them here.”

She nodded and they shuffled backwards up the stairs. One of the soldiers dared to advance through the door. They both fired again and he stumbled back with a rattling gasp. At the top of the stairs Setia turned over the rotting table and knelt behind it. A bullet cut through the air behind them and slammed into the ceiling, sprinkling them with dust.

“What the hell?” asked Tallis running to the window. His heart stopped for a moment. An entire platoon knelt in the courtyard, aiming rifles towards the open window. A flare of blue and violet rolled through the courtyard and reality broke. The panes of the world shattered with a shriek like damned souls and twisting metal, a cold wind tore at the fortress, and where a moment before there was nothing, a carriage and a team of horses stood. The horses panicked instantly and sprinted for the gate. No amount of cursing from the driver could get them to listen. The platoon fired again and Tallis dropped, narrowly missing the storm of lead that blew through the window. Peeking up over the windowsill he fired down at the soldiers.

Another shot tore into the room from the door behind him and he fell on his arse, flopping ungracefully out of the way. Setia answered it with a bullet of her own and a scream rolled up the staircase. Tallis leaned up over the window sill again and emptied the revolver. When the weapon clicked dry, he saw a group of soldiers break off from the main line and push around the tower, coming for the door at ground level.

He ducked back in behind the stonework to reload. “Setia,” he shouted. “More coming to you.”

She leaned up over the table and fired another three shots. The fourth trigger pull produced the most terrible noise on the battlefield; the soft click of a hammer falling on an empty chamber.

A soldier leaned through the office door. Tallis brought up his weapon and fired. The other man’s head snapped back trailing a cloud of pink mist and he fell down the stairs behind him. He’d killed someone. Another person like him. Another person with a family, with a life. Another person with their own story. Dead. Because of him.

With a long breath he shoved the thoughts from his mind and handed his gun to Setia. “Take it. You’re the better shot.” He traded guns with her, slid in next to her behind the table, and pulled a handful of shells off of her belt. Thankfully, her gun was just a bigger version of the banker’s special he’d trained on with the Agency. His hands worked of their own accord while his mind searched for a solution. There had to be a way out of this. There had to be something they could do but he just couldn’t think of the answer. His focus was shattered by the constant hammering of gunfire and all it could offer up was the sickening sight of the soldiers head snapping back in a cloud of blood. The man probably had a family. He couldn't think of that now.

He finished loading the gun and passed it back to Setia. She handed him his own revolver back, now empty. He loaded that too, and the thunder all around them slowly rolled to a stop. Tears stung his eyes. He was useless here, helpless. “Setia, what do we do?” he didn’t even bother keeping the tremble from his voice.

She took his gun with a sigh, holding both weapons pointed at the door. “We can’t do much. But you could fly out of here.”

His mouth fell open and he raised an eyebrow. She wasn't saying what he thought she was, was she? “No.” he shook his head.

Another peal of gunfire tore through the tower before he could say anything more. Setia stood and vaulted over the table, firing both pistols through the doorway.

“I’m not leaving you,” Tallis shouted.

She fired another volley. “Damn it! That’s our only option here. You get away. I’ll buy you as much time as I can.”

He crawled to the captain’s corpse and pried his gun out of his hand. “No!” he snapped. “That’s not happening. I am not leaving you to die here. I am not leaving without the medicine for Aragam. I’m not.”

She pulled back the hammer on the gun in her right hand. “Then the only way out is through.”

He nodded and they rushed the stairs together. Setia fired both pistols and two men tumbled over the railing of the spiral staircase. She bent low and a round sliced through the air above her head. Tallis fired over her shoulder. A woman flinched back, a growing red stain covering the shoulder of her uniform. Setia darted forward and planted a boot in the woman’s chest, kicking her over the rail. Together they ran for the door at the bottom of the tower and pushed through without slowing down. Setia moved to a rhythm only she could hear, taking leaping steps and spinning through the crowd of soldiers. She punctuated each beat with a gunshot. Tallis fought with none of her grace or skill. While she spun out of the door and danced around the gunfire, he dropped and slid forward on his knees.A spray of buckshot cut the space he’d occupied a fraction of a second before. He rolled forward to his belly and put a bullet through the nearest leg he could see. The group's attention shifted to Setia and he pulled himself up to one knee, firing into the press of bodies until his stolen gun ran dry. Soldiers fell and he couldn’t be sure if he’d been the one who killed them.

The uncertainty didn’t make him feel any better.

The last man fell, bleeding, and they ran to the center of the tents, ducking behind the crates. The last of the platoon fanned out in a half circle around them. There couldn't have been more than ten of them left. The soldiers closed in and raised their weapons.

“Well,” said Setia. “We had a good run. Looks like our luck is out.”

A deep and booming voice cut through the battlefield. “My name is Callan Osmund. Justicar of the Winter Court. Son of the Highland clans. Face me and let us end this.”

The soldiers turned towards the noise. Callan rode in on the wagon that had driven off earlier. He pulled up on the reins hard and leapt from the back, landing hard and rolling to his feet. The soldiers opened fire. The bullets slapped off his coat, doing no more damage than a fierce rain. Callan snarled and fired into the nearest soldier.

“Honourless dogs,” he growled. He fired again and a second soldier fell, a bloody ruin. The remaining men shared a horrified look and turned to run. Callan leapt after them bringing the barrels of his gun down on top of one of their skulls. The metal cracked and bone shattered with a wet crunch. The man fell, limp and boneless. The Fae didn’t let up. He brought the axe down next, burying the blade in a soldier’s neck. The weapon stuck fast and he let it fall.

Catching the final soldier by the collar, Callan lifted her off her feet. “Run home,” he said. “Run home and let the world know what happened here. You let them know that three faerunners decimated a score of your men. And there are hundreds of us. Imagine what kind of terror we could unleash if we put our minds to it.”

He set the soldier down, took a violet gem from inside his coat and pressed it into her hands. The soldier broke it and disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke.

Tallis stood and dropped his stolen gun. He took one shaking step out across the desolation, staring down at the ruined corpses around him. The hot copper smell of blood painted his nostrils and stuck to the back of his throat. His stomach churned but nothing came up.

Callan put both of his hands on Tallis' shoulders and steered him towards the wagon. "Stay with me, friend. You've gone all pale and shaky. Here." Callan slipped his hand under Tallis' armpits and lifted him up into the driver's seat.

A blanket fell around his shoulders.

"Come on, Setia," said Callan. "Let's get this stuff loaded."

Tallis sat shaking, and watched as a small grey and black bird landed on the barricade. A whiskey jack, the trickster, changer of ways.

He looked back at the death stacked behind him. Maybe the world was ready for a change. Maybe it needed one.