Valen

It was hard to keep going so slowly.

The ruin behind them, the wall annihilated by the Craft, the ongoing battle between two of those red-coated demigods, all of it had put a now familiar terror into Valen, and he desperately wanted to sprint. To flee to the train and demand they take him to the heart of the City, as far away from oncoming Golems and raging Crafters as he could get.

All that kept Valen's legs from launching him into a sprint was the surprisingly comforting presence of this apprentice Crafter, and the dome of unnaturally still air that surrounded them. The raging billows of heat that swept across the wall from the nearby battle was held away, like watching a storm through a window. The air around them was warm, almost uncomfortably so, but it felt, in a way that was entirely appropriate to its maker, like the heat of a hearth fire.

That apprentice, Vincent Hearthward, was the only one of the three people accompanying him to the control station who looked anything less than terrified. His relative calm was perhaps as important to the group's nerves as the haze of heat surrounding them. As he jogged beside them his gaze of slightly unfocused, even if he ran without any difficulty.

Another blast roared from somewhere behind them in the distance, and Vincent stopped in his tracks without turning around. "He used Saval's trick. Broke a piece of the wall and knocked her off it."

"Crafter Howel?" Valen asked. He spun around and looked back, past where the rest of his group were escorting Crafter Polden. The explosions and waves of fire had stopped, leaving only the dim twilight of the distant Spire to illumine the distant figure of Bracken Howel. "Can he reach us? We haven't been walking long."

"I'll ask," Vincent replied, and the heat haze vanished. The night air was surprisingly cool, and swept along as it always did from beyond the last wall.

A moment later, a flash of light appeared at Vincent's feet. Valen stepped beside him and looked down.

The Golem is too close, and I suspect it is drawn to the Craft. If that's the case, I am going to ensure it comes to me. As I do this, observe it as carefully as you can, as closely as you dare. Once my fire stops, extinguish yours and do not craft again until you are a safe distance away. I have left similar instructions for your master.

Burn Brightly, and have you been to a tailor recently?

"He isn't going to run?" Valen asked.

"No," Vincent replied, and he pointed.

Pointed out towards the Gloam, where the Golem was marching in a straight line towards Crafter Howel.

"We need to help him," Valen said.

"None of us have the power," Vincent said. But as if to contradict himself, he held up his other arms, where a half-dozen luminous birds were perched. "The best I can do is fulfil his last request, and study the Golem as closely as I can."

"But..." Valen began to say.

"If any Crafter had that kind of power, we wouldn't be still staring at that Golem," Vincent replied, his voice showing the strain of bottled emotions. The birds on his arm took flight, and soared off towards where Breckan Howel had reignited his heat haze. "Don't waste what he's doing, let's keep going."

Valen started again at a slow run, and tried to keep his eyes forward as new explosions echoed in the distance, and flashes of light pierced at the edges of his sight. He stared up ahead, at the train parked besides the watchtower, and measured out the minutes it would take to arrive.

They carried on for another minute, as Valen increased the pace to keep the others focused on the run. But eventually, Vincent turned around and looked back, stumbling to a halt, and Mildred and Fauth followed his example.

"Burn me," Vincent said. His mouth was open, and his hair had speckles of light waving through it.

Valen was about to ask the apprentice what he saw, but the first thunderous step the Golem was all the explanation he required. The Golem's step was heavier, and longer than the steps it had taken before.

"It's pace has quickened," Valen whispered.

The Golem's next step was immediate, and just as long.

Bracken Howel responded by raising his hand. At once, the Golem was surrounded in a mass of shimmering orange fire, like an orb. The fire grew brighter in seconds, and was nearly as bright as the Spire before Valen had to cover his eyes with his hand.

At that moment, Vincent raised his heat haze again, and that act might have saved Valen's life.

The entire sphere of fire exploded, detonating with a violence and fury Valen had never imagined seeing in his life before. Fire swept over the wall, blackening stone and cracking the battlements, searing the walkway in a circle around the edges of Vincent's defences. The Gloam was thrown back by the violence of the blast, and the broken edges of the wall cracked, casting bits of stone loose and hurling them through the air.

But the Golem still advanced, its pace now frighteningly fast, as that towering mountain of stone marched forward.

New explosions bloomed all around the Golem, each as bright and terrifying as anything Valen had witnessed. A sea of swirling red flame drowned the Golem, blooming in a mass of fire that could have enveloped a part of a district. But the fires swirled and billowed as the Golem passed within it, until at the very edge of Howel's Craft, a stone fist broke through the fire with the speed of a runaway train, and crashed into the wall.

Valen staggered as the wall snapped, crumbled, and bent to give way to that fist, and the luminous fury of Howel's Craft was extinguished.

Vincent's heat haze faded into the air, and the apprentice staggered backward, his mouth struggling to form words. Valen stepped over to him and turned his shoulder, pointing him to their destination. "To the train. We report what we've witnessed, and set the fields alight. Do not craft again until we're on that train."

The Golem cracked and groaned as it's massive form rightened itself, its arms settling at its sides. Once it stood upright again. It stopped, still as the stone it seemed to be made from, as if to survey the destruction it had wrought.

The breach in the wall caused by the Crafter's battle was easily wide enough for the Golem to march through, and the Gloam had already begun to wash over the fields behind it, spilling into the open land and surging past as if to devour the last horizon. Onwards, towards the Spire and the City huddled beneath it.

"Vincent," Valen said as he began to march again. "What did you learn?"

"Sir?"

"What did you learn?" Valen asked again. "Crafter Howel asked you to study it while he fought. What did you see?"

"Oh," Vincent mumbled, falling into step. "I'm not sure."

"You're not sure you saw?"

"I'm not sure of what I saw," Vincent admitted.

"Did the Golem look like it had been damaged? Cracks, fissures, distortions, I'd cheer over scorch marks right now," Valen said. "Did you see anything like that?"

"No, and it's strange," Vincent rubbed his chin and glanced back at the Golem. "The Crafts that they struck the Golem with, they hit at least as hard as then Golem does. It didn't breach the wall in a single strike, and you saw what happened when they turned on each other."

"I did," Valen said quietly.

"The only wounds I might have seen I noticed earlier, just before something extinguished my Craft before the battle. Its body looked like smooth stone, as if it just sat up from the mountain it used to be a part of. But it's hands and forearms had deep, black rivulets. Jagged, more common at its hands, none of it extending past the elbows."

"Good. Remember it, and if you think of more, tell me or write it down. You and I are going to report every detail before we leave," Valen said. He turned to the others, where both Mildred and Fauth were staring back as they walked. "Mildred, Fauth, I can trust the two of you to light the fields?"

Fauth looked as if Valen had startled him, but Mildred smiled and nodded once. "Aye, sir. We'll get it done."

Her confidence was a relief to Valen. "Then go on ahead, at a run."

Mildred took off, and Fauth struggled to keep up. The difference in their conditioning regimens was fairly profound, as Mildred had to turn and stop periodically to let Fauth keep close.

As the two of them ran, Valen noticed that Vincent had taken out a pad of paper. Immediately, he patted his pockets until he found a charcoal stick. "I have something to write with."

"I don't need it," Vincent replied. But the apprentice wasn't holding anything in his hand, instead pointing his finger at the page.

"Don't Craft!" Valen barked, snapping his fingers. Vincent jumped, swore, and nearly dropped the pad of paper.

"Spit and burning ash, that was stupid," Vincent said, and held out his hand for the charcoal stick. Valen handed it to him, and Vincent took it before he looked back at the still unmoving Golem. "Still not moving."

The next few minutes passed in silence as Valen lead Vincent into the watchtower and down a floor towards the communications equipment. Wordlessly, Vincent banded him the notes he had written down, which despite being written in clipped, broken sentences, took up over a dozen pages.

Valen flipped through the pages, and eventually set the whole thing down on the counter beside the machine. "I'd choke up the comm lines by sending that novel of yours over the wires. Just pick out the critical details, we can write up an action report while we're on the train."

"Of course," Vincent replied. "Just forward the warning that the Golem is unnaturally resistant to the Craft. It's best they know that now."

Valen nodded, and turned to the contraption. He reached up, and his finger lingered over the dials, as he considered how he wanted the message sent. He flicked three more switches, added another connector, and hoped he wasn't stepping on any toes too hard.

Cprl Redgrave, 4btln, 2cmpy, 3pltn, 1sqd, 1grp. Wall breached at E-4-5-2. Fields lit. Survivors of special detail returning to muster point at Wanderwight. Urg, relay to guild: Golems unnaturally resistant to The Craft, and appear able to sense it. Relay to all field officers in sight of the Gloam: Please review any behaviour changes from the Gloam or creatures of, occurring at roughly 02:47.

A hand tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to see Crafter Olivia Polden was standing beside him. She was looking at the notes in his hand. "Pass on that the survivor is available as a military asset. And that our assigned train is available to evacuate civilians in fringe communities."

The then looked up at the contraption, and pursed her lips. "You're forwarding the messages well outside your regular chain of command."

"I am. Crafter Howel was insistent that word should be spread about the Golem's resistance to The Craft."

"I agree. It's not your good judgment I'm commenting on," Olivia said. She pointed to the switches set up above, and said, "It's that you know how to broadcast the message on multiple outgoing cables, and set the auto-forward message so that it reaches, let's see..."

She squinted, and leaned closer to the dials. "Your majorj, your colonel, and direct to the First Stone, Army HQ. With the correct channel for a military courier to be dispatched, masking the message as if it was sent by your Colonel. I might take back what I said about your good judgment."

"Howel said it was imperative this was sent. And we are not out of danger," Valen replied.

And as if to punctuate his words, the watchtower shook as the wall cracked and bent beneath the Golem's fist.

"Point taken," Olivia said. "But what you just did is well beyond a regular specialist. That last bit with masking a colonel's credentials is something they only teach the master specialist assigned to a captain's personal detail. Because lieutenants aren't allowed to issue courier requests."

"You seem to know a fair bit about these machines," Valen noted.

"I help make them," Olivia said. "Did you lead the message with your name and rank? You could be in a lot of trouble if you did."

"We have bigger problems," Valen replied, and he pointed back to where the Golem still stood.

He could see Olivia frown, and her eyes look down and away. "Sorry," Valen said. "That was inappropriate of me. "

"No, I appreciate the attempt. We might have done better, but Saval..." Olivia trailed off, thinking for a moment. "In fact, that was strange. Oversight approved Saval's presence in this fight. It troubled my master, but he never explained why. Only that her research left her frayed."

"Shall we look in that chest she insisted on bringing along with her?" Vincent asked.

"Yes," Olivia said. "Lets."