Free Grudgebearer by J.F. Lewis Page B

his chair.
    Not the first time I’ve heard that , Kholster thought back. Good reason not to cook it.
    You think he’s going to make us wait? Vander thought.
    I’d make battle plans around it.
    Would you wager naming rights on it?
    I never wager naming rights.
    â€œFarmer Aimes?” The magistrate read from the official slate he’d withdrawn from the satchel. Kholster thought he did a fair job of pretending not to watch for a reaction out of the corner of his eye. Kholster twisted his chin to his left shoulder and then his right, partially to stretch his neck muscles, but mostly to see the human flinch.
    See? Vander chided. You would have won. You have always been such a sword in the sheath.
    I thought the expression was pick in the shed.
    Farmer Aimes stepped forward, hesitantly, looking to the Aern as if seeking pardon or permission. Giving him both, Kholster waved the man forward and inclined his head permissively. Relieved, the short, squat man in often-patched overalls advanced to stand before the dais. Breemson mentioned some vague thing or other about the complaint, and Aimes dissembled further. Kholster had stopped paying attention by then. Something about cows.
    The humans say something about a stick . . .
    What? he thought back at Vander. Instead of sword in the sheath? Stick in the eye?
    Something like that.
    Maker? Bloodmane’s echoing thoughts intoned.
    Kholster, old friend , Kholster corrected automatically. Just Kholster will be fine.
    Of course, Maker. Scout and his crew have made it to the Shattered Plain. It is patrolled by crystal guardians, and the Eldrennai have built a wall around it. There are warning signs.
    Show me. Closing his eyes to see through Bloodmane’s, Kholster experienced a momentary sense of dismay as his viewpoint warped and refocused to reveal the canted perspective of Scout, Okkust’s armor. Plains once covered in myr grass, its purple plumes stirred by gentle breezes, had become a jumble of random craters and cracked earth, great shards of rock thrusting up high in one spot with the ground dropping away into deep rents in others. Abandoned, at the center of the devastation, Fort Sunder stood an empty carcass of stone which had once been home to over a million Aernese troops.
    What’s wrong with the air? Kholster asked.
    Relayed through Bloodmane, Scout’s reply sounded distant and faded. We think the odd shimmering is a side effect of Wylant’s destruction of the Life Forge, First One. The warning signs , Scout focused its vision, and one of the distant signs grew large in magnification until the words on it could be clearly read: Twist Warning: All Elemental Magic Prohibited By Order of King Grivek. Other signs read: Elemental Magic Unstable in this Area and Using Elemental Arts in this Area May Cause Dimensional Breach and Death.
    Do you feel any adverse effects? Kholster thought back to Scout through his link with Bloodmane.
    No, First One.
    Can you get me a better look at one of the guardians?
    Of course, First One.
    His viewpoint shifted again, this time coming to rest on an insectoid construction of clear crystal. Six wings like panes of wavy glass held it aloft as it flew a circuit around the thirty-foot seamless wall (made of the same transparent substance) it had been tasked to guard. As Kholster watched, one of its wings stopped functioning and it was forced to land atop the wall, perching with its spider-like legs clutching the narrow blade-like apex of the wall.
    Turning its head 180 degrees so it could get a better view of the malfunctioning wings, the construct reached back with the uppermost of its four sets of arms, the ones with prehensile digits as opposed to the heavy clawed graspers that punctuated the thicker lower arms, and began to manually force the wing to move, first up and down, then side to side. After several repetitions, the wing resumed normal function, and the construct continued its patrol flight,