?:?:?:? SIXFLAME ?:?:?:?

  I had to admit that I was rather impressed by the Torchers and their ability to simply walk no matter what. Face unknown dangers on an alien moon? Why, I’ll just keep putting one foot in front of the other, thank you very much.

  Some of them were ancient by anyone’s standards. I mean, they’d have died long ago on Enclave II. Sister Coralweft looked about three coughs from a grave and Brother Dawnchaser seemed to be powered by nothing but spittle and spite. And yet both walked as well as the rest of us.

  And then there was the clearly non-Torcher Ootu, who knocked all of them well out of the park. After his disappointment with the underwhelming tidal event and his erroneous prediction, he kept himself busy by darting off to examine every little sprout that caught his attention. Then he hurried back to catch up with us, only to race ahead again moments later. He must have covered three times the distance we did.

  Eventually, we reached the closest thing Kabus had to a clearing, meaning the sky was halfway visible, and Starcarver declared we were done for the day. Ootu sighed, dropped his duffle bag, lay his head on it, and was asleep within seconds. The Torchers gathered for their spiritual murmurs with Starcarver, but I hung back. I was curious, but I was also certain I’d get roped into their chanting if I got too close.

  No thank you. I had enough trouble with my bell duties.

  “Sixflame?”

  I turned to find Unna, a bright smile on her face and a knife in her hand.

  “Yes?” I asked, eyeing the knife.

  “Would you mind helping us get the evening meal? Starcarver said we should show you some of the edible plants around here.” Her smile widened slightly. “He thinks it will make you more useful.”

  “Oh.” I glanced at Ootu, fast asleep, and the Torchers, engrossed in their communion. Being useful would at least give me something to do. “Okay.”

  So, I let Unna lead me away from the clearing, guiding me through a field of waist-high bushes covered in tiny golden buds.

  “It’s just up ahead,” she said. “I was so happy to find it. I think you’ll like it, too.”

  At the end of the field was a small valley, like a gash in the ground. It was empty of Kabus’ usual vegetation. Instead, it had a massive structure that rose from the valley floor like a living monument.

  If a monument can be a sprawling mass of beige material with about a dozen knobbly towers rising up.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “We call it a finger-crown,” said Unna. “They’re actually colony organisms, meaning they are made up of thousands of individual units functioning as one. Come on, I’ll show you what we need.”

  We descended the valley walls and approached the finger-crown. She went right up to one of the towers, which were at least four meters tall. I lingered at the structure’s edge, unwilling to step on its dusty-brown mass. She ran her fingers along a tower, then pointed to a pale green patch. “Do you see those? That’s what we’re after.”

  I moved closer, gingerly stepping onto the finger-crown’s base. The things she meant were lichen-like growths, their colors ranging from pale jade to dull silver.

  “Are you sure those are safe to touch?” I asked.

  “Perfectly safe during the cool phase,” said Unna. “Just scrape gently along the surface and it’ll peel right off.” She demonstrated, using her knife to collect a small amount of the growth. Then she handed me her knife and a pouch. “Here. See if you can fill half of this. That should be enough to flavor everyone’s meal.”

  “Okay, sure.” I considered the fragment of lichen in her palm. “But it’ll take a while.”

  “You’ve got a couple of hours before we lose the daylight,” she said with a kind smile. “I’m going to head back to look for something a bit heartier. You know your way back, right?”

  I hesitated, craning my neck to look back at the way we had come. “Uh, yeah. No problem.”

  Without another word, Unna turned and climbed out of the valley, leaving me alone with this towering finger-crown and a knife.

  Okay, I thought. Time to scrape a supper from a huge alien.

  The lichens looked more abundant further inside the finger-crown, so I wandered past the outer towers. The structure opened up as I moved deeper, revealing archways and chambers formed by branches that spread from the towers, curving and spiraling. I crouched down to look around. Up above me, through the gaps made by the beige branches, I saw the curve of Mosogon set in a deep blue-mauve sky.

  Huh. Pretty.

  I settled in to do the work, scraping at the lichen clusters. The knife slid smoothly across the finger-crown’s surface and the growths came off easily. Still, at this rate, it was going to take forever to fill Unna’s pouch. Luckily I was used to tedious work.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Scrape, collect, and move to the next. Scrape, collect, and move to the next.

  I had no one watching over my shoulder, no quotas to meet, no punishment for falling short. The quiet was almost comforting. No platitudes about cosmic purpose or meaningful death. Just me, a knife, and a giant beige alien, existing together on a moon I could never have dreamed of. I was so stupidly content in this bizarre moment that I felt moved. So I took the bell from my belt and give it a little shake.

  Silly, I know, but I was in a silly mood. I spotted a cluster of lichens near my feet that looked like really rich pickings, and I bent down and got to work on those.

  .

  I froze, my knife hovering mid-scrape. I took a breath, then another, and then forced my hand to keep moving. The sound had come from my right. I peeked past my arm, checking the tight space between the towers.

  That came from the left. My heart was beating fast, but I kept my movements steady. I took one slow, steady breath, then rose and ambled to another tower that had really rich lichens. Thick, healthy growths. Perfect for my pouch. I scraped calmly.

  It was right behind me now.

  It was so close I could feel the moving air tickling the hairs on my neck. I slipped the last of the lichen into the pouch, secured it at my belt, and checked my grip on the knife. I silently counted. One…two…three...and turned.

  And there it was. The thing from the pit. The face from the tree. No longer a glimpse in darkness or a shadow in leaves, but there right in front of me. A tall, silvery figure in the shape of a long, slender human.

  But also, clearly, not a human.

  I gripped the knife tighter but kept it low because fat lot of good it would do me. This thing wore armor…

  No, wait. That metal was its

  Its seams were rimmed with moss-like growths, and tendrilling vines loosely encircled its very slender neck. It even had something approaching a face: a smooth, featureless oval with dirty flickering lights where eyes should be. No mouth, no nose, just that blank mask.

  Make no sudden movements, I told myself. Offer no words that might trigger a response. So, I stayed silent, observing this thing, waiting for it to make the first move.

  Suddenly the oval tilted, and it spoke.

  “I am Emissar.”

  I didn’t respond. I was not in the habit of speaking to things unless they told me to. My philosophy was wait and see what they could threaten me with before volunteering an inch of myself.

  After about a minute of this silent face-off, its lights-for-eyes flickered. Then it simply backed away, slipping between the finger-crown’s towers. Within seconds, it had disappeared completely.

  I stood sentry-still for several minutes, the knife clutched tightly in my hand. This was the third time I’d seen this thing. It was . Time to convince the others that I wasn’t losing my mind.

  Stuffing the knife into my belt beside the pouch of lichen, I squeezed through the finger-crown’s narrow space, jumped off its mass, and scrambled up the valley’s walls. I emerged into the field of bushes with the tiny golden buds and…

  And that’s when I saw her.

  Unna lay on her front halfway across the field, arms and legs splayed out and her head turned aside. My stomach tumbled as I ran over to kneel beside her. Please, not again. Not another one.

  “Unna?” I asked, gently touching her shoulder.

  Her eyes stared blankly at me. I held my ear to her nostrils but heard no breath. With sickening dread, I stood and looked back at the finger-crown, its towers just peeking over the edge of the valley. Was that silver thing still there?

  No. It was just the bushes and me, standing over yet another body.

  “What have you done?”

  The shout came from the edge of the field, where the jungle vegetation rose like a wall. It was Jacon, staring in horror. I opened my mouth as if I could start explaining all this (I couldn’t even have explaining), and then the other Torchers began emerging from the forest. Brother Dawnchaser was out in front, but he was soon pushed aside by Sister Gemheart.

  “Murderer!” she shrieked, jabbing her finger at me.

  I mean, I couldn't blame her. The scene wasn't screaming innocent Sixflame.

  “No, this wasn’t me," I said.

  “Three deaths!” Brother Dawnchaser thundered. “Aysa, Matteus, and now Unna! And each time, you were the last to see them alive!”

  “That’s not what happened. I was harvesting over there,” I said, gesturing towards the finger-crown. “Unna asked me to collect lichens while she went to look for other things. When I came out, I found her like this.”

  “A convenient story,” said Sister Gemheart.

  “Look at the knife!” said Brother Dawnchaser.

  Ah yes. I still had Unna’s knife in my hand. “Go on, check her,” I said. “She’s not been stabbed, there’s no blood.”

  “He had her alone, just like the others,” said Brother Stellaroak.

  “Why did you do this to her?” Jacon demanded. “Why?”

  “Wait, let us all take a moment of calm,” said Sister Pathsong. “Perhaps we should hear what Sixflame has to say before we start making accusations.”

  Yes, why don't I tell you all about a silver thing named Emissar.

  “There’s nothing to hear!” snapped Sister Rainshadow. “Three deaths! Three! And always him nearby! This cannot be a coincidence.”

  “That will be enough,” said a deep, steady voice. Starcarver had finally arrived, moving gently among the Torchers. “This upset serves no purpose. Sister Unna has joined Kabus, as have Sister Aysa and Brother Matteus before her. We must celebrate their deaths.”

  “No, Vanguard,” Brother Dawnchaser began, “this has become too much. We cannot ignore—”

  “I said .” Starcarver held up a hand. “We are Torchers. We walk to learn what worlds would teach us. Kabus speaks through these tragedies, and we must listen.”

  But Sister Gemheart was not in the mood to be silenced. “Vanguard, this false sentinel has brought us nothing but death. He must be bound and subjected to judgment.”

  “No,” Starcarver said. “Sixflame will remain free among us and shall continue with his task.”

  “But Vanguard—” several Torchers protested at once.

  “Allow me to finish,” Starcarver continued, raising his voice, “from this moment forward, Sixflame shall be at my side. As my shadow and my student.”

  Silence followed his words. I stared at him. Initially, I was as shocked as the others, but then it dawned on me that personal attendant to the cult leader was probably one step up from suspected murderer.

  “I don’t understand what is happening,” I said.

  “No, you do not,” Starcarver replied. “Fortunately, you need not understand. You need only obey my decision.”

  “How can you trust him?” Sister Gemheart’s voice trembled with barely contained fury.

  Starcarver smiled, though not with his eyes. “Trust? No, Sister. Not trust. Necessity.” He turned to Jacon. “Please prepare Sister Unna for her return to Kabus."

  I didn't ring the bell. My world was silent.