Chapter 12 - Part 7

Iron Orphan hustled down the street, carrying two large sacks of shovels and picks. Some people eyed him warily, some waved, and he thought he heard one curse at him. Most ignored him. They were too numb emotionally.

He came to a cleared area bisected by a road. Men were cutting down trees to extend the visible gap. The cut trees were being trimmed and turned into barricades. A Warden of the Wood was directing the situation.

“Excuse me,” Iron Orphan said to the human male. “Where do you want the digging tools?”

“The heavyset shifter,” the man said, pointing to the left. He did not look into Iron Orphan’s eyes.

The warforged turned and went over to the fat, surly shifter. The man was not wearing a shirt, and the hair on his back and large belly was thick and black. Two other shifters were with him, both with minor burns. They were trying to hack at the earth with small handaxes.

“Here,” Iron Orphan said, handing the bags to him. “This will help us with the trench.”

“Us?” said the heavyset shifter. “There is no, ‘us,’ you filthy tin can.” He jabbed a finger at Iron Orphan’s chest. “We all heard how warforged are coming this way. We all saw how the wizard knew where to attack. You’re a Khyber-kissing spy for the Aundarians, is what you are. So get the Dolurrh away from me before I stab you myself!”

“Yeah!” someone nearby yelled.

“Say it again!” called out another.

“F’test you!” called out one man. “He’s been helping us!”

“To see what we’re up to!” snarled the heavyset shifter.

“Cut all this galig and get to work!” the Warden of the Wood yelled. “This isn’t going to help us survive the next attack!”

“Oh, but you are wrong,” came a loud, practiced voice.

Iron Orphan turned to see a human woman standing away from the tree she had been cutting. She was of middle size, with long dark hair that had bits of tree twigs woven through it. She was possessed of a powerful voice, and a striking manner. “You are very wrong,” she said. She began to walk forward, pacing her strides with a rising cadence to her voice. “These machines are a perversion of how the world was meant to be.” People stopped working to watch. “They are arcane magic given voice. A vile and unnatural thing.” She stood before them all, hands on her hips. “You restrain nature! You hinder it! You gather in large places, mimicking the cities of sin! You refuse to abandon the magic, the industry, and the poison! You have left Aundair, but you cling to Aundair’s ways, and you are surprised that the vileness rains down from the skies?”

“Shut that Ashbound junk!” someone yelled.

“No, you shut it!” called out another person. “She has the truth of it!”

“Nature will not protect you if you do not show that you will cleave to her and her alone!” the woman said, raising her hands above her head. “The warforged come because like attracts like! Will you sin with more hacking away at the life-giving earth, or will you turn those picks and shovels on your real enemy?” She pointed straight at Iron Orphan.

Oh, Iron Orphan thought. He wasn’t sure how to react, what to say.

The Warden of the Wood pulled his sword out and walked over to the woman. “You get back to work,” he snarled. “Get back to work right now, or I’ll cut you down!”

The people looked at each other. Some clearly agreed with the woman, some did not. Most of them looked uncertain.

The woman smiled, and turned around. As she walked back to her dropped handaxe and picked it up, she said “Nature will take us all, in the end.” She began cutting the tree again. “But some earlier than others.”

The Warden turned to Iron Orphan. He did not put his sword away. “Go back to the inn – to where the inn was. Go to the southern edge of town. No one wants to see you here.”

Iron Orphan nodded, and then began to walk away. He was now glad that he could not cry. Everyone there would have seen it.

And to think I thought I would fit in here in the Reaches, Iron Orphan thought. To think I thought I would fit in anywhere. The Balanced Palm had briefly been a family to him, accepted him. But they were all dead now. As dead as the people the people who had been immolated by the wizard.

As dead as his dreams.