The sky is leaden when the expedition departs from the Epos, and it stays that way throughout the hours of flight that follow. Quick though the velivus may be, the destination is a long way off; coupled with the fact that there’s little conversation on board, this makes the journey rather heavy-going.

  And that’s coming from me—and I’m not exactly the talkative type.

  “I’ll explain the details of the mission,” says Samuel around mid-morning, finally breaking the oppressive silence. “We’re heading to the place where the Prophets’ map was discovered. It was recovered by pirates, who later had it stolen from them during a republican raid.”

  “How do we know all this?” asks Dawn.

  “A small identifying mark on the map,” the pilot reveals. “We found it while studying it, and we traced it back to the pirate group that etched it. Luckily, we’re on friendly terms with them, so we got them to show us where it was found. Apparently, there are some ruins—the key might be hidden there.”

  “Might?”

  “Well, it’s pretty much certain.”

  “Since forever, people don’t put the key next to the lock,” I remark.

  I’m not even sure why I pointed that out. Normally, I’d steer clear of raising objections or sparking disagreements without… well, a proper reason.

  Perhaps, since this is a mission where some sort of responsibility has been laid on my shoulders, I feel the need to voice my doubts. I mean, to prevent issues that I’ll end up having to help fix.

  “I agree, but key is a generic term,” says Samuel. “Actually, we can better define it as the map’s activation device.”

  Does that make a difference? I wonder. Either way, I still don’t understand how they know the key is there.

  Something doesn’t quite add up, but for now I’ll refrain from pressing the matter. I don’t want to offend anyone by questioning the pilot’s words—and besides, my position here is still precarious. Best not to push it.

  Not to mention, Antony could very well lose his temper again. That wouldn’t be good for me—or for the others—if things heat up.

  I really hope I manage to be of use, I reflect. It’ll be embarrassing if we get there and it turns out I’m worthless. Which is fairly likely, considering how vague their expectations of me are.

  Getting accepted aboard the Epos is a slow, gradual process, and this expedition is a bit of a ‘shortcut’ that could either win me a lot of points… or cost me just as many.

  I don’t want to be seen as useless. Not after all the progress I’ve made.

  I’ve got to pull my weight.

  We pass hundreds of fragments and numerous banks of cloud, slowly descending in altitude as we move down to the layer below. The Pauters system—one of the most widely used in Maltia to map this world—divides Tersain into ten layers, and we’re moving from the eighth to the seventh.

  As I observe the landscape, I occasionally spot other aircraft travelling in the distance, and sometimes I even catch sight of settlements on some islands. I realise that, ever since I arrived on Tersain, I’ve only seen the inside of the Epos and the fragment where Dawn lived. Everything else I’ve only heard about.

  I think I’d quite like to have a look around this world. In a way, its many oddities fascinate me.

  It’s already afternoon when, at last, Samuel announces:

  “We’re almost there.”

  I wonder how he manages to read it, I think to myself, staring at the complex three-dimensional map the pilot uses to navigate.

  The velivus begins to slow down. The area we’re flying through is rather cloudy and full of small fragments. Samuel manoeuvres through them with ease, despite the moderate danger of the area.

  Several minutes go by, when all of a sudden the young pilot bursts out:

  “Bloody—!”

  The craft decelerates abruptly, losing a great number of metres in altitude at the same time. Already weightless, I’m pulled sharply upwards, my hands clutching my torso as if to keep my guts in place.

  “What happened?” I exclaim.

  “The Republic is here!”

  Samuel steers the velivus to position it beside an island, as if to hide behind it. The aircraft comes to a stop, hovering mid-air while the two brothers peer out through the front window, both equipped with telescopes. Dawn and I lean forward, trying to get a glimpse too.

  From here we can see a fragment slightly lower down. It’s rather small and elongated, and at one of its two ends rises what look like ruins. Seen from this distance, they remind me of a Mayan or Aztec structure.

  There’s movement near the building. It must be people, but it’s impossible to make them out clearly. There also seems to be a landed aircraft—possibly a velivus like ours.

  “Gendarmes? Why are they there?” asks Dawn.

  Gendarmes? I wonder, puzzled by the term. Oh—maybe it’s because here the soldiers are also a sort of police force.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “Too many assumptions,” says Antony.

  “We thought they hadn’t noticed the pirates’ mark… but we might have been wrong,” Samuel speculates.

  I get the feeling they’re not thinking clearly.

  “You said earlier that the Republic took the map from the pirates,” I cut in, “so obviously they knew who to ask about where it was found.”

  A brief silence follows.

  “Whether that’s true or not, they clearly carried out an investigation,” Antony concludes.

  “To be honest, there aren’t that many of them,” the pilot observes. “If they really knew about this place, I’d have expected to see at least one airship—yet there’s only a velivus.”

  “You think it’s just one of several search parties?” his brother suggests.

  “Could be,” Samuel nods. “Maybe they don’t have information as precise as ours. And since they haven’t called for reinforcements, there’s hope they haven’t found anything yet, or that they’ve arrived recently… no more than a day ago.”

  “Damn it! If only we’d left yesterday!”

  “But isn’t this artefact they’re after really important to the Republic?” I speak up again. “Even if they only know its rough location, it’s still a bit strange that they haven’t put proper resources into searching every possib—”

  “We don’t have time for these speculations,” Antony interrupts.

  Hey, you lot started it. I’m just trying to understand what went wrong too, alright?

  I’d be more than happy to mind my own business. But seeing how agitated the rebels are getting—and how they’re not keeping a cool head—I’m rather worried about what they might come up with.

  “What do we do?” asks Dawn.

  Samuel and Antony look at each other.

  “Six people at most,” the first estimates.

  “Maybe one or two armoured soldiers,” adds the other.

  “It’s doable…”

  “Risky.”

  “There’s no choice: we have to take the key.”

  I don’t like the turn this is taking. My worst prediction is becoming far too real.

  “What… what do you have in mind?” I ask.

  “A surprise landing,” replies Samuel, still not looking away from his brother. “Antony, if we fly beneath the island and come up behind that hill, we can land without being seen.”

  “Can you be quiet enough?”

  “That won’t be a problem.”

  A pause, then the eldest Sanders nods.

  “Alright.”

  … alright what? Hey—

  Samuel adjusts course and moves away from the rock we were using as cover, then begins to descend.

  “But… are we attacking them four against six?” asks Dawn. “And they’ve got armoured soldiers?”

  … attacking?

  “If we play it right, we can strike by surprise and gain the upper hand,” Antony replies. “If we land where we want to, we’ll use the hill for cover.”

  He’s referring to a rocky hill halfway across the island where they plan to touch down.

  “If we place an explosive charge on their velivus, it’ll create plenty of chaos and cut off their transport.”

  Explosive?

  “If we manage to take them down from the ground, good.”

  Take them down?!

  “If not, we’ll retreat to the velivus and strike from the air. Without aircraft, they won’t be able to return fire.”

  But… but… are we going into battle?

  At this point, I can’t lie to myself any longer—I’ve understood PERFECTLY well what those two are thinking.

  You’ve got to be kidding! This wasn’t part of the plan! And what’s with all those “ifs”?

  Alarmed, I look over at Dawn. But she doesn’t return my gaze, too focused on her brothers.

  I realise I don’t have any allies here who’ll help me make my concerns heard.

  With a wide arc, Samuel brings the craft beneath the fragment we’re to assault. He slowly ascends again, passing over its edge while carefully keeping the hill between himself and the Republicans. Somehow, he manages to make the engine almost completely silent, and even when he lands, the noise is minimal.

  “All right,” he says, switching off the aircraft and unfastening his harness.

  “Wait,” Antony stops him. “Stay here: If we need to make a run for it, you’ll have to be ready. Dawn and I will handle this.”

  And me? What am I supposed to do?

  The junior sergeant—at least I think that’s the rank the eldest Sanders holds in the Resistance—opens the hatch and gets out of the aircraft. As his sister joins him, the young man shoots me a dark look.

  “What are you doing?” he says. “Move it!”

  You could have mentioned me earlier, you know?

  Reluctantly, I go after them. I hate everything that’s happening, all the more so because, right now, my will seems to count for little.

  I shouldn’t stay silent.

  “Listen—”

  Antony cuts me off:

  “Got your pistol?”

  “Er…”

  I pull out a pistol that was given to me along with the cloak. They explained how it works, but never having used it, I feel as if I might as well be unarmed.

  “Then let’s go. And keep quiet!”

  No, hey, let me speak!

  So as not to be left behind, I hurry after Antony and Dawn, heading towards the hill.

  What am I even doing here? I think. Once again I’ve ended up in a war situation! What am I supposed to do? Do they really expect me to shoot someone? Couldn’t they have just left me on board the velivus?

  Anguish and frustration are building fast within me. And it’s now too late to voice my objections. I grip the pistol, hoping I won’t have to use it, and follow the others to the edge of the hill.

  “We’ll circle the hill from the right,” says Antony. “On both sides there are only a few metres before the drop, so watch your step.”

  Moving silently with our backs hunched, we make our way along the base of the hill. Before long, the enemy encampment comes into view. We position ourselves behind a few rocks, and from there, we lean out to assess the situation.

  The republican soldiers are scattered around the ruins, completely unaware of our presence. The enemy velivus is around a hundred or two hundred metres away. I count four enemies, but it’s possible there are others beyond where I can see.

  Looks like they’re conducting a survey, I observe, watching the soldiers’ actions. It’s likely there’s someone inside the building too.

  The ruins look like a kind of tower, overgrown with moss and vegetation. A wide entrance leads into the structure. The architecture is, in all respects, quite similar to what one would expect from a pre-Columbian construction.

  Fine, we’re here. So now what?

  Antony has on his back a sort of rifle with a very wide barrel. He grabs it and, kneeling down, points it at the enemy velivus.

  “Be ready to cover me,” he says, taking aim using a simple cross on the weapon.

  Dawn has already drawn her pistols, which she raises in the soldiers’ direction. Like me, she seems uncertain—she’s definitely never shot at a person, though for some reason I’m convinced she knows perfectly well how to use weapons.

  The problem is me.

  “Antony,” I force myself to speak again, “Listen, I’m not okay with this.”

  “… what?”

  The junior sergeant shoots me a sideways glance.

  “I said I don’t feel up to shooting or anything like that,” I state, trying to sound resolute despite my low tone. “I’m not a soldier.”

  “… if you haven’t got the guts, then just watch,” replies the eldest Sanders brother, turning back to his aim. “We don’t need you getting in our way with your cowardice.”

  … ah, here we go—one of those macho lines meant to offend my manhood. Doesn’t work on me: I don’t see the world through that lens!

  “But your life will be at greater risk if you do nothing,” the young man adds. “So don’t complain if you end up getting yourself killed.”

  … damn him.

  Unfortunately, he’s right. He and Dawn are too few! If they were combat experts, maybe… but the girl is clearly facing her first experience, so the bulk of the responsibility would fall on the junior sergeant’s shoulders.

  No matter how I look at it, and even without any great knowledge of military tactics, I can tell our disadvantage is excessive.

  Why did it come to this? I think, casting a desperate glance at my pistol.

  Everything’s happening too fast. I need time to think… to bring some order to this situation.

  Damn it, why did they drag me into this mess?

  Antony waits a moment longer… then pulls the trigger. A large projectile fires from the rifle, ending up in the engine of the enemy craft. A metallic sound rings out at the moment of impact, making the soldiers near the aircraft jump. A few seconds pass…

  … and then an explosion rips through the vehicle, scattering flames across the surrounding grass.

  “Fire!” Antony commands, putting down the rifle and grabbing a pistol.

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