Siderocalin’s eyes shot open, his body covered in a cold, clammy sweat. He didn’t see though his own eyes, but through the eyes of Neutrophil. The magic scared him, but he consoled himself by comparing it to the bond shared between twins. It’s normal to feel the emotions of loved ones, right? The intense surge of emotion felt by his liege drew him away from his own body, if only temporarily, to alert him to the danger. The Ferrichemists were back.
It shouldn’t have come as a big surprise, the war was essentially eternal, or so he had been told. The word on the street was that the Ferrichemist needed free ferric iron, and Somatia had it. Trade routes had been considered, but in the end, the Ferrichemists were deemed too foreign and too greedy to be allowed access to the metal that made them powerful.
Siderocalin’s head swiveled as he heard a creak in his room, his eyes coming to rest on a small opening on the far side of his chamber. Cautiously, he arose and crept towards the door. He hadn’t seen any indications that the door existed previously, but he had just moved to this room recently. Oddly, he could not seem to remember where he had been before. Everything in his memory was hazy, up until the moment that he met Neutrophil.
From what Siderocalin had gathered, Neutrophil was the king, and he was somehow related to the king. Why else would Neutrophil’s emotions be able to draw him away from his own body? However, since he had arrived in Somatia, the few that he had met hadn’t bowed to him, nor called him “my prince”. Maybe Somatia didn’t have princes?
He reached the opening, and peered inside. There was a narrow staircase with a crude railing that spiraled upwards, but he was unable to see what awaited him at the top. Nervously, he wrung his hands together and slowly retreated to the bed. What if the opening was the beginning of the attack by the Ferrichemists? He should warn someone. Yes, warning someone experienced would be a good idea. He was new, he didn’t know what was happening.
Siderocalin stilled his hands and sat down on the edge of the bed. If Neutrophil could communicate with him, maybe he could communicate with Neutrophil. He purposely closed his eyes, willing the erratic beating of his heart to calm.
Neutrophil? Siderocalin thought hesitantly. My king! Neutrophil! He cried, but to no avail. Frustrated, he gave up with the attempt to communicate. Deep breath, he told himself, keep taking deep breaths. If the Ferrichemists were attacking him, they would surely have come down the stairs by now, right? And if he needed to fight, he would want to know the lay of the room above beforehand. Unconsciously, he looked down at his clasped hands. He saw clean, smooth, unblemished hands, not the hands of a fighter. No, no, no, he couldn’t fight them. Surely, if Neutrophil had warned him about the invaders, there was something he had to do, but the warriors must also have been summoned.
Siderocalin reeled in his thought. He knew that there were invaders, and he knew that a door had mysteriously been opened in his chamber. Faking confidence, he walked towards the stairs again and began to ascend.
When he reached the top of the stairs, he found that the room wasn’t a room at all. The stairs ended abruptly, and Siderocalin was left standing on the edge of a ledge, looking out at the surrounding environment. He marveled for a moment at the extent of his field of vision, but he was caught off guard when Neutrophil’s voice resonated within his skull.
Of course he doesn’t show up until now, Siderocalin thought bitterly.
“You know that I hear your thoughts, Siderocalin.”
“Oh, my King, I’m sorry,” Siderocalin stammered, trying to calm his beating heart again. “I tried to contact you earlier but you didn’t respond.”
“You should not be trying to use the Sight,” Neutrophil commanded. Almost as if he could feel Siderocalin shrinking back from the rebuke, he added: “the Sight is dangerous for those not well trained, and I am the only one with the training required to reach out to my people like this.”
Siderocalin nodded his head shakily, then thrust his chin towards the outside world. “So, what is this?”
“The outside world?” Neutrophil responded questioningly. “My apologies, I forget how green you are sometimes,” he trailed off. Siderocalin waited for him to continue, looking away from the edge, the vertigo making him somewhat unsteady on his feet. “I had hoped the timing would would work out better. For now, I need to know one thing, are you with me?”
Knowing that Neutrophil was privy to his own thoughts, Siderocalin responded instantly with what he thought was expected: “Yes, my King, my services are yours.”
“Good, good,” Neutrophil trailed off again. Siderocalin couldn’t help but wonder if he was actually paying attention. Or maybe he was communicating with others, trying to plan the assault? As long as he didn’t have to fight, he would be happy. Then he replayed his words in his head, yes, my King, my services are yours. What had he just signed himself up for? “Now, how much do you know about the Ferrichemists?”
“Not much, my King,” Siderocalin responded. “I know they are dangerous and that they want the iron that we have here.”
“It’s more complicated than that, but you don’t really need to know the details, and unfortunately, I simply don’t have the time to explain it to you. Suffice it to say, I have dispatched warriors to the frontline, and fighting has likely already begun. I need you out in the field, but I already know of your worries, so you will not be fighting directly.” Inwardly, Siderocalin breathed a sigh of relief. “As you have mentioned, the Ferrichemists want iron, and we know that it makes them very powerful. As such, to prevent them from decimating out troops, I need you to ensure that they can’t get our iron. Destroy their iron collection agents, the siderophores. Clear?”
“How do I…” Siderocalin started, but Neutrophil cut him off.
“I’m being called elsewhere. Go!” Neutrophil commanded. Despite the tension of the situation, or perhaps because of it, Siderocalin burst into laughter. Had he been named after the thing he was meant to destroy? He shook his head, trying to center himself on the task at hand.
He could feel the retreating presence of Neutrophil as he looked around his surroundings again. The environment, he thought to himself, as his eyes crossed to the vast expanse in front of him. Beautiful and terrifying at the same time. Steeling his nerves, he walked closer to the ledge. He was supposed to go out there, all the way from up on this tower. Carefully, he kneeled down and peered over the edge. The edges were rough, maybe he could climb down without falling to his death.
Without warning, Neutrophil barged back into Siderocalin’s mind. “Just jump,” he commanded, exasperated.
All of a sudden, jumping seemed like the most logical solution. As if he was no longer in control of his own body, Siderocalin hurled himself off the edge of the ledge. As he fell, the connection he had with Neutrophil began crumbling. Lacking the strength he previously had, Neutrophil managed to stammer out his last word to Siderocalin: “Fly”.
At that moment, Siderocalin realized that he wasn’t doomed to fall to his death. Exuberantly, he began to ascend, only to later allow himself to nosedive towards the ground, and then ascend again. It was as if the stress of the attack vanished, as he explored his new world. He was free. Everything was so free.
Eventually, Siderocalin wearied of his games and allowed himself to float gently on the current. Before long, he realized that he was being pulled, every so slightly, in one direction.
And that’s when he saw them. The Ferrichemists. Just one wouldn’t have been intimidating, but Siderocalin realized that their power was in their numbers. They stretched as far as the eye could see, a solid mass of moving bodies. Nearest him stood Neutrophil’s army, but it looked pitifully small. It seemed like the constant war with the Ferrichemists hadn’t served to train the troops and strengthen their defenses, but had weakened them beyond measure.
Looking down at the scene unfolding below him, Siderocalin could see that some of the Ferrichemists hadn’t bothered fighting, but had pushed further into the interior of their lands. They moved with a desperate quality, despite the fact that others had Somatia’s troops surrounded.
At that moment, Siderocalin realized that those he had been watching weren’t the soldiers, they were part of the iron collection agency. They weren’t moving towards the interior, but rather retreating, hoping to pass off the iron to those that could make use of it. Without any thought, Siderocalin dove towards the one that was nearest to the soldiers.
He didn’t know exactly who could make use of the iron, all he knew was that the siderophores couldn’t. He figured that it was safest to assume that everyone was a threat. He didn’t even know what would happen if they got the iron. Would they turn around and leave, or would they gain a power that could annihilate Somatia at a touch? Siderocalin didn’t intend to find out.
He was quickly drawing near the Siderophore that had almost reached its final destination. One of the Ferrichemists had noticed, and was also moving towards the Siderophore. I did not sign up to fight that Ferrichemist, Siderocalin growled, almost as a battle chant. All he knew was that he needed to stop that Siderophore.
That’s when he heard a low rumbling behind him, and turned to see at least fifty more Siderophores scuttling towards them. Even if he managed to stop this one, what would happen afterwards? One thing at a time, he told himself. Don’t let them get this first bit of iron. Reinforcements will be on the way.
Siderocalin increased his speed once more, exerting all of the strength he had. Deftly moving slightly to the right, he set his course, aiming to collide directly with the Siderophore, pushing it out of reach of the nearing Ferrichemist.
He grunted in pain as the impact shook his whole body, though it seemingly had little effect on the Siderophore. They tumbled together, the Siderophore straining to get away, Siderocalin intent on keeping it from achieving its goal. The struggling continued for some time, Siderocalin solely focused on subduing his prisoner. The rest of the world was lost to him as he fought for control. He ignored the scrapes and bruises inflicted on him with complete indifference, not even giving them a second thought. He had one job, and he was intent on accomplishing the one task Neutrophil had given him. Eventually, the struggling began to cease and Siderocalin once again became aware of everything around him. He had completed his task, but what about all of the other Siderophores? He wondered.
As he looked around, he realized that the struggle had taken him far away from the initial combat he had seen. He rose slowly, still gripping his prisoner, to survey the extent of the damage. He trudged back up the hill, the trek indefinitely harder as he was dragging the reluctant prisoner. First, his eyes came to rest on the Siderophores, who were all being sequestered by reinforcements. Then his eyes traveled to the warriors, who were shouting gleefully. It seemed as though the Ferichemists had seen their dreams of acquiring the iron thwarted by him and the reinforcements, and were quickly retreating from the battle. It looked like they had won again, this time at least.
