“What we witnessed today was proof that we cannot wait around any longer,” Gorman declared, standing on a low porch near one of the entrances to his tower. Most of the town gathered around, about 40 people in total, including a few kids.


    Gorman had called this meeting shortly after Elion and Keyla were brought back to the tower by the perimeter patrol. After the Aterfel Guard concluded their sweep of the island and determined that no scavengers had managed to swim ashore, the town gathered to discuss what happened.


    This was the first time Elion had seen most of these people, and he was astonished to see how many of them had missing body parts. Gorman had been hard at work, replacing human limbs with machinery. A hook hand here, a peg leg there. Elion wondered how many of these people had old motor vehicle pieces instead of internal organs.


    I guess that’s why he’s called the Father of Cyborgs. I wonder if he gave that title to himself, or if other people call him that too.


    Domas pulled up behind the crowd, Kasm riding in his cab. Tael stood near other members of the Aterfel Guard, like he didn’t want anyone to forget he was a member. He was the youngest member by far, so Elion understood his concern.


    Trying to read expressions of the people in the crowd, Elion saw anger, fear, frustration, and even disgust. Some of them scowled at him. He understood it, now that he’d learned more about Prator. The man had left a bad taste in their mouths when it came to Aurelians.


    They probably blame me for this attack too.


    The warm afternoon sunlight bore down on them. Sweat darkened Gorman’s shirt at the small of his back. The air smelled like sweat, dirt, and desperation.


    “The infected grow craftier, more capable, and stronger as we speak. They capture and infect roaming scavenger bands. The river will not hold them for long. Taking advantage of our distraction at the bridge, they nearly reached our town. It is the quick action by Keyla and Elion that saved us.”


    “How do we know it wasn’t him that caused it in the first place?” A woman in the crowd asked. She was dark-skinned, and muscular. She did not appear to have any kind of mechanical augmentation. “They’ve been getting more aggressive since he—”


    “Sophira, please,” Gorman said. “Let me say my piece before we get into the questions.


    Keyla and Elion stood on the porch behind Gorman. Keyla lounged, leaning on a railing, fiddling with the strap of her laserarm. Elion stood awkwardly straight, arms folded, uncomfortable as everyone stared at him.


    “The bridge is failing,” Gorman continued. “I have been working day in and day out to repair it, but we lack the materials needed to return it to full functionality. The mechanisms were never designed to hold the bridge open for so long. We will have to secure the bridge in the open position, or dismantle it.”


    Kile shuffled forward. He was still getting used to his new peg. He leaned on the arm of Tilly; Elion remembered her from the first time Gorman had taken him to see the bridge. She had been working as one of the sentries there.


    “If I may?” Kile asked.


    Gorman gestured, welcoming him. “I asked Kile to speak his mind on this.”


    Kile stepped up onto the porch. “You all know that I’ve been opposed to dismantling the bridge. To me, it symbolizes a return to the past. A time when we could freely scavenge from Kairn Tol, and trade with other settlements on the river. I hoped to return to these times, like many of you. But I now see the danger of allowing the bridge to remain. I should have listened to you sooner, Gorman. Maybe I’d still have a leg.”


    This drew dry chuckles from the crowd.


    “Thank you Kile,” Gorman said, clapping the man on the shoulder. “But as we saw today, dismantling the bridge will not protect us from the infected. We have waited too long and need to take more drastic action.”


    Murmurs from the crowd.


    Gorman cut to the chase. “We need to destroy the Shard.”


    Keyla yelped, and Gorman turned to her, surprised.


    “Wait, no,” she said. “We can’t do that,”


    “Why not?” Gorman asked, pressing his lips together and narrowing his eyes as he turned toward his apprentice. “I assure you we can. We have the necessary—”


    “I saw my mother today,” Keyla said.


    Gasps from the crowd, and all eyes fixed on Keyla.


    “She was infected. She was on the rafts, her eyes black and her mind not her own. She shot at Elion, but… She missed me. And we know that Selna Aerden never misses a shot. She’s still in there and needs to be healed!”


    “What about my son?” an old woman cried out from the crowd. “Did you see my son?” The meeting dissolved into a hubbub of people asking about their family members, those who had followed Prator out of the town.


    “I don’t know!” Keyla yelled. “I barely recognized my own mother. She changed a lot, but we need to help them. After Kasm’s healing, how can we not at least try?”


    Gorman grabbed Keyla by the arm, his face furious. “What are you doing?” he snarled. “Why didn’t you tell me this before? We need to do something to stop the infected. You don’t have a plan, you’re just riling people up!”


    Townsfolk argued with one another, and the whole scene nearly devolved into a brawl.


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    “Be quiet while I fix this,” Gorman hissed.


    He turned to the town, his face melting back into the warm, benevolent mask.


    “Clearly we have a lot to discuss,” he shouted, but his appeal could not penetrate the noise of the crowd. “Give me that,” he growled, pulling Keyla’s rifle away from her.


    Gorman fired the gun into the air three times. The thump-splatter of the rifle immediately caught everyone’s attention, and all eyes turned to rest on Gorman.


    “This is new information,” Gorman said. “We need to be certain about what we know before we commit to any course of action. We will discuss any alternative plan that Keyla may have, but for now we will proceed with the effort to destroy the Shard. I have been in contact with our friends in Upprifer, and they are willing to help us fight the infected.”


    “How will we destroy the Shard?” This question from a thin man with curly blond hair. He was missing a hand; it had been replaced by a claw with three articulated grippers. This clenched and unclenched as he spoke. “What will we do about the distortion field?”


    Sophira took the opportunity to renew her question. “Doesn’t it seem strange that this all happened after the Aurelian arrived?”


    “My son is still out there!” The old woman yelled again. “And your brother is too, Zayven, so we shouldn’t even be talking about blowing things up!”


    The man, Zayven, shoved his hand and claw into his pockets, looking embarrassed.


    “Quiet, Brynna,” Gorman yelled. “We all care about our missing friends and family. And we all agree we have to do something about the Shard. I wanted to discuss this more with everyone,” Gorman said, “and we will. But clearly we have more to talk about than I was ready for. Everyone go home.”


    He slung Keyla’s rifle over his shoulder, then grabbed Elion and Keyla, pulling them back into the tower.


    The door had barely closed behind Gorman when he pushed Keyla up against the wall, grabbing her wrists as she struggled.


    “Hey,” he protested, but Gorman shoved him away.


    Keyla bowed her head, tears pooling in her eyes.


    “Never contradict me in public again,” Gorman spat. “Never.”


    “I’m sorry, sir,” she said. “You’re hurting my wrists.”


    “Why didn’t you mention that you thought you saw your mother? Why didn’t you tell me that before I went out there?”


    “I—I don’t know. I didn’t think you’d believe me.”


    Gorman groaned, releasing Keyla from her grasp. She rubbed at her wrists, weeping softly.


    Scratching at his beard, Gorman scowled. “You’ve messed things up here. Now nobody’s going to want to fight infected scavengers, worried that they’re fighting a family member.”


    “But what if they are fighting a family member? Shouldn’t we try to save them?”


    “How, Keyla?” Gorman demanded. “We’re not Aurelians. We’re not Heranans. We don’t sit and hope and wait for things to grow. We’re Artificers. We make plans. We execute them. So tell me what your plan is!”


    Keyla shook her head, tears spilling into her lap.


    “Stop,” Elion said, stepping up beside Keyla. “Who can make a plan with someone shouting at them? Back off.”


    Gorman glared at Elion, but took a half step back. “This is Artificer business,” Gorman said. “We don’t need your input, Aurelian.” He spat the word like a curse.


    “Look,” Elion said. “Someone healed Kasm. Maybe they can heal other infected too. If other people from Prator’s party are at the shard, infected, shouldn’t we try to help them?”


    “That’s not a plan,” Gorman said. “People need leadership. We need to take action to defend ourselves. We shouldn’t wait around for the infected to kill or infect us all, just because you hope there is a nicer, cleaner way to do it. If you want to present an alternate plan to me, we can talk. Until then, we have work to do.”


    Gorman turned and started across the room, heading to the open space by the garage door where two scavenger bodies lay.


    “Keyla, you don’t have time to sit around crying,” Gorman said. “We’re going to need all the firepower we can get for our attack on the Shard. Help me with some Threnody Modules while they’re fresh.”


    Keyla grimaced, and Elion placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said. “We’ll figure something out.”


    Keyla shook him off. “Don’t touch me,” she said. “He’s right. We need to follow the best plan. I don’t have a plan at all. Just hopes and wishes, like my mom and Prator.”


    She left Elion standing there and crossed the room. Gorman produced two glass tubes, either end capped in electronic circuitry pulsating with a teal glow. He pulled one end off of the tube, and set it beside one of the bodies of the dead scavengers.


    A pit burned inside of Elion’s stomach as he watched the procedure, furious anger directed toward Gorman, mostly, but also at himself. He couldn’t help but feel like he had failed to protect Keyla.


    They both pulled on long gloves, and Keyla filled the tube with a viscous, clear liquid. Using a pair of scissors, Gorman cut away the shirt from the dead scavenger. The woman lay on the ground, eyes blackened, staring blankly at the sky.


    With a knife, Gorman cut along the woman’s abdomen, below her ribcage. Black infected pus and blood bubbled from the wound. Inserting a pair of spring-loaded tongs into the cut, Gorman opened the wound, peering up into the chest cavity.


    Holding a scalpel in one hand, he reached inside and began cutting away internal organs. Each of these he passed to Keyla, who laid them carefully on a clean sheet of plastic nearby. Elion’s stomach turned, anger forgotten as he observed the gruesome work. He wanted to leave, but couldn’t take his eyes off the scene.


    Finally, Gorman pulled a blackened heart from the torso. He clipped several wires to the heart, then plunged this into one of the glass tubes, muttering as he sealed the lid. The tube began to glow yellow-green, the heart pulsating, beating in the sickly pale light.


    Every time I’ve seen someone use Artefin magic, it’s always been accompanied by teal light,  Elion thought.  I wonder why this is different.


    Gorman moved to the next body, but Elion couldn’t watch any longer. He turned and left the building, fighting back bile.