he finally says, his voice hollow. “You can. With a man who can keep you safe. With an actual slayer, a real one. Not a failed one.”
I frown. “What? You’re not failed. Did you not see yourself injure that dragon today? If I ever come back here, it will be with you.”
He looks at me with those black eyes, his face expressionless. “But I didn’t slay it. I never have. The dragons know it. That’s why they will always seek you out. They know I can’t protect you against them. I am a failed slayer. We will go back to your village, and I will do my best to keep you safe on the way. We must leave now. Only get the most important things.” He turns to walk off.
I put a hand on his chest. “What are you saying? You’re not making any sense. You’re as good a slayer as any of the men in the army!”
“A slayer isn’t made. He’s born. I was born a non-slayer. I’ve encountered dragons many times. There is one right outside here, talking to me every day. I can’t kill him, or even attack him. I’m unable to. As he kindly points out, that means I’m not a slayer. I’m a failure. If we don’t leave now, we won’t be able to.”
“Then we stay!” I state, afraid for him. I’ve never seen him like this. “Slayer or not, you have kept me perfectly safe for weeks! And who is this dragon outside? You never told me about that.”
He takes my hand and very gently removes it from his chest. “It’s of no concern. Anyway, you’re going home to your planet. That was the whole point of this Factory. You and I can never stay together. The Ancestors have seen to it that we can’t, and they—”
“Swordmaster Brank’ox!” There’s a hard knock on the door. “It is Vera’zan, Swordmaster! Please let us in!”
Brank’ox draws his sword and tiptoes over to the door, unlocks it without a sound, and then kicks it open with great ferocity. Someone out there goes “ooof” and there is some commotion.
Then Brank’ox comes back, leading two cavemen wearing long furs, white with snow.
“Dolly,” they greet me very formally, one of them rubbing his hip where I suspect the door hit him. “We are Vera’zan and Yrui’nox. From your tribe. We are on a mission from Chief Delyah.”
“Warriors,” I respond politely. “You have come far. Wait here, I’ll get some refreshments.”
“There is no time,” Vera’zan says. “The Chief is concerned about the weather getting colder. She fears a bad chill, like last time. We are ordered to check that everything is in order with you, and to escort you and Swordmaster Brank’ox back to the village while that is still possible. You will be safer there. The snow falls lighter there than here. We have traveled since before sunrise and have not been hindered by it until we reached this area. But it must still happen fast. We have warm furs for both of you.”
I glance at Brank’ox. “I’m not sure I want—”
“Very good, warriors.” Brank’ox cuts me off in his powerful Swordmaster voice. “You will escort Dolly safely home. I will remain here, keeping the Factory safe.”
“The Factory, Swordmaster?”
He points with his hand. “This whole site.”
Vera’zan frowns. “Our orders are to bring both of you back, Swordmaster.”
Brank’ox frowns right back. “But Chief Delyah can’t possibly know how valuable this place is now, Vera’zan. Someone must watch it. I have food; I have furs. I will be fine. Now go.”
Damn his natural authority! “Wait a moment,” I protest. “Brank’ox, what’s going on with you? Don’t be ridiculous!”
He looks right at me. “This is over, Dolly. It was a wonderful few weeks. But soon you can go home to your planet, and I can’t follow. These are good men. They’ll keep you safe. Much better than I could. I’ll get your things from the hut.”
He quickly climbs down to the hut, dislodging large masses of snow that have assembled on the alien beams and girders and struts.
I think fast. What the hell do I do? I don’t want to leave him. But I also don’t want to get stuck here in icy weather that could drop to well below zero, with snow that falls to over my head.
I draw a blank. He’s putting me in an impossible position.
Brank’ox returns, climbing and slipping on the structure, twice almost falling to his death.
He hands me my backpack. “All the gunpowder is in here. If