Pierce and Lei were on the ground when the strangers appeared.

Following Gerrion’s suggestion, they had gone to study one of the massive stone pillars supporting the pavilion while Gerrion, Lakashtai, and Daine climbed onto the plaza. The column was more than ten feet across, and covered with worn inscriptions. Lei was examining the faded words and muttering to herself. Pierce was watching the treeline, bow in hand, and so it was that he saw a wall of weeds and vines silently explode, as if caught in a whirlwind.

Pierce caught the briefest glimpse of the four figures in the shadows of the trees, but he didn’t wait for them to emerge. He stepped back into the narrow space between the pillar and the elevated plaza. Instinct said to ready an arrow, but he held back long enough to grab Lei’s shoulder and pull her along. She glanced up in surprise, and he gestured, using the military symbols she’d learned in their time together: Enemies. Four. North. Silence. She nodded, and her right hand slipped down to the longer of the two wands that she carried at her belt—a slender piece of oak tipped with a glowing pink crystal. An instant later they heard the hissing, metallic voice, flowing around them like a gust of wind.

Be still. Throw down your weapons, and you may yet live.

Now Pierce had an arrow nocked. He slid around the wide pillar, until he caught a glimpse of movement—a warforged scout like the one they’d seen on the beach, its arms studded with blades. In an instant, Pierce considered distance, wind, and the trajectory of his opponent. Even in the dark of night, Pierce was confident that he could strike his foe; he was already considering his second attack, how the enemy might respond in the time it took Pierce to draw and loose a second arrow. He felt a faint twinge of doubt—why were these warforged here? Were they connected to the stranger he’d met at the docks of Stormreach? But he forced it aside. This was war. This was his purpose. All he needed was Daine’s order, and the battle would begin.

The order didn’t come. Seconds passed as Pierce and Lei stood ready, waiting for some sign or signal. Finally the voice came again.

Now your companions abandon you. How … human. The voice was like a sandstorm, particles thrown against the wind to form coherent words. But you remain, brother. Reveal yourself. Your destiny awaits.

Abandon? Brother?

Were they looking for him?

Lei was staring at him, puzzled and concerned, and Pierce found himself gripped by unfamiliar emotion. Usually, his path was crystal clear. Follow orders. Protect his companions. He knew the principles of war, of stealth, the quickest ways to kill, but destiny—it wasn’t a word he had ever given much thought to. He had a purpose, and it was a purpose he had served for almost thirty years. What else could there be?

Over the last year, Pierce had spent much of his time reading, learning about the history of the warforged and the nature of magic, but only now did he truly understand the power of curiosity.

The scout was slowly moving forward, and Pierce could hear the others making their way across the clearing. The larger figure was apparently wearing chain mail or something similar; the air was filled with the sound of metal clinking against metal.

“Your bow!” Lei hissed. She held out one hand. “Quickly!”

Pierce knew what she was planning. Lei could weave magic into a weapon to enhance its power against a specific type of creature, causing even a glancing blow to inflict a terrible injury. If all of their enemies were warforged, such an enchantment could turn the tide of battle, but now strange words loomed in his thoughts. Brother. Destiny.

“Pierce!” Lei snapped. She reached out for the bow, and to his surprise, he found himself stepping back, moving out of her reach. Her eyes grew wide.

He said nothing, relying on military signals to frame his request: silence. Hold position. His mind was aflame with doubt, with fear—was he placing Lei in danger?—but he found himself turning around and slowly stepping out from behind the pillar.

The four scouts were spread across the clearing. They were identical, and as Pierce moved into view they turned to face him in perfect unison, blades rising up and locking along their arms.

It was the man in the center of the clearing who drew the eye. He towered over the scouts; he must have been nine and a half feet in height with a solid, powerful build. His intimidating bulk was enhanced by his cloak, which flowed around him—though it was a still night, with no breeze to justify this motion. Pierce’s instinct said the man was warforged, and certainly there was no sign of flesh on the stranger’s body, but neither could Pierce see any wood, metal plates, or the root-like tendrils that served as the muscles of a warforged. At this distance, he seemed to be covered in chainmail—but Pierce could see nothing beneath the glittering links except darkness.

At last. The stranger’s voice seemed to radiate out in all directions, a dry whisper raised to the sound of a mighty wind. His face was hidden from view. At first Pierce thought the stranger was wearing a hood, but instead there seemed to be a cloud of smoke or mist centered over his head, or perhaps a dense cloud of fluttering insects. I let you slip through my fingers once before, little brother. That will not happen again.

Once before? Pierce had never seen this creature, though there was something strangely … familiar about his voice. “Who are you?”

The stranger’s entire body seemed to ripple, and his armor clinked and chimed. I am death to that which bleeds. I am the wind that scours flesh from bone. I am Harmattan, and I am your brother.

“Harmattan? I see no family resemblance,” Pierce said, “and the wind is not part of my family tree.”

Are you so certain? Do you know what forces went into your making? Do you know why you were brought into this world?

“To protect the nation of Cyre.”

No. That is what you were told, by fleshlings who knew nothing of your true purpose or potential. That is their use for you—it is not your destiny.

Daine! He glanced back, but the plaza was completely empty. There was little cover, and it was too large for Daine to have left it without Pierce hearing the sound of boots on stone. “Where are my friends?”

Your … companions … His voice was dry, but he indicated his disdain with a slow drawling of the word. …left you, it seems. Teleportation, I suspect. Apparently they didn’t care enough to bring you along. What else would you expect, from a former soldier? In his mind, you were built to die for him.

The dull heat of anger was as unfamiliar as curiosity. “So far I have heard nothing but arrogant mockery. If you know anything about me, speak quickly.”

What I know is far less important than what you may learn in my company.

“I do not understand.”

How could you? You have spent your life among creatures of flesh. In their eyes, you are nothing but a tool, a sword to be used in battle until you are broken or cast aside.

“Perhaps it is you who doesn’t understand them.”

And you do? Harmattan’s cloak rippled like smoke, setting off another series of chimes. Pierce realized that the cloak itself was made from metal fragments—making it all the more impossible for it to flow so freely. Your essence is magic, not flesh and bone. Your life is the product of artifice, not blood and lust. You are warforged—but do you even know what this means? You will never find out among humans.

As strange and foreboding as this Harmattan was, he had an undeniable charisma. His windy voice was almost hypnotic, like listening to the surf at night. And his conviction rang through each sentence; there was no question that he believed these words. Curiosity rose again. Pierce knew that Daine and Lei relied on him, but he rarely seemed to be a part of their conversations. He could feel emotions passing between them, but often the triggers made little sense to him, and there were so many little things—the endless quest for food, for shelter. The hours he spent alone as they slept. What would it be like to be among others who had no needs of these things?

Then he looked at the scouts, with their metal teeth and spiked arms. There might be something to Harmattan’s words—but were these the creatures he wished to learn from?

“I will consider your words,” he said at last, “but for now, I think I will remain with my friends, so unless you intend to help me find them, you may as well be on your way.”

We have given much to find you, little brother. You are more important than you know. I told you, you will not slip away again.

“Oh, I think he might.” Lei stepped out from behind the pillar. Light burst from her staff, illuminating the clearing and the long wand in Lei’s hand. Pierce flexed his fingers around the arrow he held at the ready.

Harmattan rustled again. You, he said, and there was a note of amused recognition in his voice. Of course, I should have known you would stay close to your …protector. What sort of friend have you been? I see your scars on his soul. I assure you, you will find me a more dangerous foe.

“Let’s find out.”

Lei raised the wand and there was a brilliant flash of electricity. The bolt smashed into Harmattan. Chips of blackened metal went flying, and when the smoke cleared Pierce saw that the blast had punched a hole straight through the stranger’s chest almost a foot across.

He was still standing. He hadn’t even shifted position, and as Pierce and Lei watched in surprise, the gaping hole slowly filled itself in. It was then that Pierce realized: Harmattan wasn’t covered in a coat of metal shards. His entire body was composed of tiny pieces of metal. He was like a statue made of sand. Some force was holding these particles together—and within seconds, he had simply readjusted his mass to erase the gaping wound.

Satisfied?

“No.”

Lei released a second bolt. This one struck the stranger in the head. No creature of flesh and blood could survive such a blow, but when the flash had faded, Harmattan was still standing. The mystical energy had evaporated the cloud of mist hiding his features, and now Pierce could see the stranger’s head—the head of a warforged soldier. It was blackened, but intact, and Pierce guessed that it was forged from nearly indestructible adamantine, but it was far too small for Harmattan’s massive body; it was about the same size as Pierce’s own head. It was floating above his torso, hovering at least three inches in the air.

Lei’s wand only held enough energy for two blasts, and now that charge was drained. She slipped it back into her belt and gripped her staff in both hands. Pierce had an arrow drawn, and he kept his eyes on Harmattan, wondering if a simple arrow would have any effect on the strange creature.

Neither of them saw the slender figure slip out of the shadows behind Lei until it was too late. A metal elbow slammed into the base of Lei’s skull, followed by a powerful fist. Lei staggered forward, nearly dropping her staff, and turned to face the new foe.

“So you are his lady.”

The warforged had abandoned the robe and cloak she’d used as a disguise in Sharn and Stormreach, and Pierce had to admire her design. The blue enamel on her plating seemed to shift with the shadows, blending into the darkness. Her frame was light and willowy, built for deadly speed instead of brute force. As she spoke, adamantine blades slid into place.

“You should have killed me when you had the chance,” Lei said.

The air rippled around her fingers, and Pierce remembered the scout she had destroyed earlier that day, aand he remembered another battle—a struggle beneath Sharn, when she had turned that same power against him.

“STOP!” He cried, his voice rising to its maximum volume. He unleashed his arrow, striking the ground between the warforged and the artificer. “Lei. Do not fight, and you—if you harm her, I swear that I will destroy you.”

There was a moment of silence. Then the dry voice washed across the clearing. Indigo.

The assassin took a step back, her blades disappearing into her arms. “As you wish.”

Pierce felt a strange fascination as he watched her. The bladed scouts, this Harmattan—they seemed so alien that it was hard to think of them as being members of his own race, but the blue woman—there was something about her, a feeling he couldn’t explain.

“Lei,” he said. “Daine has abandoned us. It seems we will be traveling with these people.”

Harmattan rustled again, and Pierce realized that it was what he did instead of laughing.