 
HAND OF THE RECKONERS

Dana Jeffrey Crotts 
Copyright (C) 2018 Dana Jeffrey Crotts

All rights reserved

A God Man Universe book

ISBN 978-1-5136-3428-9

Cover art by Simon Carr

Graphic design by Micaela Alcaino

Edited by Cindy Marsch, Meredith Tennant

Map by Tim Paul

View map here <https://danacrotts.com/thephobiummap>

## Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Contents

Prelude

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24
Hio Jiangwi stepped up to the podium with his prepared remarks about his discovery. The Pao Pi School for Discovery and Design's president, Yin Beng Pin, called an emergency gathering together because Hio had found an object in the sky, a massive object that moved unlike anything else above. The gnomes of Xipigong studied the skies hoping to find other lands that could be colonized, and to this purpose astronomers watched the skies with advanced "telescopes," devices that allowed the gnomes to map the sky's details. Yin had called the meeting suddenly, stating that every gnome who wished to graduate on time--even graduate at all--must attend.

The Talking Hall got quiet when Hio came forward, the gnomes anticipating an explosive discovery. The astronomical facility president would not otherwise have rushed to schedule a meeting with almost no notice. Participants usually had plenty of time to rework their schedules for a meeting.

"Hello, I am Hio. I work in the tele-lab, in building three. Most of you will know me from my paper on the mathematical relationship between bestums and their parents." Hio had contributed to the field with his discovery that intelligent metal devices known as bestums could mate and have progeny. Most knew him only through that connection. "Today we will not be discussing that. We will be discussing a discovery that I made, one that requires immediate attention."

The gnomes sitting inside the hall came from technical backgrounds and tended to be reserved in temper, but not today. Today they shuffled their feet, tapped on tables, twisted their necks to get a glimpse of him in the packed hall. Hio rarely spoke publicly; this must be important.

Hio turned his attention to his notes on the podium. Suddenly, the writing vanished, the words gone--only the paper remained. Hio did not worry about just what had happened to his notes because his memory was wiped immediately. He looked up at the crowd, trying to remember why he stood there. 

# Prologue

I am a small creature. Very, very, very, very small. Smaller than the parchment that I write this on.

I live in the House of the Gods of the Higher Order, which is where all of the gods reside except for Magno. He is the god of killing, deception, and reckless waste. He owns an entire domain, and I think he has a few buddies down there. I'm not sure, though.

My home is on the floor, in the cracks at the bottom of the wall where the trim is. The floors are marble. I know this and everything else I know from walking around listening to the gods and other people up here. There are all sorts of people here—I guess they are spirits, technically, but they look like people, and they're very big compared to me.

I was the subject of magical experiments in my life. A caster had been practicing a shrinking spell on things and the bastard picked me. He had me in a cage probably just for that reason. Anyways he shrank me and then I fell through the cage mesh. The idiot didn't even think about getting a cage with small holes in it so that the target of his shrink spell wouldn't fall through.

I'm writing this note because I want people to know that the gods sometimes have emotions, or something like emotions. They get angry, sad, and happy.

The gods watch the whole universe, or just everything there is, as I like to say, from the House of the Gods of the Higher Order. They made all of the stuff in the universe—the planets, the stars, the space, the magic, the beings. This stuff is very complicated and it hurts my brain to think about it. Magno watches the universe too, but he mostly just wants to wreck everything, and he may be the force behind the chaos on a planet called Repath Aos Vio.

The gods are angry with the beings on Repath Aos Vio. The people on this planet named it after a god, so you'd think they'd be smart and not anger the gods. But the gods are very angry with them.

The people on this planet are living like beings with significantly lower intelligence than they actually have. They are smart people living like dumb people. This is why the gods are angry, because these people are willfully acting like the lower forms of life.

Anyway, for your information, I died when I was eaten by another creature that was usually a lot smaller than I was, until I got shrunk. I had to die to escape that bastard's lab, but I came here so I must have done something right. I miss my friends back on my planet, but I believe I will see them again when they die and come here.

There is an astral dimension that you go to when you die. Your spirit pops out of your body and then goes to this weird place that looks like it's always night. It's like a dock where a bunch of sailors are waiting to take people to wherever they want to go. You get to pick where to go. You can go to the domains of powerful, strange entities, or to the gods' house, but you may not be allowed to get in to your destination. I'm lucky the gods let me in here.

There are all sorts of spirits flying around the astral dimension and it looks very beautiful except for all the malevolent spirits wandering the Graveyards and Crypts. All sorts of spirits like to stay in that place and never go to other places like the place I'm in now.

The gods expected me when I died too. They knew I was going to die. The gods know everything. They know I'm writing this on a piece of parchment that is bigger than I am. I found it on the floor, must have been a particle from somewhere. I'm using some mushy stuff to write with. I don't know what it is.

The gods also know that I hear them, and that I am going to put these words inside their heralds' scrolls to be delivered to the different worlds. The heralds deliver messages to certain beings on certain planets. Mostly to beings who would be considered righteous and powerful on their own worlds.

If you somehow get ahold of this message I am writing, first let me just say hello! After that you need to listen carefully.

The gods do not like to have to warn beings when the beings are not doing good. The gods believe the beings should know better. Neither do they make a fuss when they decide to do something about the behavior.

Do not anger them.

Repath Aos Vio is in dire trouble.

# Chapter 1

Euphos Lones Trag, hunter of undead and beasts, sat on a sturdy chair looking out a window high above his swamp. His stilt house was built high, mostly to make it difficult for would-be hunters. Hunters looking for him.

He was the enemy of many different beings, mostly beasts and undead and the conspirators who would use these beasts and undead as pawns in their schemes. No doubt there were many bounties on his head.

The beasts in the swamp, such as the vicious, prehistoric looking geizr, functioned like moat beasts, protecting Euphos's stilt house "keep" from intruders. Euphos traveled the waters in a pirogue, careful to keep himself out of the water at all times.

He caught a glimpse of something moving on the land some hundreds of feet from his home. It was that time of the day when beasts hunted prey. The roaming cowgimmes, flightless birds, would be prey to the muscled predators.

Euphos shielded his eyes from the large sun and its two brother suns to get a better look. The world of Repath Aos Vio was lit mainly by a single star; however, two other stars sat in the sky behind the star, one of these a tiny orb barely larger than the planet itself. The other was much farther away, but larger.

The small near star was believed to be a creation of the researchers of a society of engineers and alchemists, and not a creation of the gods. The gnomes of Xipigong denied having anything to do with the small fiery orb, but historical records said otherwise. In any event the star glowed in blues, light blue to a deep dusk blue, and theory had it that the star was put in place in an attempt to control the natural cycling of the Spell Ages.

Euphos leapt out of his window and onto the deck that encircled his stilt house. Then he turned on the ladder and jumped down into his pirogue, catching a few rungs to slow his descent. He landed on the seat and in one motion immediately starting rowing to get a jump on his catch. Or rather Tric's catch.

The swamp waters reeked of sulfur and detritus, signs that the waters had not been disturbed in some time. Upon reflection the hunter couldn't remember the last time he had been on the water. He couldn't remember much about the previous day, or when he last saw Tric. Something like a blank spot in his mind.

He tried to row as quietly and quickly as possible. His pirogue pushed across the water, carving a path through the thick baelweed that floated on the surface. The baelweed peeled apart like a scab that held back blood from trickling onto flesh.

Euphos reached land and hauled his pirogue onto the flats for a fast getaway, then drew his recurve bow, nocking an arrow. He stepped onto the large peat-moss island where he had seen the movement moments before. The clicking of many types of rittits bounced around the wetlands, but Euphos's ears had adjusted to the chatter and he was able to isolate a whimpering sound coming from a dense peat-bog area of the dark land.

Whimpering sounds--never trust the first instinct. The hunter had learned to question his gut reaction over the years. When all your senses tell you that you've injured your quarry and it's time for the death blow, control your impulse: your quarry may know it's being followed. That means it knows to set a trap.

Shadows fell over the tall ellur trees. Their thin branches drew a thousand slivers of black onto the boggy floor and onto the violent lurking predators, like an approaching hail of arrows.

Repath Aos Vio, the forsaken lands of the god of sorrow, was so named because of its eternally overcast skies and its dangerous geography. The land was haunted with denizens of the night like wraiths, spectres, liches, demons, and beasts with black coats and darker urges. Repath Aos Vio had hosted a thousand death cults and necromancer covens over the ages. Aos, the god of sorrow, seemed to have constructed the world from his own bleak essence, like a spirit-broken painter spilling tragedy onto a canvas.

Euphos's home stood in the swamp lands of Phasebios, an island state that was home to Spektros, the capital city of the Spectral Empire. Spektros was located in the southern reaches of the state. The people from Phasebios were known as Biotians, and the Spectral Empire stretched across the continent of Phracia and beyond.

The Spectrul Sea circled the island state of Phasebios and separated it from mainland Phracia. In all, fourteen states made up Euphos's home country of Phracia, Phasebios being one of them. Phracia was a federation with democratically elected state governments all possessing specific independent powers, but all unified under the central power Spektros.

Phracia contained powerful states like Praycium, the home of the largest and busiest port on the continent, and Trobia, home of the most powerful temples and cults on the continent. It had a rich history, complete with its own heroes and mythology, and possessed one overriding, one unifying characteristic: darkness. Its perpetually overcast skies darkened its environments and its teeming populations of undead darkened its spirit. The people of Phracia and their culture had been built around conflicts with the haunting spirits of their home, with many finding strange ways to survive in the shadowy hunting grounds of the shambling horrors that infested every region, having to strike terrible bargains with evil to survive. Rumors had come about that even Spektros's powerful federal forces contained the proceeds of infernal pacts with devils and other damned entities that haunted the country alongside the other horrors.

The hunter slunk through the trees looking for Tric, his Tracker. "Where are you?" Euphos called out.

Immediately, a burst of energy, a being made of magic spell tracings and imbibed with the spirit of life, appeared some yards away from the hunter. He hummed with delight upon seeing his friend.

Tric made his way toward Euphos, floating several feet off the ground like an insect made of light. Given to Euphos by a tribe of shamans from the wildlands of Stum Igbo, the land of the ogres, Tric was the hunter's Tracker.

"Did you find out what that sound was?"

Tric spun around Euphos and then shot ahead and waited, indicating to the hunter to follow. Euphos trailed Tric toward the peat bog, careful to keep his senses attuned to the swamp even though he could and did trust Tric with his life.

The hunter found a boy lying unconscious in the peat bog. He was pale and his skin lined with blue veins. Euphos bent down to inspect. The boy's eyes were rolled back into his head and his mouth was dry and cracked. The boy was obviously suffering from cipsa, an infection that was only transmittable through sexual contact.

Euphos grabbed him and lifted him out of the peat bog. His skin was hot to the touch and he didn't come to when Euphos picked him up.

"I need you to light the way while we take him back," Euphos told Tric. "The sun is setting."

Tric zipped to the lead and lit the descending gloom while the hunter carried the boy as quickly as he could back to the pirogue. A grinding growl, deep like a raging waterfall, bounded through the trees. Euphos recognized the threatening call as coming from a roemanx, a large nocturnal hunter with a velvety pelt and ghostly eyes. He would not want to face the roemanx with his hands full.

Tric's humming grew louder and his fluorescence pulsed like a flame fed by bellows when he heard the growl. The Tracker understood the danger they would be in as soon as the sun set.

Euphos picked up his pace. The peat was thick and the extra weight of the boy was causing him to sink too deep to walk comfortably.

When they reached the water flats where the pirogue sat, Tric circled around the boat to make sure no--

A geizr leapt out of the water, seeking to sink its diamond-hard incisors into the Tracker. Tric flitted to the side and above the boat to avoid getting swallowed by the raging killer.

Euphos set the boy down and drew his bow. The geizr was climbing up the side of the pirogue to catch Tric in its jaws and its bulk almost flipped the boat over.

Euphos carefully aimed his shot, then loosed an arrow that pierced the back of the geizr's scaled neck. The shot stunned it, but the beast quickly regained its bearings and lunged toward the shore. Geizrs were semi-intelligent and could detect sources of danger to some degree.

Euphos knew he would have to hit the beast in the head to incapacitate it. A second shot hit the creature in the face, slightly missing its brain matter, and now the beast looked like it had two wooden ears sticking up from its head.

The hunter drew a long sword from a scabbard on his back and stood in front of the approaching beast. Its maw opened wide with a roar that numbed Euphos's eardrums. It launched itself at the hunter, but at the last second pivoted to clamp down on the boy's foot. The geizr dragged the boy like a human shield in front of Euphos.

Tric floated up to the geizr and shocked the creature's tail while it was focused on Euphos. The Tracker's shocks weren't powerful enough to be considered a weapon, but they distracted the beast enough for Euphos to slip in an attack. And at just the right time.

A rumbling snarl rolled in from behind the hunter, almost distracting him from his opportunity. Euphos leapt and flipped his sword, punching it into the neck of the geizr. The beast dropped the boy from its grasp and then wiggled violently, trying to free itself from the impaling.

Euphos grabbed the boy and shot a glance back and saw two roemanxes approaching, their muscular forms moving quickly and silently, and so low they almost slid along the ground. He'd have to leave his sword. It was keeping the geizr pinned into the swamp.

The hunter rushed to toss the boy into the boat as he dove right after, careful to not crush the boy with his weight. They hit hard and the boat bounced in the water but did not sink. Euphos felt the top of his wrist spike poke into his body as he landed on his forearms, reassuring the hunter that he could defend himself in close combat if the roemanxes pursued.

By the time Euphos righted himself he heard the beasts on the shore thrashing and clawing at each other. The roemanxes surrounded the geizr, and then one leapt on its back. The geizr had been able to pull the sword from the ground and meet its attacker, but the powerful claws of a roemanx were hooking into the wounded beast, snapping its bones as they dug toward its heart. The roemanxes sunk their teeth into the geizr's throat on both sides and the beast was ripped in two.

The silky night-black pelts of the roemanxes were covered in gore from the battle. Euphos could see their ghostly forms outlined by the bright white fluorescence of the geizr's blood. As the sun set on the horizon, its light already shrouded by the cloud cover, darkness took the land and the hunter rowed himself and the boy back to his stilt house.

\- * -

Although the skirmish had not been long, it exhausted Euphos, who had already spent the entire day checking traps he had set in various locations around the swamp. He had gathered enough meat to sustain him and his . . .

Euphos's mind went blank. _What was I thinking about?_

The bouts of blankness. The spells of forgetfulness. He was forgetting something, something very important.

The hunter sat in a chair at the only table inside his hovel. The sun had risen hours earlier and he had awakened to find the boy still unconscious. He bandaged up the boy's leg, using an ointment made from swamp plants to help heal the wounds inflicted by the geizr.

Sitting at his table he stared at a map of Phasebios, a map he had used for years to travel around the island state. A memory seemed to be just out of reach, seemed to slip its foot into the doorway of his mind, only to then turn around and disappear like a spectre. Was it something on the map? Some location? Some piece of information about a job or a landmark?

The island state of Phasebios had a remarkable history. The god of civilization, Bas, had dictated the Keys to Empire to the founders of the Biotian civilization centuries before. The Keys were principles required for the Frissians, people from the continent of Phracia, to avoid large-scale wars in their attempt to bring law and order to the continent.

The resulting governing institutions required by the Keys helped to bring order to the wildlands of the continent and prevented untold deaths, wars, and revolutions. However, some--the followers of Ides, the god of free will--believed there were better ways to bring about law and order.

Euphos was ready to take another job. He had hunted monsters, often undead, his whole professional life. His family had been killed during an undead raid on their village. He was almost killed himself, and the scars behind his hairline ran all the way to his neck.

When a cough came from the bedroll in the corner of his hovel, Euphos stood to inspect and found the boy coming to. His skin burned hot and Euphos put a wet blanket over his body to cool him down. The cipsa disease caused burning fevers and spells of confusion, and victims of the disease often had to be restrained to prevent them from wandering away from their homes. The boy probably had wandered to the swamp from a small village some distance away.

The boy let out a long groan, and Euphos sat next to him on a chair and lifted his head to get him to drink water. The boy's hands instinctively reached for the cup and he gulped down the contents while his eyes were still closed.

Tric moved close to the boy. The light from his hovering body and the warm humming seemed to calm him, and moments later he opened his eyes.

His irises were yellow, another symptom of the disease. Euphos guessed that he had been infected relatively recently because his veins had not become entirely visible. People who had carried the disease for long periods looked as if maps of the world had been drawn onto their bodies.

"I am Euphos. Can you tell me your name?"

The boy slowly turned his head and looked up at the hunter. He was no more than thirteen or fourteen years old, relatively young to have already contracted the disease. Euphos had seen entire towns turn into infirmaries because of cipsa infections. Prostitutes unaware of being infected or not displaying symptoms probably enabled the disease to take hold. It wasn't long before the pestilence made its way into the homes of the aristocrats and townspeople. Something had happened to the very nature of the cities. Something was destroying the people's senses.

Taverns and whorehouses once confined to the seedier sections of towns had multiplied outward until the residential areas of cities became indistinguishable from the centers of ill repute. The trend was everywhere and the relationship between man and woman seemed to be breaking apart, reduced to merely the physical component. Marriage was fading from existence and with it the stabilizing effects it had upon Phracia.

"I am Tiskus." The boy's head was red hot. Euphos draped a wet rag over his forehead. Tiskus turned his attention to Tric. "That looks like a tracing. But it's floating around."

"You're right. Tric is a tracing."

"Can he talk?"

"No. He communicates by--"

Tric grew very bright and bounced up and down in the air. His humming got louder.

"Well, he communicates by doing stuff like that."

Tiskus stared intensely at Euphos's Tracker. "Fascinating."

Euphos had received Tric as a reward for completing a quest. He had been contracted by an ogre shaman to catch a spirit that had been torturing his tribe with nightly possessions. The possessed ogres slaughtered others within the tribe, and the entire village was wracked with terror. Euphos demanded a high fee for the job. The lands of the ogres were wild, and anyone, especially a human, risked life and limb even setting foot inside them.

Tric was a gift beyond the gold talins he was paid for capturing the spirit. An ogre caster cast a spell, tracing the spell's symbol in the air. The tracing, like all magic tracings, contained the power of a specific spell, a spell powered by arcane magic. The spell could be used when its owner demanded. Instead of storing the tracing for later use, the ogre handed it to a shaman who then imbued the magic tracing with the spirits of the wild. Tric was born, an entity of magic energy, possessing a consciousness granted by the shaman's nature spirit magic.

The ogre shaman suggested that Euphos was himself a mystical energy rather than flesh and blood. He was a force or an energy capable of incredible acts and not as much a mortal being. And so Tric, the being made of pure magic and given life artificially, embodied the essence of the hunter.

"Can I get one of those?" the boy asked.

"First you need to tell me how you ended up in the swamp and then where you're from. We need to get you back to your home."

The blood flushed into Tiskus's cheeks. "If my mom finds out about me I'm a goner."

"Exactly what do you mean?"

Tiskus could not bear to tell the hunter.

"You have a serious infection," the man said, "and the only hope you have is finding a cleric who believes you worthy of healing." Cipsa was not fatal, but it required divine magic.

"Do you know any?"

"I do, but they will want a steep fee for performing the healing."

"Nice. My mom is very rich," the boy said, "about as rich as a vagrant who sleeps on a pile of hay."

"Where is she?"

Tiskus told Euphos they lived in the village not far from the swamp. His mother was a beggar who was able to get some work spinning cloth. He had never known his father, a situation that was more the rule than the exception now. Marriage was losing its meaning.

Euphos's connections in Spektros had reported that its incoming governors, the assemblymen and the like, were foregoing wives entirely and simply finding momentary partners in the taverns and alleyways. The entire family lineage structure that had held so much weight in political dealings had now almost become a legend. None of the original Biotian surnames of the founders of the Spectral Assembly nor their political descendents could be found. In fact, many in the assembly had no surnames at all.

The farmers on the outskirts of the cities had resisted the degradation; however, as time wore on and each generation forgot the values of its parents, even they found their families breaking apart. Euphos had traveled the continent of Phracia many times during his life and had seen the trend across the land. He often wondered why he was so sensitive to it. When he looked at Tiskus he remembered.

"I'll let you stay one day. Tomorrow we take you home."

Tiskus was happy. He felt a security around Euphos. Something that he had never felt before. "And what about you?" he asked. "You have a wife?"

Euphos's body shook, as if with a small seizure. The boy's question cut into him like a colossus blade.

The hunter dropped to his knees, forced to hold his consciousness together like a shattered vase. He stared at the ground as the whole world spun around him.

Tiskus watched Euphos collapse like dirty clothes into a hamper. He was too weak from his fever to offer any help, still drowsy.

Moments passed before Euphos could put together any rational thought. Memories of a woman, dark hair, long, swirled around his mind.

"Pressia."

This was that memory, that nagging thought that concealed itself so well in his mind, like an assassin perched atop a tree, waiting for quarry to pass underneath.

"Pressia, yes, she is my wife. She should be back soon . . ."

Just as he finished his statement, his mind blanked again. All the revelations that had overtaken him for a moment disappeared, and he found himself still kneeling next to Tiskus, holding a wet rag in his hand and wondering what the blank spot in his mind was. A thought just out of reach wanted to show itself, but somehow the hunter could not let it through . . .

A man in a dirty brown cloak stood at one corner of the town square. He proselytized in Lectidomes, the capital of the state of Thephobium, in the western part of Phracia. This state was home to the Council for Frissian States, a body of representatives from across the continent. The council held little control over the Spectral Empire, mostly serving as an assembly for the states to express their expected good will. It was a body not specified in Bas's Keys to Empire. This capital city held both its own local government and that larger council. Lectidomes was a center of government, diplomacy, and much business now taking place in the town square.

"Hello, my brothers and sisters," cried the man in brown. "Please listen to my words! We are at a crossroads in time! It is time to throw off the evils that we have been burdened with for centuries! Free yourselves from the oppressions of the past!"

The crowds did not heed him as they pushed into one another and searched the town square for goods. Being too busy with daily life, the people did not notice the growing presence of the Cult of Revolution in their city, and dismissed the cult if they did notice. But the cult would not be ignored. They were infiltrating all manner of professions and would use every outlet possible to disrupt the Frissians, including traveling bands of bards and other performance arts. A stage on one side of the square, opposite the proselytizer, hosted the cult's play.

"Hello, my good man," said one of the actors to another on the stage. "Let me inform you that you do not have to worry. The cares of yesterday no longer need to burden you today." He waved his arms expansively and continued. "You have wasted years of your life trying to support a family. Take this opportunity to free yourself from those chains. Let them fend for themselves."

The creditors came to repossess the man's home, but they insisted that he view this as an opportunity for a new start to his life. It wasn't a tragedy--they were relieving him of the oppression of caring for a family.

"Just think," one of the creditors added to the earlier assurances, "you no longer have to waste your emotions on your immediate family. You can now serve humanity. Your family is everywhere. Your family is all living things--the ogres, the trees, the elves. They are your blood, just as much as your sons or daughters are."

Just then a loud cacophony erupted from an adjacent side of the town square. Several merchants were chasing a man who had stolen their wares. The thief pushed through the crowd, shoving people to the ground and climbing over their bodies in an attempt to flee.

Guards stationed at the corners of the square watched events unfold. A merchant scurried up to a guard. "Sir, that man stole my frocks! Nine talins worth. I need them back."

The guard did not move or reply.

"Hello?!" the shopkeeper asked, confused.

"You will back up or you will be heading to a cell," growled the guard. "Stand down."

A look of disbelief took the merchant's face. He retreated and returned to his stand, where he gathered up his belongings and left the square in a righteous furor.

The brown-robed man watched the situation intently and then professed to the crowds, "This man, he has been taken! The thief has stolen his wares, but you must ask yourself, who is the thief? The merchant or the one who needed wares that only the merchant possessed? The 'merchant' no doubt commandeered those wares from the hides of his brothers and sisters!" The two or three who had gathered to hear him nodded their heads.

Looming over the square was the House of Rights, an ornate building that housed a body of the same name. The elected legislators of Lectidomes met inside to debate and craft law. Lensus, a city representative, watched the chaos of the square from his chamber in the top story of the House.

Lensus noted the brown-robed man. He had seen proselytizers espousing the same anti-tradition views across the continent. Lensus had visited many Frissian cities in the line of duty.

Sitting on the other side of Lensus's desk, behind him, was Schute, a cleric of Vursa, the goddess of life, death, and spirit. Lensus had known Schute since becoming an assemblyman. The cleric helped as an ambassador to the temples of Vursa and often counseled the assembly on issues relating to the domain of the goddess of life. Their relationship had become closer in recent times as they discovered their similar conclusions about the goings-on in the states of Phracia.

"Have you discussed the state of things with the goddess?" Lensus asked as he stood gazing on the scene below.

"She says we have more than just problems in the cities. There are epic things happening in the spirit dimension also. The spirit dimension does not necessarily reflect our world, so this confluence of trends between the two could be unrelated. Nevertheless . . . Vursa did not give specifics, rarely does."

"The rise in interest in this cult's message--I see a pattern between it and other things." Lensus turned to face the cleric. "Schute, we are in serious trouble."

Schute nodded gravely. "I traveled all the way from Theodystynes to tell you that this observation is a unified one, just as you say. Are we safe to talk about it here?"

Lensus shook his head.

"Let me fix that." Schute raised his hand and closed his eyes. He spoke a call to the goddess of life. A shimmering light pulsed from his hand, then dissipated into a thousand streamers of light, each racing around the office until they had created an unseen barrier around them. The lights disappeared.

"These cult members are everywhere on the continent," he continued. "From Phyppios all the way to the southern reaches, nearly to Chwangau."

At the southern end of Phracia gathered the horrors of the continent, known across Repath Aos Vio. Undead roamed the land freely in Chwangau. Lances--undead beings who fed off the living, devouring their psyches, spirits, and their blood--built cities that prospered everywhere. Skeletal armies commanded by liches drove the borders of Chwangau ever northward. A great force of Spectral Empire units defended Eudybium, the Frissian country that touched the land of the undead and extended up to Stum Igbo, where the Spectral Empire positioned vast forces to defend Phracia.

"Their sermon . . ." Lensus mused, his thumb under his chin. "They want to erase history, to create a whole new order, one in which the common man is rootless.

"I listen to them in the square. It is not just these cult people. It's everywhere. It's art, it's a painting depicting a man in a brothel. It's a bard singing a song about living like a drifter, about living like a spoiled aristocrat with no emotional ties to anyone. This is beyond a spontaneous expression of like-minded individuals. No doubt society would and should support people with different ways of living. However, this ideological movement is ubiquitous. It has to have been arranged by some central authority."

The cleric nodded. "Who stands to gain from the effects of this change?"

"Someone who wants to disrupt the very order of things. Seems to me to suggest an enemy of Phasebios. Someone wants to weaken Spektros's hold on its empire."

One could find many strange happenings in the states of Phracia: psychic wars, hauntings, beasts of legend such as Raven Dragons. One of the more recent happenings had been the spread of the Cult of Revolution. This loose family of individuals taught that all history was a mistake. All that could ever be considered good would be radically different from what had been. Their adherents had proselytized across the continent. They had begun, however, in Theodystynes and had spread to every corner of Phracia. The cultists took up spaces on town corners and built compounds deep in the Forests of Shadow. Their followers were encouraged to abandon the life of routine and to "live without fear."

"Then again, maybe the Biotians are finding it too difficult to manage such large holdings," said Schute. "If they could weaken the constitutions of their vassals they would find things easier to control. This could definitely make controlling their empire even more difficult. It's risky."

The Biotians could move large forces around Phracia in ways that other states could not fathom. Many believed the Biotians to possess powerful god-granted magic, their standing as Phracia's aristocrats being a gift for the goodwill inherent in their people. On the other hand, some suggested that their powers came from demons, from striking terrible bargains with evil entities. Whatever the case, the continent was vast and controlling that much land took an incredible amount of resources. 

# Chapter 2

"We will be assembling soon," said Lensus. "Please bring up concerns about what we see going on. I will play the part of skeptic to your concerns and will try to draw out information about the possible culprits behind this--in personal discussions with the assembly."

Schute went silent after Lensus's request. The cleric understood that if he criticized the Cult of Revolution he could be putting his life in danger. The sinister nature of many of the governors of Phracia was well known. They would not hesitate to kill even if it meant they were killing a representative of a godly order.

"You can phrase it this way to avoid looking like you are actively seeking to find out who is behind the cult," Lensus assured him. "Something like this: 'I would like to ask if there is a way to stop this so-called Cult of Revolution from harassing our temple goers? Some of them are trying to lead our followers away from the gods.'"

Phrased this way it would look like Schute was simply concerned with having Vursa's worship disturbed, something that would be foolhardy. The gods did not like to interfere in the affairs of beings directly, but they could be angered if others tried to disrupt their followers' devotion.

Schute agreed and the two friends made their way to the main hallway of the House of Rights. The assembly was meeting to discuss the state of the border between the Frissian state of Eudybium and Stum Igbo, the wildlands of the ogres and gnolls. Conflict between the two civilizations raged on and the land between them was a bloody battlefield.

The main chamber of the House of Rights was a pentagon with five sections of benches facing an open central dais. Murals of the history of Frissian battles and a scene of Bas handing the Keys to Empire to the Biotians were painted on the chamber ceiling.

A chatter of laughing and greetings filled the vestibule and the assembly chamber. Lensus and Schute took seats on opposite sides of the room. The representatives took their seats as the session president took to the dais.

Magic was banned in the assembly room, magic both arcane and divine, and if there were any enchantments detected on any assembly member, whether magically enchanted items or spells cast on an individual, they would be physically unable to enter the chamber. A powerful ward guarded against magical manipulation of events.

"Let us come to order," announced the president. "We are here to discuss the situation on the northern border of Eudybium. But first I would like to allow some time to discuss local matters." The president, a ranking member of the assembly of Lectidomes, unfolded a parchment. "We are having a parade tomorrow to celebrate the Coming of the Winds, the historic celebration of the battle between Lectidomes and the ancient undead known as the spindle."

Lensus searched the faces of assemblymen. Many he did not recognize. Several he knew very thoroughly. The premier of Lectidomes, Chayzchon Skus, sat at the front row of an adjoining section.

"Long ago, warriors from our city bravely fought the vicious spindle in a battle," continued the president. "Had they not won, it would have spelled disaster for us. It is said that the day of the battle, the spindle had nearly annihilated the entire fighting force of Lectidomes until a single archer with a single arrow set the entire army of spindle on fire."

Gasps could be heard in the crowd, though all knew the old story.

"A powerful wind raised that single fire to a raging inferno and saved the city. The parade commemorates this event. This year it starts midday on the morrow."

Schute stood to ask his question. "Milord, my name is Schute, faithful servant of Vursa."

The chamber turned and looked at the cleric.

"Milord, I will be participating in the parade; however, I am worried. I have costumes set up for an ensemble of Vursa's faithful, but I am afraid that this new cult, the Cult of Revolution, will disrupt the entire event. They are already causing problems for our followers."

Lensus stood. "Good sir," he declared, "I think you are being paranoid. This 'cult' is at most benign entertainment." He looked around the chamber. "Is there anyone else who would disagree with this cleric's concerns?"

A representative of another city in Theodystynes spoke up. "These cretins are everywhere. They are much more than benign."

Another representative from the state of Cryssium replied. "The Cult of Revolution has spread like a pox."

A murmur rolled over the crowd. Lensus had lit the fuse, and he just had to wait for the explosion to root out the guilty. He scanned the assemblymen's faces.

Chayzchon Skus's assistant, Veryas, stood. Her long red hair and her dark dress caught the eyes of the assemblymen. "We must remember we are a free state," she said. "These cultists may exercise their rights to speech."

Lensus watched Skus's face. The premier attempted to smile, yet he could not hide his discomfort, discomfort that possibly came with the topic at hand. The assembly quieted down as Veryas spoke.

This was no clear evidence that Skus was behind the cult, but one thing was certain: it seemed the assistant to the premier felt it necessary to defend the freedom of cultists to proselytize. In the entirety of his service to the assembly of Lectidomes, Lensus had never heard so much as a word about freedom coming from the lips of Veryas or any one of the premier's assistants. Why did the premier suddenly defend the Cult of Revolution's rights of speech when they were causing this much chaos?

The "butler" of the domain of spirits floated across the vast grey-white plains of the ultimate destination for spirits: the astral dimension. Vursa, the goddess of life, death, and spirit, ruled the spirit dimension much as Stadia, the god of physical properties and forces, ruled the laws of the physical universe. A god controlled a specific domain and made all the rules that defined that domain.

Cjonah, the butler, was a lithe ghost, and he wore a fancy suit with shredded lapels and cuffs that fluttered in the soft spectral winds. He made it his life to know the goings-on inside the astral dimension, and he kept his relationship with Vursa in good standing at all times, helping to guide and direct the spirits who shed their physical bodies to come to the land of the ghosts. The spectral winds pushed across the spirit dimension like the spectres who inhabited the perpetually dark-skied world, and Cjonah knew every current that could help move spirits to their destinations.

The astral dimension was a transient place, a weigh station for spirits on their way to either the gods' provinces or any one of the planes ruled by other powerful entities. The god of evil, Magno, had created a province for those beings that lived in conditions of destructive chaos, and his domain encompassed and touched infinity, as did the domains of all other gods.

Various powerful entities controlled different dimensions as well. Demons, devils, and neutral deities like the spirit of nature, that governed as "forces," ruled a wide multitude. Benevolent angels and other beings constructed places for spirits to travel to. Boundless dimensions were being formed and reformed in the eternal growth of existence.

Cjonah helped the spirit world by instilling a certain sense of familiarity to the vast and possibly infinite lands of the astral dimension. His suit and open disposition made him appear to be a butler of sorts, a being who did his best to help others find their way through the spirit world.

The ghost butler strolled--hovered--around the Vilewood Cemetery, his home since he could remember. The skies were dark as always, though the highways of spirits drifted throughout, and their bright forms drew a hundred rivers of light as they sailed through the heavens.

Tombstones gave the cemetery hill a terraced structure, the graves of departed spirits laid to final rest filling the cemetery up to the gates. Spirits could suffer a final death inside the astral dimension in much the same way a person could die in the physical universe. Violent spirits roamed and could attack their fellow spirits with any variety of blade or arrow that they could find, and spirits could suffer fatal injuries that would result in their permanent destruction. They would never return to life save by the hands of the gods. Objects could be forged by spiritsmiths inside the astral dimension, and they used the elements culled from the lands of the spirit dimension to build their goods.

A spirit had many choices when it arrived in the astral dimension. It could make the journey to any one of countless destinations, or it could make its life in the astral dimension itself; it did not have to leave. Cjonah was the custodian of these indeterminate spirits too. He helped them build a semblance of community, and peripheral to the Vilewood Cemetery, beyond the gates, spirits did construct a settlement.

Cjonah's form flickered as he flew up the path toward the settlement. His image faded into and out of sight, each reappearance slightly farther down the path. The land looked like dirt from the physical dimension, made from a bluish-grey-brown substance that could be picked up and reformed much like clay.

As Cjonah moved toward the settlement he could make out a figure approaching in the distant sky. Its massive wings beat regularly like a machine, and as the figure approached Cjonah knew exactly what--or who--it was.

\- * -

Tiskus's mother did not thank Euphos for bringing him back to her, even though he was healed. In fact, she asked the hunter to take the boy himself. Her many other children had been given to relatives or simply abandoned in the cities and she could not support herself, let alone her children. She had no room in her small cabin, more a room than a dwelling, and Euphos did not wish to return Tiskus to her care, but he could not raise the boy himself with his current profession often taking him away from home. Euphos left Tiskus with his mother and said a prayer that Vursa might protect the boy.

Euphos had brought ailing Tiskus to the town of Hippogenes to visit a cleric of Vursa who healed the boy, and Euphos spent most of his remaining savings paying for the service. The clerics of Vursa freely gave healings, but the vast outbreaks of disease had taxed their powers beyond their abilities, and the payments, along with donations, were necessary to support the clerics and the temple hospitals.

A cleric recognized Euphos as a bounty hunter of undead, since he possessed a blade made of ghosydium, a rare metal found in mines around the continent of Phracia, particularly in the region of Phines. There, large numbers of spectral undead had maintained dominion, and his having such a blade marked Euphos as a hunter. Ghosydium could affect animating spiritual forces, a blade of it able to cut through spirit itself.

In addition to possessing a weapon made of the rare metal, the hunter had a powerful ability to interact with undead: the power of astral projection. He could detach his spirit from his body and venture into the spirit regions. A chance meeting with the Necromancers of Terminal Damnation had brought Euphos to the point of death, and only those who had come to the brink could develop the potential to detach their spirits from their bodies. Euphos had come to view his encounter with the necromancers as a boon.

Euphos gained vast amounts of information from the wise spirits inside the spirit world that helped him with his bounties. This gave the hunter an edge when battling strange and dangerous beings like the skeletal dirjir, a class of creatures made of reforged bone.

"Ghosydium is becoming an even rarer sight in these times. You are the first bounty hunter I have seen in a long while," the cleric commented. "We depend on you to keep undead at bay. Rumors have it that there are forces hunting the bounty hunters themselves, forces that wish to see Phracia taken by undead. Take care, my friend." The cleric granted Euphos a blessing that would repel evil, calling on his goddess with a prayer. Light surrounded the hunter, then flashed, giving Euphos a golden glow around his body. The light would be painful to undead if they came close and would last until Euphos got home.

"Will I see you again?" Tiskus asked.

Euphos did not know what to say. He did not have time to watch Tiskus, and if he promised the boy he would visit then that would be one more responsibility that Euphos carried. And it would be one too many. He simply had too much to do with his life in the swamp and he did not like to keep lingering relations with people. He would have to end his relationship with Tiskus to avoid hurting the boy's feelings when he could not visit.

"You must help your mother make a living, help her find a good man, Tiskus. Find work for both you and her and stay out of trouble. I can't be a father at this point in time," Euphos answered. Tiskus did not cry, but he wanted to. Euphos shook the boy's hand and took him back to his mother.

With a farewell to Tiskus, Euphos left Hippogenes and traveled back to the swamp. He kept a stable outside the swamp, paying a local rancher to maintain his steed, a powerful specimen bred by the horsemen of Cygriossus. Tric accompanied the hunter back to his swamp, reminding Euphos that it would get dark soon by darkening his body like the sky when the suns set. They would need to hurry.

The hunter had developed a keen sense of communication with his Tracker. Tric's slightest movements, his fluctuations in light and humming, could relay an amazing amount of information. They had been together for so long the hunter could reply to his Tracker with a series of his own buzzes and gestures that mimicked Tric's.

When the duo made it back to the house, Euphos tied the pirogue to the small dock and stepped onto the firm planks. Something at the back of his mind, some thought, an important urge, pushed itself into his consciousness but stopped just short of showing itself. As he climbed the ladder the hunter systematically went over the events of the day to try to pry loose some clue or some event that would trigger the unfurling of the nagging mystery. He could not remember anything except his skirmish in the swamp. The days prior were lost to him, even the day he rescued Tiskus; the details disappeared as if he'd been asleep. He would need to check his supplies; he could not remember the last time he'd checked his traps around the swamp that provided him with his catches. Euphos had to rely on his hunger to determine when he had eaten last because he could not remember.

Worries swirled around the hunter's mind--something had gone terribly wrong if he could not draw even the faintest memory about the days prior, even weeks, maybe months. Maybe he should have stayed in Hippogenes and sought help from the clerics. All the worries stopped, though, when he stepped to the entryway to his home and immediately felt a presence.

"Euphos."

The hunter stood in the entryway looking up at a figure that no one else would have been able to see. An enigmatic envoy, a messenger visible only to those connected to the astral dimension, the Storied Lighthouse stood inside Euphos's home. The envoy had traveled from the astral dimension, able to project his countenance inside the minds of people who traveled the grey world.

His glossy black-feathered wings spanned the interior of the home, with a thin ratty black cloth hanging down the lengths of the wing arms, a cloth that looked like it had been robbed from the grave of ancient royalty.

The Lighthouse stood tall, and his long blonde-white hair spilled upon his shoulders. His tight-fitting clothes were black, except for lines of white winding up his torso. His head and neck were obscured by a cloudy white glow, something like the light spell cast by a divine cleric in the throes of a spider-webbed dungeon.

"Cjonah would like to see you, hunter," said the Lighthouse in a breathy whisper of a voice. The Lighthouse handed Euphos a metal coin. On it was written in the ancient language of Sabine the phrase "Os Len des Am."

Euphos nodded and then sat on his bed. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Moments went by, then the hunter found himself staring at the dark world of the astral dimension.

Vilewood. One of countless small towns littering the astral dimension.

Rows of shacks formed streets, or rather aisles, and ghostly lanterns hung on vilewood poles at frequent intervals within the spectral town. A dull glow clung to the land like a fog, the matter making up the land having a ghostly essence similar to that of the inhabitants themselves.

"I have not seen you in a while. You busy?" asked the butler as he and Euphos walked along an aisle between shacks where spirits did not sleep but got away from others to reflect.

"I've been tending to my mansion in the swamp," Euphos said, "thinking about traveling to Spektros to find a job."

Even though Euphos injected casual sarcasm into his reply, Cjonah detected a disturbance within his friend. The hunter did not look up when he answered, choosing to focus on the ground as if distracted by something.

Cjonah did not want to push too hard to find out exactly what it was, however. Euphos was a very private man and he did not wear his emotions, but even though they were there, the butler understood it would be best to get down to business.

"Euphos, there are things coming about within the astral dimension that are going to have a huge impact on your planet."

The butler spoke of a warlord within the spirit world named Vau Geru who had built a massive spirit army. A knight of a powerful order in his earthly days, Geru had gathered up an army of spirits and moved across the spectral lands, ruthlessly conquering the scattered spirit towns.

Spirits populated the astral dimension in fits and starts, often wandering the spectral lands to find any number of things--new towns, priceless spectral artifacts, uncharted territories. The distance between towns was unfathomable in physical dimension, so the spirits traveled along the spectral winds that blew through the lands, gusting to and fro, but always gusting toward some point. There was no air in the astral dimension; the "winds" were spiritual forces that would guide the spirits in the vast dimension to the domains of the gods linked by the spectral highways.

The wildlands of the astral dimension were dangerous. Inhabiting the connecting spaces between the towns were wicked populations like songscots, spectral murderers who entranced spirits with beautiful musical compositions while their brethren crept from behind to slash their unsuspecting victims. The musical murderers traveled the wildlands in packs, much like the wild spectral animals that inhabited the ghostly land.

Certain spells or weapons could injure a spirit, and it could be wiped from existence if enough damage was done, suffering a final death unrelated to the spirit's separation from its fleshly complement. Vau Geru had committed spirit genocide like this in a historic magnitude, taking a land south of Vilewood, beyond the Spectral Canyons, in the region of the Brightstone, to build an entire civilization with the spoils of his conquest.

"Geru has built up an enormous force. We have learned through the Lighthouse's frequent missions that he seems to be moving toward the Asylum of the Wracked, a place where spirits suffering from--" Cjonah paused a moment. He sensed this was not the time to tell Euphos what he was about to tell him.

Euphos looked at Cjonah expectantly, waiting for his friend to finish his sentence. He knew something was wrong.

Cjonah continued. "It is a place where spirits suffering from a dislocation, a sort of dissonance or discord, go to live."

"I don't understand," Euphos said. "Isn't any spirit who chooses to stay in the astral dimension rather than moving on to the gods' domains suffering from a discord?"

"In a way that may be true, but these spirits are constitutionally stricken. Their spiritual anatomy, the division of their spirit, is broken. They have parts that don't function smoothly together, parts that are ill-fitted, like a wagon with a broken axle."

Euphos locked eyes with the ghost. He knew what he was going to say. He had known this all his life, somewhere behind his conscious mind, in the depths of his psyche. Moments went by.

His problems with his memory in recent times were just a new complication, something unrelated to the general feeling of unrest that had plagued him since his first memories as a child. Since he could remember he had possessed a feeling that he did not fit in with the rest of humanity, an unsettling feeling--as if he stood on a rain-slick precipice, ever seconds from slipping to his doom. He could never quite solve the puzzle inside himself, could never make everything harmonious in his life, nor even get close. His life had become like a wagon trying to go up a hill, its broken axle dragging on the dirt path . . .

"We have known one another for much time. Why did you not tell me this long ago?"

Cjonah had just recently discovered himself that Euphos was indeed a Wracked Soul, a spirit that was fundamentally flawed. The goddess herself, Vursa, had explained it. Euphos had been able to hide his inner turmoil exceedingly well and the butler of the spirit dimension could not fathom what the hunter felt inside. Most Wracked Souls became raving lunatics, their chaotic essences driving their fleshly vessels mad.

"Euphos, this affliction makes you indispensable for the task at hand. If Geru conquers the asylum spirits, your world, the Spectral Empire, will not be able to maintain its hold."

Cjonah did not have to utter the words. He knew that Euphos knew.

Euphos needed answers.

If he was indeed one of these Wracked Souls, why did that make him a perfect candidate to save them?

He understood just why the Spectral Empire would unravel if Geru conquered the spirit dimension. The empire maintained its dominance across Phracia because it could reanimate its fallen soldiers. They had found a way to access the spirit dimension and then open a portal to Phracia, allowing them to recruit spirits into their armies. When a soldier of the Spectral Empire was killed in combat, his body would immediately be reanimated with a new spirit, a spirit from the spirit dimension that had agreed to return to the physical dimension. This allowed Spektros a military advantage in war that enabled them to conquer the entire continent of Phracia.

"Why do the soldiers require the spirits of the wracked to be reanimated?"

"They don't. It's just that these wracked spirits are available. They jump at the chance to battle. Because of their flawed nature, they love conflict."

Thinking back over his life, Euphos understood things a lot better. As much as he thought of himself as a person who tried to minimize conflict, he had chased trouble like a masochist. The only way he could make things seem right in his life was to involve himself in things that would distract him from the chaos inside, and this is why he had become a bounty hunter. Being stuck on a rain-slick precipice helped keep him sane.

"Number one," asked Euphos, "is there hope for me and the Wracked Souls? And number two, why should I be the one risking my neck? Yes, I love my home, but there are a hundred others that would probably do a better job. I'm a lone hunter, not a general."

"On the first question, no, and yes. Your nature will drive you to challenge yourself--this is who you are. In regards to ever changing from this disposition, you probably should not. You have found your place in your world, and the conflict in your being does you good."

"We can change our spiritual natures?"

"No," Cjonah said in a reluctant tone. "But that is a complicated matter that requires the reckoning of many factors. Spirits find their places in the cosmos, and the spirit of Euphos Lones Trag will always be the same."

Euphos did not push for clarification. The butler of the spirit world knew things that the hunter could not understand and functioned as an envoy to the astral dimension. Many new astral travelers would find themselves arriving at Vilewood, and the butler would be there to explain the law of the land to them. The arriving malevolent spirits would be watched by the Storied Lighthouse.

The spectral butler had lived inside the astral dimension from time immemorial, convening with many powerful entities and the gods. He knew things about the land that only the gods knew, and this is why he had been selected to represent the vast grey domain. He had been "selected" in the sense that he had survived countless conflicts within the grey world and lived to tell about them.

"Second"--Cjonah had to force the words from his lips--"you are a Wracked Soul, my friend . . ."

"I think I get it," Euphos responded. "I wouldn't be trying to rally the wracked into a pitched battle against Geru. I would be convincing them to join his army, and this would allow me to get close. I can walk among the Wracked Souls because I am one, and I will not draw attention."

The butler smiled. "Take this." Cjonah gave Euphos a magic gem imbued with power that allowed Euphos to contact Cjonah. "Use it to talk to me on the quest."

Euphos took the gem. "This Geru, is he a caster? Does he have any special powers, talents, items?"

"He possesses tactical skills at the level of a savant. But for you he has something special, _if_ you can kill him."

\- * -

Muppic stepped into the storehouse. The smell of hay tinged with urine hit his sensitive nose, the stench made worse because the facility had no windows or inlets for air.

To Muppic this is what heaven smelled like.

The seever scurried on all fours, only standing up to grab one or another of the hundreds of cages filled with contaminated rats. He stacked the cages on his cart and then loaded them into a small wagon hitched to the backs of four other seevers, a harness connecting their rat-like forms to the wagon.

"You damn vermin, let's get going!" he commanded as he whipped the mules from atop his driver's seat.

The rat wagon bounded through the countryside, heading for the town of Kleon. Its small form only took up a portion of a road that was built for human proportions.

Seevers were an intelligent species of rat people, their bodies the size of young human children. Their persistence was legendary and helped by the fact that they could chew through almost anything with large teeth that grew as fast as they were made dull by use.

The strongman, or rather strong ratman, Muppic, commanded his fellow seevers with the full authority of the Rat King.

"You little bastards, keep your eyes on the road. We're all over the place!"

The seever mules winced in pain as the lash ripped into their hides. They tore down the road, saliva flying everywhere as the ratmen pulled the wagon as fast as possible to avoid another whipping.

\- * -

Euphos lay in bed, watching a moonlit flock of birds fly past a window of his stilt house. He had just returned from his visit to the astral dimension and would begin his journey to the Asylum of the Wracked the following night. This dawning day he needed to check his traps, to make sure they were still active.

The hunter looked around his room. He saw his table, the chair, nothing else. Something, some memory perched on a ledge just beyond his vision, staring at him, watching and waiting. He tried to catch a glimpse of it, but it was quick, and it recoiled before he could make it out, much like the more intelligent prey he hunted. Euphos kept his mind sharp, constantly reading everything he could about the political movements within Phracia. He hunted daily and made sure to keep his senses in top shape, constantly listening to and watching the hunters around him. It could be that his wracked soul was destroying his mind. If this was the case, the hunter would have to retire, maybe to the wards in Spektros that housed the insane. The hunter shook at the thought.

Tric buzzed inside the room, lighting up the space with his warm glow. The Tracker sensed the conflict inside the hunter, conflict more intense than usual.

"Tric, my spirit is flawed," Euphos said as if he was informing someone what day it was. 

# Chapter 3

The Tracker hummed and moved closer to the hunter.

"According to Cjonah it's actually a good thing." Euphos sat up and put his feet on the ground. "Funny thing is--this knowledge makes me feel less broken. I don't have to try to figure out what the hell is wrong with me anymore. I know."

He stood and put his coat on.

The morning suns rose over the swamp. The hunter rowed through the swamp waters dragging satchels of stikwood with him. The wood from the stikwood trees contained a component that geizrs and other swamp animals found disturbing. Trails of the wood made a buffer around his pirogue that repelled the vicious hunters.

His rope traps yielded him several small catches, mostly animals whose pelts could be sold or traded. He found his barb traps triggered but without any quarry.

The cloudy skies kept the hot suns off his back, and they ensured the lands stayed cool, but the volcanic vents at the bottom of the Stryfe River spat hot water into the rivulets that contributed to the swamp. The winds might be cold outside the swamp, but the warm waters from the rivulets kept the hunter's home a muggy gladiator's arena of violent competitors.

Tric floated above the boat to help guide Euphos to the traps, one after the other. Having lived in the swamp for a long while, they had developed an efficient routine. The Tracker pointed the way while Euphos kept his eyes on possible dangers.

Vines from a stikwood tree hung down into their path. The majority of trees and plants in Phasebios grew jagged edges or other protective methods to ward off the plethora of jike creepers and other such monsters that fed on plant life like vampires. The creepers would attach their pinchers to the plant and drain the life force, killing the entire plant by drawing just a small amount of vital force at a time.

They rowed beyond a patch of wight visions, beautiful flowers that were a ghastly translucent white--and even more spectacular, completely ethereal. The petals of the flower could not be touched as they were simply collections of energy. The grey light that pierced the swamp cover collected inside their folds, the petals absorbing the light that fueled the buds, which in turn projected the petals, like wax fueling a candle's flame.

Euphos felt a vibration in his coat pocket.

Someone attempted to scan his mind with psionics and the talisman he had taken from the body of an undead magic user warned him of the breach. The magic user had provided the hunter with a significant bounty in addition to the talisman. The bounty would have been reward enough.

"This flower is the most beautiful thing on the island," spoke a voice. "It resembles the Sirens of Massto, its beautiful glow like the porcelain skin of the mesmerizing temptresses."

Euphos had not seen the figure before it spoke; it looked like a chunk of stone more than a living being. The figure kneeled down to study the visions, his skin cloudy with dark and light lines that looked like the veins of polished marble stone. His brow was square and his hair wholly white and cropped close.

A smoky vapor rose out of his eye sockets and bounced upon the contours of his skull like fog on a mountain. There were no eyes in those sockets, only hollow compartments. Nonetheless, the figure kneeling in front of Euphos could see better than could most high-flying predators.

"I still do not believe my eyes," Euphos said.

The figure before him, a cloudman, spoken of in stories but never so much as glimpsed in the world, exuded righteous authority. The beings were born high above the land, in the skies of Repath Aos Vio, where they watched the lands like scientists. Their presence on land had rarely been witnessed.

Tric dimmed his glow and circled behind Euphos. When strangers approached it was best for Tric to hide. Unusual things, like an intelligent magical tracing, would only help Euphos's enemies identify him.

"I do not come to threaten," said the cloudman. "I am here only seeking someone."

Euphos knew the cloudman held the power of a psionicist, something that the legends had never specified. Euphos's talisman stopped vibrating when they first made eye contact. The cloudman looked briefly into his mind and then retreated, hinting that he only wanted to make sure Euphos would not be hostile.

The psionic cloudman could not have had enough time to gather information about who Euphos was. This also suggested that he did not mean harm.

Psionicists could project their psyches into the minds of others, able to scan a person's thoughts and memories like perusing a book. They could to some degree impel other people to take specific actions by building urges, able to implant feelings inside a person's thoughts, like a powerful motivation to scratch a knee. That person would not be able to distinguish between the artificial motivation and one that arose naturally.

Powerful psionicists could manipulate more than one mind at a time and could build false memories inside people's psyches. Building mental constructs, such as thoughts and feelings that would last after the psionicist left his target's mind, took a lifetime of study.

"We are not going to get along if you keep breaking into my thoughts," Euphos stated.

The cloudman did not show any signs of being surprised that Euphos knew he had attempted a scan.

"Of course. I merely wish to find out if you are aggressive."

Euphos found the cloudman's forthrightness refreshing.

"This is Bronty," the cloudman continued. "She is my associate and friend."

A dwarf woman stepped into the vision patch. Grey light illuminated long reddish hair that hung down her back, most of it braided, some wrapped around her head. Her face was painted with a dramatic series of lines, giving her a feral look.

Her dark green-brown robes were held tight by a vest, and she carried a wooden staff on her back. The paint and her earth-colored robes suggested she was a druid, the colors more common in the land of the dwarves where dwelt more of the nature-magic users.

The cloudman stood. He wore relatively mundane clothing and little armor. If the legends were true, the cloud people could adjust the density of their bodies and thus did not have much use for armor. He carried many daggers on the length of his leg.

"My name is Voyancer."

"Who is it you look for?" asked Euphos.

"We are looking for a man, a hunter of undead. He is said to live in this swamp. I should not speak his name, as he desires to stay anonymous."

"You are looking for Euphos," Euphos said.

"Yes. You say that as if he is not you," Bronty said.

"You are right--he is not me. Who has sent you?"

The druid put her hand into a pouch and produced a coin. "Schute Vas, a cleric of Vursa, told us to give this to him."

Euphos rowed close to the swamp land, then stepped out and lifted his pirogue onto the shore. The druid handed him a metal coin with the inscription "Os Len des Am" pressed into its form.

Only two people owned this coin--Cjonah and Schute. If the druid and the psionicist had the coin, Schute needed to contact the hunter.

Euphos had not seen the cleric for some time, since he had asked the hunter to find the body of a girl who had been murdered by monsters known as svikes. If he had a job for the hunter, it would pay handsomely. Euphos had made sure Schute knew his fee schedule.

Euphos gripped the coin. "What does he want?"

He led the druid and psionicist toward the entrance to the swamp, then informed them that he was the one they looked for.

"Schute said he has a task for you that will change your life forever," said Voyancer. "Something that you have been looking for."

Euphos had just discovered that his soul was fundamentally flawed. Not much else could surprise him. He could definitely use the talins, and it might do him good to get outside his swamp. It might even jog his memory, help him with the blank spots that seemed to be growing in number.

They came to a glade. The gnarled gruce trees became less dense as the group stopped to discuss things at the entrance. The swamp was quiet, as throughout the states of Phracia the hunting was so fierce that creatures could not afford to give their positions away.

The quiet of the grave filled the land. Many spirits roamed the hills, refusing to travel to the astral dimension, refusing to abandon whatever unfinished business they had on the planet. They possessed monsters, humanoids, and the dead, and the current times provided the spirits with much to inhabit. Disease spread from the rotting cities into every corner of the land, and the forlorn spirits took full advantage of the boon of corpses. The restless undead fed on the piles of townspeople, rustling limbs and the dull flap of loose muscle tissue warning of their presence. This quiet then spoke of death.

Although undead had been part of Phracia since its beginning, a new blight had started to take the land. The Cult of Revolution had arisen in the cities and the people had absorbed the cult's anti-tradition views rapidly, and why not? With the Spectral Empire's power growing so immense, the Frissians had little to be afraid of in terms of rivals. With such prosperity, why would anyone want to work, get married, raise a family? Life could be much more entertaining living like a wayward drifter, sleeping with a different person every night.

The hunter had watched the rapid decay up close when traveling in Spektros. Neighborhoods had succumbed to anarchic bandits, cult members who had given up work until they were forced to ravage the towns of their valuables just to survive. Doors to homes swung open with vagrants and wanderers squatting inside the vermin-infested residences.

Guards and resultant law had fled the main living quarters of Spektros, allowing the chaos to invest itself in the spirit of the people. State after state had seen similar events.

"We are in dangerous times," Euphos said to the druid and psionicist, shaking off the pall. "I pray for my home, and the continent. I believe in people guiding their own lives, but it seems that the Frissians can no longer control their will. They are like undead, kept alive only by dire magic of some sort."

Voyancer seemed to hold a similar view. "My people live high above. It is part of our lore that we were made by the gods to watch those below. And there is much chaos upon the land."

The psionicist glanced along the fields of the grizzled marrow that bordered the swamp. The black-and-grey plant grew to knee level, its drab stalks moving in the wind and blending into the grey sky.

Euphos continued. "The beings here are disrespecting their ancestors and the cities are coming undone."

"Life must continue," the druid countered. "Sometimes things must evolve to survive." Bronty came from Rontus Pikaurus, a dwarven continent with a history full of harrowing crises and violence. The druid did not believe that change should be viewed as fundamentally bad and took pride in her people's ability to adapt.

"Bronty, why does the chaos sweeping the continent improve our survival?" Euphos asked.

Voyancer sensed the conflict and tried to redirect the conversation. "Euphos, we would like you to accompany us. We are traveling to Leuctus. Schute is residing in a temple there."

Leuctus was a town in the state of Trobia, on the mainland. They would take a ship from the port town of Syssimides on the southern coast of Phasebios, the cloudman explained, and sail the Spectrul Sea until it touched the Shushed Channel, where they would travel south.

Temples dedicated to all the major gods could be found in Trobia, and minor deities, necromancers, and all sorts of powerful beings would be worshiped there. The city of Leuctus served as the capital of the precursor to the Spectral Empire, a confederation of states united with the historic city as its central hub.

"We are told that you have a wife," said Bronty. "Do you need to make arrangements with her if you decide to accept?"

Euphos's gaze broke from the pair. He stared into the dirt as his mind unveiled its secret, the rogue memory that crept through his mind, that creeping assassin that slunk in the shadows with a dagger dripping poison--his wife.

The clouds parted and the suns beamed through the storm-grey sky, an event that might be as monumental as conversing with cloudmen.

"Yes . . . she . . . will . . . be home soon," he managed to say. "She will be back any moment. I'll have to tell her." And just like that a brilliant white structure like a cloud pushed through his consciousness, completely wiping the previous unveiling from memory. Euphos seemed to emerge from sleep. His eyes drifted upward as if he had just woken up and become aware of himself.

The druid and psionicist stared at the hunter. His demeanor then changed as if he had just been asked the most profound riddle of the gods.

"Why don't you wait at my plot?" Euphos said. "I rent it from a man just beyond the bend of the path here. Pay him this." He handed them several gold talins.

"When do you want us to return?" Bronty asked.

"I'll find you."

"When?"

"Tomorrow."

The companions said their farewells and Euphos turned back to the swamp.

The Spectral Canyons stood at the edge of the horizon.

Euphos had finished checking his traps and returned to his stilt house, pondering his contact with the bounty hunters. He had put down his things and stretched out on his bed, then immediately traveled to the astral dimension to pursue Vau Geru. Cjonah had given Euphos directions to the Asylum of the Wracked and had sent several guardian spirits with the hunter to provide their nonconscious protection.

Euphos traveled the spirit dimension in spirit. His body was lying in his bed back at his stilt house while his spirit detached itself. If his spirit was killed, his body would die, but if his body was killed, his spirit would detach permanently and wander that way unless his body got resurrected by powerful magic. Euphos's journeys in the astral dimension did not tax his physical body, and this allowed the hunter to pursue two quests at the same time--one during waking hours and one while sleeping.

The encounter with Voyancer played in the hunter's mind. Cloudmen were highly intelligent beings, and the presence of one seemed to be a sign, even an omen. Euphos felt something building, some event that had been gathering power for a long time, about to release like a geyser. The revelations he had had in recent days were unbelievable: he possessed a broken soul and his lapses in memory seemed to be getting worse. If it weren't for his contact with Schute and Cjonah, he might do something he would regret and simply end it all.

He needed to know why his sensitivity toward the world and its problems was so acute. He went back through his memories, to his childhood, to his first memories. Then again, it could be his wracked soul.

_Wow,_ the hunter thought. _My soul is broken and I 'm thinking about it like it's a bad haircut, like it's something benign. Maybe that's a result of having a broken soul._

The journey to the asylum would become the most important moment in his life, the hunter started to understand. Not just the journey, but the information about his condition he could gather there.

Euphos moved on the land, traveling a wide, open prairie made from the grey glowing essence that made up the spirit dimension. Various plants and trees and land formations like hills and rocks made up the prairie, all of them similar in color, from dark grey to blue. The details of the geographic elements were vague, as if an artist sketched the rocks roughly, never finishing.

But the details of the blade slung on his back and all the equipment he carried were not blurry. When he entered the spirit world, he carried with him everything he wore on his body in the physical world. His body and all his equipment kept their detail--the blade clanked against his spine and his leather armor creaked.

He carried a banewood bow, crafted by the elves of the land of Buess, on the continent of Siopath. The bow was light and strong, so the hunter could still wield his sword in combat, staying nimble and agile. Euphos kept the recurve bow in his hand, and carried a quiver stocked with ghosydium-tipped arrows.

Most of his bounties were undead horrors--monsters reanimated by dark-magic users and necromancers. Some came from possessed animals or humanoids, their bodies taken over by wandering spirits. Undead would often have to be trapped and simply hacked to pieces in order to break the reanimating magic. Battling the possessed was simpler, Euphos able to strike from a distance with ghosydium.

He had found his sword in the armory of a powerful assassin who met with an uncertain fate. The rogue's den had been built high in the mountains, in the recesses of a cave, where Euphos found it while on an unrelated bounty mission. His skill in trapping allowed him to disarm traps that had killed many others in their quests to acquire the rogue's riches.

Cjonah said that Vau Geru possessed a bow of legend. On one hand that made Euphos's job more difficult, but on the other, if he could obtain the bow, he could take on some of the most powerful beings on Repath Aos Vio. Beings who possessed enough wealth to make bounty hunting a sport.

Euphos surveyed the prairie. There were no other spirits he could see. The astral wildlands were thinly populated. But the spirits of monsters and their ilk did indeed find room to hunt.

A faint outline of a path had been worn into the ground. Traveling as a spirit in the spirit world looked more like shuffling feet while hovering than walking. Euphos stayed close to the ground rather than scaling the skies where he would be more visible at the higher altitudes.

The guardian spirits took positions around Euphos and followed his command. Their forms were nondescript, though they wore armor, probably plate mail.

They traveled for hours in silence against the bassy hum of the spectral winds, a sound much like the horns of war. Euphos felt a warmth in the sound of the winds.

The ground rose as they approached the edge of the Spectral Canyons. He could see the other side of the canyon as they moved up a path that rimmed a steep wall. The canyons were massive wounds in the astral dimension, absorbing the essences of the spirits that populated the land and reflecting that essence with geography.

The canyons were the result of a violent battle between the spirit of a woman attempting to become the goddess of battle and Vict, the god of battle. In her life the woman died in a glorious battle against her hated rival--a powerful king who ruled an expansive empire. Her spirit traveled to the astral dimension where she petitioned Vict to enter his domain. Vict agreed because she proved her power as a warrior in life but then Vict cast the woman's spirit from his domain because she had gathered enough followers while in his domain to challenge the god himself.

A god could become more powerful with more devotees, and the woman attempted to ascend to godhood, to throw Vict from his throne. Vict crushed the woman's spirit and buried it, the Spectral Canyons arising when her spirit refused to rest. Everything around the epic battle became infused with the woman's essence and the canyons were said to be possessed with the woman's martial spirit still angry at herself, angry that she had succumbed to Vict.

The canyon took on the form of the persona of the spirit that traveled within it, and some said that because the woman's spirit wished to escape its grave, the land itself took on a traveler's essence in hopes that she could escape. The energies of other nearby spirits also affected the land, and the precise form it took could not be predicted.

Euphos would be able to move above the canyon and not have to descend into its depths. The challenge would be traversing the canyon without being stopped by the manifestations that would arise from his spirit's conscious mind.

Something occurred to the hunter. The phenomenon of his spirit affecting the geography of the astral dimension might have a parallel in his own world. Whereas in this world the effects took visible forms, those effects might not be observable in his. He would have to visit with the more inventive magic users or investigators of the arcane arts to see if this would be possible.

As Euphos came close the ground started to crack, the grey turning to black, and puddles of molten plasma bubbled from the fractures. Euphos knew his presence would affect the land, but not so rapidly and violently.

He climbed into the air to put distance between his spirit and the land, but as soon as he rose into the sky the land swelled like a wave and grabbed at the hunter with its crests. The land formed a depression below where it moved upward to surround Euphos.

The hunter lifted from his satchel the magical red gem Cjonah had given him in case he needed to contact the butler.

"Cjonah, why didn't you tell me about this?" Euphos cried. Cjonah had told him that the canyon would help him discover his spirit, but he had mentioned nothing about the severity of the effect.

The butler's voice came through one of the guardian spirits. "I did tell you. You are at the Spectral Canyons?"

"Yes, the ground is trying to grab me," he replied. "I'm a ways up in the sky too." He tried to wiggle his foot away from the grasping plasmic hands.

A wide section of the land rotated and congealed itself into goo that rose up and sent tentacles after the hunter.

Silence for a moment, as Cjonah paused.

"You need to get out of there, Euphos. You are--"

"I'm more screwed up than you thought? Wonderful."

"No, just hurry," the butler said, but the hunter knew why the land did what it did. Euphos's powerful hunter instincts could not be misled. Cjonah had explained that the canyon would modify itself, but he severely underestimated the effect Euphos would have on the land. In the countless millennia the butler had lived in the astral dimension, he had never seen anything affect the canyon like the hunter.

"Yes, my mistake. Go up."

The hunter climbed vertically as fast as he could, then finally broke free of the reaching hands. He was high enough to be seen for miles in every direction and, at the edge of the horizon, something did.

\- * -

"You think we should find him?"

Bronty and Voyancer stood at a second house built on the property of Euphos's trusted friend. They had waited for Euphos to arrive the previous day but he never did.

The plot of land had been built up on the outskirts of a forest to the south, the owner of the plot harvesting the tall shadefire trees and planting grass for livestock. The hunters slept in quarters that were very comfortable for having been set up by a farmer.

"Yes, Schute said the hunter could be trusted. He could be in danger," answered Voyancer. "We should find him."

The suns had just risen, their light obscured by the thick cloud cover. The hunters made their way to the bend in the path and turned into the swamp.

The hot wetness surprised the pair, the temperature magnified by the vast plant life that took advantage of the sweltering conditions.

Bronty did not recognize many of the plants. Her home, thousands of miles away on the dwarven continent Rontus Pikaurus, hosted a tremendous variety of plant life, but studying Phracia's flora forced the druid to come up with an entirely new set of classifications. These plants were strangely devoid of color, with many simply different shades of grey, going from all black to pure white.

Her connection to the spirit of life as a druid frightened her when it came to studying Phracia. Many plants simply kept on living after they had technically died, like they were undead. They didn't draw water or sunlight, but they still continued and somehow did not rot.

"This place is not very friendly to my sensibilities," she said. "The more I see, the more it looks like this whole place suffers from a curse."

Bronty had come to Phasebios at the beckoning of Schute, who knew her among the followers of Vursa. He had been looking for a healer who could also help in battle, saying that he required only the fittest to embark on a quest, a quest more important than any he had given in his life.

She studied with the druids of Gripidonce, an above-ground dwarven city known for its massive statues dedicated to the ancient dwarven pantheon.

"Phracia is indeed forsaken," agreed Voyancer, "if only because of the fell magic of the necromancers. The suns stand just outside of reach--the people know they're there, but they are hidden. This metaphor is fitting for the spirit of the land."

The psionicist's own home stood thousands of feet in the sky, in the kingdoms of the cloudmen.

"It may be more painful knowing that warmth and light are close," he continued, "but not close enough to see and feel. They are there, but forever just out of touch."

They pushed deeper into the swamp, trying to find some path or evidence of the whereabouts of the hunter's home. They initially found him a short distance into the swamp, though Schute did not know the specific location of his home. Wandering the swamp would prove to be dangerous.

"We've got someone interested in us," the psionicist said as a full grown roemanx stepped into view. The muscled predator paused a moment as if to give the hunters a warning. The bulk of its body stood almost as tall as Bronty.

The druid stopped a moment and concentrated with her eyes closed. The feral lines on her inky mask moved like anchor chains as she envisioned her feelings pushing out and connecting with the auras of the living things around her. Her mask came alive, helping to link the druid's spirit to the spiritual energies.

Druids powered their spells by connecting with the spirits of nature and of animals, both of which were constructed with the raw components of spiritual essence. The primal spiritual energies combined into essences that were self-aware, autonomous from their surroundings. Primal spirits did as they did without the thought processes associated with higher spiritual energies, those that made up the intelligent beings.

She wrapped her feelings around a tygus tree, picking up its density and weighty presence. The branches of the tygus tree would grow askew, as would its powerful trunk. The tree looked like a warrior dodging a blow aimed at his midsection.

The ground teemed with bugs transporting bits of detritus, and the druid surrounded them with her life force, helping them make their perilous journeys safely and securely.

Bronty's feelings stretched to the roemanx, whose visceral hunger powered Bronty's nature-spirit powers. She painted her mask to represent the power of the sleek hunters that patrolled the jungles, the markings drawn in their likeness. This boosted her powers of tracking and hunting.

She connected with the roemanx's aura, and the swamp hunter's disposition changed at once as the druid's projections encircled and conjoined their spirits.

"Where is this man's home?" she asked with a series of connected visions. Words were meaningless to the spirits of nature. The animals communicated in rough visual form.

Bronty flooded the roemanx's mind with visual impressions of Euphos. The pictures showed up more as instincts, as intuitions without visual details.

The psionicist looked back at Bronty, waiting for a sign that she controlled the massive roemanx.

"Follow him," she stated.

Voyancer had known the druid for many years and he knew that she could turn foe to friend with her powers. This had saved them many times.

Dry ground gave way to wetland as the hunters followed the roemanx into the swamp. Bronty kept her spirit connected to the roemanx and assured the hunter that it did right in guiding them. Animal spirits were volatile, though, and she had to steer the roemanx's aggressive impulses to the task at hand.

An adult roemanx covered a wide territory in its lifetime and at some point would have found Euphos's home unless Euphos used magic to obscure it. The roemanx seemed to have a strong sense of the location, and to some degree she could tell the roemanx felt that Euphos had made a name for himself in the world of the animals.

Bronty noted the impulses of the roemanx, capturing the hunter's sensations and memories with her intuitive connection. The form of Euphos in the hunter's psyche was a collection of visual and olfactory memories, though stored in the mind more as visceral feelings. 

# Chapter 4

The roemanx sniffed the ground when it approached a particularly tall scruff tree. The tree's thick branches carried vines that hung down to a pool of water that eventually became wetland a distance beyond.

Euphos jumped out of a tree behind the druid and psionicist.

"You should send that roemanx into the swamp very quickly," he announced. "Unless you want to test your skill at handling about three more. They're pack hunters and this one here looks like he's on to something."

Voyancer had done a mental scan of the area, and the fact that Euphos had been able to sneak up on them told the psionicist a lot about his ability.

Bronty inspired the hunter to move on to the swamp, to follow the prey scent trail he picked up there. The night-coated predator seemed to nod at the druid. Its radiant eyes reflected the grey light that made it through the branches.

"Impressive, though," Euphos mused.

"You following us?" asked Bronty.

"Setting up traps, and I saw you."

The psionicist studied Euphos a moment, hoping the hunter would mention something about not showing himself the day before. "Why didn't you come to us?" he asked when several seconds had gone by. Euphos didn't seem to show any sense of guilt for breaking his promise.

Euphos's brow furrowed. He looked to the ground, "I . . . I . . . I . . ."

Schute had not mentioned that Euphos had any conditions. But Voyancer surmised the hunter had memory problems. The brief glimpse he made into Euphos's mind days before had proven that Euphos had a powerful and good psyche. Something dark and dangerous lurked in the hunter, though, and the psionicist had warned the druid that Euphos's psyche was severely fractured. With memory problems, too, the hunter surprised Voyancer with his ability to function at all.

Bronty stepped forward to get a better look at the hunter. No signs of battle, or sickness, or injury. He appeared to be completely fine.

"You said you were waiting for your wife?"

The hunter's eyes widened. "Yes. She should be back soon." He looked up at the druid with a questioning glance, as if not sure about what he just said.

"Are you okay, Euphos?" asked the psionicist. Euphos didn't respond and looked around like a confused beggar. "You were supposed to come get us."

"Yes, yes, yes," he answered. "Tomorrow. I'll get you in the morning."

"You still going with us to Trobia?" the druid asked.

"Yes, we'll leave in the morning."

The following morning found the druid and psionicist alone again, with no Euphos in sight.

"Schute said we had to get him. Any way possible," Bronty declared. "I can use some of my entanglement spells."

Voyancer thought through their options. He could simply hijack the hunter's mind using his most powerful psionic attacks, but Euphos displayed a keen ability to counter his psionics, something Schute had not warned him about specifically. Still, his most powerful attacks would be difficult for any but the most powerful to resist.

They set out for the swamp at noon. The clouds cast their grey pall on the land and the shadowy world of Phracia's plant life took the light as usual. The hills were full of trees and bushes, the whole light-to-dark spectrum looking like the stone and bone in a graveyard.

Bronty led them into the swamp quickly. She had probed the roemanx's spirit the day prior and found the general location of Euphos's stilt house. Bronty had to raise up a collapsed tree with her magic to form a bridge over parts too wet to traverse. Then they came to the shore of the swamp pool that surrounded Euphos's house in the distance.

Voyancer concentrated and found a psyche in the house. Euphos was indeed there.

"This time--this is important--do not say anything about his wife. Just mention Schute and the quest," Voyancer advised. "Euphos's mind, his memory of his wife, is in shambles."

Bronty waved for a few moments, and then the hunter carefully peered out a window of his house. He appeared at the door in a coat and rowed over to meet the hunters on the shore of the wetland.

"You ready to go, Euphos?" asked Voyancer.

The hunter looked confused.

"We're going to Trobia. Schute would like to hire you for an important quest on the mainland."

"Yes, right," the hunter answered. He sat in his pirogue, taking no action.

"Do you need to get some things before we go?" Bronty hinted.

The hunter looked up at the sky. "Yes, looks like it's going to rain." He rowed in circles awhile. He finally looked up at the hunters. "I'll be back shortly."

Bronty and Voyancer traded wide-eyed looks. They watched the hunter enter his house, then sighed in relief when he emerged after a short time with a pack and weapons on his back. The hunters purchased two horses from Euphos's trusted friend and they traveled to Syssimides.

The hunters rode south from the swamp on a road that went past many small towns before coming to the capital of Phasebios and the entire Spectral Empire.

The mountains around Spektros resembled a dragon's spine, encircling the city as if the dragon slept, the city its most valued stolen prize. A spire at the center of the city stood like a stylus engraving tracks on the clouds as they moved through the sky. Windows dotted the spire's length.

Surrounding the city, walls white like porcelain rose high into the air, obscuring the activity within. Jagged points at the tops of the tower walls looked like the claws of a dragon. The interior of the city could not be seen even from the highest peaks around the valley, as the city's foundation had been built at the top of a high hill.

Euphos noted guards on the tower walls, with bows and pikes, the ranking guards dressed in white plate armor like the shell components of a heavily armored insect. The armor seemed to be made out of something lighter than metal.

The footmen wore black armor in much the same style as that of the ranking guards. This black-and-white contrast could be seen in the Spectral Empire banners and insignia, and within the architecture of their cities. Grey-suited wingmen used dragons and various flying mounts to launch assaults in enemy territory, and the reflective armor of psionic warrior knights known as the Omeganauts were intermediary shades of grey.

The hunters rode the full day, only stopping at an inn along the way. Euphos lay down after the long ride, sure that they would make it to Syssimides despite the hordes of homeless filling up the roadsides. Syssimides would be two days ride south, all the way to Phasebios's southern extreme.

The Cult of Revolution had turned the cities into huge camps, with citizens simply stopping all productive activity in order to roam freely. The forests and hills around the cities became camps bustling with the newly liberated cultists. They set up communal farms and distributed the produce, though the camps quickly became despotisms with commanders and enforcers rising up to dominate the cultists more thoroughly than any despotic king ever had subjugated his subjects.

Euphos relived events from the ride. A man had approached the hunters and warned them not to worry about their families. The cult taught that all beings were related and should be considered immediate family. His whole body covered in dirt, the man said, "Your family, your friends, they are everywhere." The man eyed Bronty. "Are you his sister?" he asked, referring to Euphos.

Bronty shook her head.

"Good. Are you his brother?" Voyancer didn't respond. "I am your brother," the man continued, "and so are they"--he gestured toward a group of wayward cult members lying on a patch of dirt at the side of the road--"they are your sisters and brothers."

Their clothes were filthy and ripped but still looked to be of high quality, as if the group had decided recently to join the cult.

Euphos understood the sentiment. They simply wanted people to come together, to be kind to one another. The complication arose when they destroyed all of the foundations of society, like the bond between man and woman, and the bonds between parents and children.

"The cities look like they've been hit by dragon's fire," Euphos commented. "You are being manipulated, my friend."

"No, it is you who are being manipulated!" the man yelled as he grabbed at Euphos, attempting to pull him from his mount. Euphos smashed the man's chest with a kick and sent the cultist into the dirt, clutching his ribs.

Voyancer lashed out and grabbed the man's mind. He stood the cultist up and sent him to the berm.

Euphos closed his eyes, thinking about the bounty they would be given. Schute's bounties would be lucrative yet difficult to obtain. The cleric worked with the temples of Vursa to rid the lands of the horrors that plagued Phracia since its beginnings. The monsters were mostly abominations put together by nefarious magic. Vursa's domain encompassed life and death, concepts not relevant to most of the things Euphos killed.

The rush of the hunt filled Euphos's veins. Thinking about the physical and mental challenges that came with collecting the bounties kept him awake, and the hunter refreshed his memory by reviewing his fighting skills. His physical regime included daily strength and endurance training with his blades and bow. He would always be in top shape.

Right before he drifted to sleep, a woman's eyes came to haunt his rest. Her dark hair spilled onto his chest as she looked long and close at him. This woman seemed to haunt his every waking minute, but Euphos could not quite remember her. _Who is she?_

He knew her, but just couldn't remember . . . Her memory stayed just inches from his grasp but would not be had. _Who is this, and why is she staring at me?_ Euphos's mind blanked just as he remembered. The hunter then slept long and deeply. The memory would perpetually harass him, he worried, staying just beyond his grasp, forever, until she finally killed him.

\- * -

Euphos took the time to walk the spirit world while the hunters slept at the inn. His guardian spirits followed, silent and aware. From horizon to horizon in every direction, the dark sky was littered with souls traveling to and fro along the land, their white ghostly essences resembling the fine woven cloth on the canopy of a noble's bed.

Something crept into the mind of the hunter, something he fought off with every ounce of energy and in every moment of his life.

"My friends," he felt himself saying, "be thankful that you are not conscious spirit entities, that you are not . . ." The words came from his lips before he understood them.

_Like me._ That they were not like him.

_There is something that haunts me that I cannot describe, poised like one of my bounties coming back to get revenge, desiring to let my blood with a bladed edge, a claw._ The spirits did not shift their gaze. They followed without a sound. He spoke aloud again. "It's like I'm standing on top of a pit spike trap, and the false ground has not given way, not yet."

Phracia seemed indeed a spike trap the more Euphos thought about it. The cities, the disease, the chaos--all could be a trap set by people wishing to capture something, but who would be the quarry?

Citizens of the cities fell victim to the anarchy. Since the citizens were part of the Spectral Empire as a whole, the logical conclusion would be that someone was attempting to catch the whole empire. The states of Phracia were being impaled on the spikes while Phracia's hunter stood above, marveling at his prize.

Why did he concern himself with the state of the world? Euphos just needed to handle his own business. But the decay in the cities encroached on all of the continent, affecting Euphos even if he did live in the swamp. This is why he cared.

A spark, or a flash, lit up in the distance. Euphos halted to get a better view. He pressed a monocle to his eye to magnify the bright spot. Another spirit traveled in the distance, its form sparkling against the black sky. It made no attempt to hide itself.

Euphos recognized the spirit. The bright light was a symbol, a communication. Rejji.

He knew the spirit from his journeys into the lands of Noles, a region of the astral dimension rich in mines containing various spirit ores and minerals. Rejji traveled the lands selling everything from tonics to clothing to blades. Euphos might gain a useful insight about the Asylum of the Wracked from Rejji, possibly even a useful trinket.

Euphos traveled toward Rejji and soon he found the merchant pulling along a wagon with several other spirits at the back of the merchant's caravan.

"Hello, you sick bastard!" Rejji hollered before Euphos stood within hand-shaking distance.

Rejji patted Euphos on the back and they clasped arms. "We should go back to Prins before the women go, eh?!" Rejji asked with a boisterous laugh.

"Sure--" Euphos started but could not finish.

A massive bo rushed up to the caravan, covering miles of distance within a second, and drove its titanic scythe down in an arc that would slice through anything in the astral dimension.

The strike split Rejji's wagon in two and cut into the land, breaking one of Rejji's band of spirits into a million points of light.

"What in the heck?!" Rejji yelled as he hovered behind the remains of his wagon. "A bo out here?!"

"There are big things going on here--I'll tell you if we survive," Euphos said as he jumped out of the way of another swing from the bo.

The giant black-robed spirit with an alien skull carried a huge blade. Bos moved either slower than a scaled reptilian or as fast as the recipient of a powerful haste spell, never in between.

The bo had recoiled from its swing and slowly and purposefully twisted its body to set up another strike. Its black robes hung from its bony frame, the cuffs large enough to cloak a whole person. It was clearly building up its power to unleash a storm of murderous action, like the slowly cranking arm of a catapult.

"Their energy is derived from their weapon--we need to disarm it!" Euphos informed Rejji.

"I'll just go up to him and ask him for it," Rejji said.

"Save the sarcasm, you punk."

"No, I'm being serious. I'm the best merchant in the entire astral dimension. Watch this."

Rejji crept out from behind the wagon and bravely made his way toward the bo. Euphos shook his head. _Wow, he 's a lunatic, but he's brave, no doubt._ Death here meant permanent death. The hunter commanded one of his guardian spirits to follow Rejji.

"Hello, sir!" the merchant yelled up at the bo, who stood three times the merchant's height. "Or lady--I can't tell."

Euphos glanced at the other spirits in the caravan. One was fleeing into the wildlands. The others huddled behind the other section of the wagon.

"You have an incredible scythe there," Rejji continued. "May I suggest a trade? Perhaps this?" The merchant drew a deck of game cards from a pouch. "They look like simple game cards, but they are much, much more."

The bo, still in the slow phase of its movement, had turned its attention to Rejji. Its eyes, or rather eye sockets, were locked on Rejji, not on the cards. Euphos knew the bo had no intention of barter. The hunter flew into the air, drawing his long blade at the same time.

The bo's slow phase finished and it swung its scythe at Rejji with no hesitation, getting off several swings in the time it would've taken a man to strike once. It moved at the merchant and encircled him so quickly that he had no time to dodge. Euphos's guardian spirit did its job, and as soon as the first swing landed, it hit the spirit instead of Rejji, magically transporting the merchant some distance away from the battle, an additional safeguard beyond providing physical defense. The guardian spirit broke into its constituent forces.

If the guardian spirit had not intervened, Rejji would have been slashed into the nether a minimum of four times in the blink of an eye.

"You could've just said 'no thank you,'" Rejji mocked. "Or would you like me to introduce you to the king of Siopath? You could manicure his entire estate in about two minutes with that oversized gardening tool."

Euphos caught the bo during the beginning of its next buildup. He slashed at the neck of the scythe: he would have to destroy the scythe to disarm the bo. His first strike ripped a gash into the handle high above the bo's grip. Then the bo focused its attention on Euphos, its skull moving slowly, as it no doubt calculated the flurry of swings it would use to rip him to the nether.

The merchant flew high, sailing right for the bo. A caravan spirit joined in, emboldened by Euphos's tactic, and lifted a short sword and hacked at the scythe handle, and splinters flew into the sky. Euphos knew the spirit would be killed when the bo went into its fast phase. He sent a second guardian spirit to block a strike from the bo. He could not sacrifice any more spirits, for they were protecting others. Euphos opened up his cloak and Tric hovered into the battle scene. He raced around and flashed violently.

"I know," Euphos answered the flashes, "but we need you."

Tric had a spirit, but a primal one, and could be killed by a strike from a magic blade. Euphos usually did not travel with his Tracker in the astral dimension. Bright lanterns and the like drew attention from monsters like the bo.

"Entertain him while we do our business," Euphos demanded.

Tric raced at the bo right as its fast phase commenced. The bo struck at the caravan spirit and then swung at Tric as the Tracker drew a path in the sky as erratic as the bo's movement. Euphos hung back, hoping the bo would spend his accelerated time trying to catch Tric.

Tric barely dodged a swing, and was immediately close to the bo, almost unable to keep from being caught.

Rejji saw the Tracker's plight and flitted through his satchels. He tossed a potion of smoke blast at the bo. A smoky cloud grew quickly, and the bo moved through it, carrying the smoke on its form as it chased Tric.

"Go!" yelled Euphos as the bo's slow phase took hold. He sailed in and slashed at the scythe head. The caravan spirit made it back to the battle and furiously hacked along with Euphos.

They gouged a thick section out of the neck. Euphos sailed in reverse.

"Move! It's about to--" Euphos warned, but the caravan spirit didn't heed. The bo sped up. To his surprise it didn't strike the caravan spirit, but instead turned to the wagon, slicing through the three spirits that hid behind the wagon.

Rejji hollered in agony as the spirits became spectral mist. "You vermin!" he yelled and sped toward the bo, wielding only a dagger.

It occurred to Euphos that those spirits were probably Rejji's family. He traveled with his blood. His brothers and sisters, having died, must have made the decision to not continue on to the gods' houses.

The merchant barreled toward the bo in a suicidal charge. Euphos flew as fast as he could to the bo to try to intercept the strikes. Right after he caught up with Rejji, the bo, still in its fast phase, rushed to their position and slashed. The guardian spirit took the blow and Euphos found himself some distance away, flanked by two remaining spirits.

The bo had reverted to its slow phase, and Rejji plunged the dagger harmlessly into the bo, shouting and flailing like a trapped animal. Tric moved up to the bo to distract it, but it would not take its eyes from Rejji. He would be torn from the spirit world when the bo sped up.

Euphos saw the remaining caravan spirit fly to the bo, but he wouldn't make it before Rejji would be slain. Euphos knew he held Rejji's life in his grip, but he would not be able to cover the distance to the bo.

The hunter drew his bow and nocked a ghosydium-tipped arrow. The banewood felt dry and tight. It bent backward like Euphos did in the morning to stretch his muscles, feeling just as good. Tric instinctively moved in front of Euphos's target; the top of the bo's scythe. He brightened up to give Euphos a more visible point to aim at. The scythe's neck had almost been hacked through, and Euphos counted on his arrow finishing it.

He pulled the drawstring back and aimed at Tric. The bo would switch phases any moment.

The arrow flew straight and Tric dodged when he saw Euphos raise his arm. The bo phased right as the arrow struck the scythe.

The scythe blade snapped off from the neck when the arrow hit. The bo froze, its body slowly turning to a powdery white substance, its black robes cracking like a granite block under a titan's foot. A screeching howl vibrated the jewelry on Rejji's chest and the merchant went temporarily deaf.

Rejji hacked at the spectral corpse until he used every ounce of his grieving energy and collapsed. Tric maintained his distance.

Euphos hovered close. "We need to get moving, Rejji. These are dangerous times."

He had known the merchant for many years. Rejji had decided to stay in the astral dimension and help the spirits obtain various artifacts, trinkets, and heirlooms--things that would help the spirits finish unfinished business. Then they could move to the lands of the gods or other dimensions. He was a merchant of freedom for the captives.

"They were all I had," the merchant said. "Everything."

Euphos studied the bo's corpse. The white substance could be worth something as a spell or potion component. He filled a satchel and waited for the merchant to rise. After a while Rejji rose and Euphos joined him. They traveled quickly, careful to avoid the lands to the east. Senste, the remaining caravan spirit, shocked Euphos when he said he had traveled to the Asylum of the Wracked just as Euphos had. Senste told Euphos his story: he found Rejji while on the hunt for a spirit that had killed his wife's spirit. The only information he had to go on was a cape.

Rejji kept his eyes on the path, not saying anything while Senste continued. "When I came home from a journey to be with my wife, I saw her being murdered by a spirit who wore a grey cape that could have been a hundred yards long. The figure thrust a blade all the way up to the hilt . . . while it wrapped her up in the twists of the cape like a serpent coiling around her. Rejji knew the figure to be a Wracked Soul, a spirit with broken parts like a shattered blade."

Did they know about Euphos, about his own wracked soul? He would have to tell them if they were going to the asylum. "I know of the Wracked Souls and I hope to make it to the asylum as fast as possible myself. I am one of them."

Senste stared at Euphos. Rejji's eyes left the ground for the first time in a while.

"Are you planning to live there?" Senste asked.

"No. I'm hoping to get there before Vau Geru does. I'm just a sightseer," Euphos lied, wishing to keep his true purpose secret.

The hunters rode two more days, finally arriving at Syssimides during a storm. Bronty hadn't seen the suns the entire trip, the cloud cover being thick and unrelenting, much different from the open skies that allowed the suns to bathe her home Rontus Pikaurus. The hills and mountains were a rich brown, but the plants and the people seemed to reject color.

More cult members filled the main roads, their camps popping up on the roadside as the travelers rounded new bends. Whole sections of the highway were littered with their abandoned clothes and possessions, and they behaved like refugees fleeing from a city under attack. Only the attack had come from within the cities, the Cult of Revolution proselytizers attempting to pull people from productive life like thieves lifting coins from a satchel.

They entered Syssimides during the day and found a host of sailing ships docked in the harbor. The town had a high wall that surrounded the city like a horseshoe, open at the water's edge. Its guards wore black armor and held long pikes. High on the wall hung a black-and-white banner with the symbol of the Spectral Empire, a stylized depiction of a winged spirit holding two blades crossed below its waist.

The streets were built from wide brick and mortar with white wood for the shops and city buildings. Rain thumped the hunters' cloaks then trickled to the street to wash vagrant filth from the alleys. A pair of ripped trousers clung to a street light. A bed city constructed from crates and cloth filled the corner of a tavern.

The hunters found their way to the docks and saw a guard squad on duty there. Schute had warned Bronty and Voyancer against talking to guards or Biotian officials in general. The rise of the cult had caused the short tempers of the Biotians to get shorter.

"Why don't they simply build a refuge for the cult somewhere in the wildlands of Phasebios?" asked Bronty.

"The governors of Phasebios are notoriously secretive," Euphos answered, then added a hint of sarcasm. "Voyancer's people are more accessible." The Spektros intelligence networks were unequaled, as he discovered when he received unbelievably detailed instructions for a bounty posted by Spektros. The particular individual to be hunted traveled around the known world, and Spektros had the dates, places, and times of every significant action he had taken within his lifetime. Euphos wondered if they had made a similar record of his own life.

"My people purposely stay above the fray, as it were," Voyancer remarked. "We believe it is our destiny to study those beings. We have prevented catastrophes that your peoples are unaware of. The governors of the Spectral Empire are very intelligent, as the story of Bas handing them the Keys to Empire gives account. Having a population turn into unproductive vagrants does not seem to help the empire, and thus they do not build refuges."

"We haven't seen any cult in the city here," Bronty said. "They seem to be staying on top of it. Why did you say that a population of vagrants doesn't 'seem' to help the empire? It surely would not."

"If the governors of the empire wished to destroy it, they would try to promote the cult," Euphos noted.

"Why would they destroy it?" the druid asked.

"Because they wish to turn the empire into something else, probably use the chaos as rationale to bring in severe curtailment of freedom. More laws interfering with the people's rights."

"Would Bas allow that?"

"Bas does not govern the empire," Euphos replied. "Men do . . . supposedly. Men have will and their decisions are their own. But there are plotters, and they will attempt to destroy simply because they love to."

"My people do not have governors," Voyancer said with a hint of arrogance. "We are entirely self-sufficient individuals and have disagreements only about art and philosophy. I could never envy a person living as a subject." But if his people were able to function orderly and lawfully, Euphos thought, he definitely deserved to be arrogant.

They rode to the docks and found a ship for hire, a schooner, piloted by an elf who wore a formal black suit. The elf would sail in the morning and offered the hunters beds on the ship for the night.

"You look like a politician with that suit. Are you the captain of this ship?" Euphos jabbed.

"You should be thankful that the captain takes pains to make himself presentable to his customers," the elf responded. "Maritime law is suffering from severe neglect as Spektros does not seem to be keen on enforcing it. With all the other chaos gripping Phracia, this is one of the only ways I gain trust."

The chaos in Phracia had grown to overtake the law itself, he explained. Pirates were simply luring people into the waters and then robbing and murdering them--even more signs to bolster Euphos's grim observations about his home.

"Then I am glad we found you," Euphos apologized, "and may Vursa bless you."

The hunters went to their shared cabin on the ship. Euphos found his bed on one of the four walls of the simple space--one of two cabins on the ship--and laid his head on a folded cloth. He would join Rejji and Senste in the astral dimension soon, but he would need to get some sleep first. 

# Chapter 5

He slept a few hours and then let his spirit enter the astral world. Bronty and Voyancer had no idea he had this ability. Schute would not have informed them because he knew Euphos would keep it private himself. While Euphos journeyed the astral dimension, his body back on his planet was vulnerable: pulling a spirit from a body put the body into an almost coma-like state. Euphos could return his spirit to his body quickly, but waking up took longer than usual and he would be more vulnerable than if he were just sleeping.

Rejji and Senste continued their journey to the asylum, and Euphos would have to try to catch up after having left the astral dimension the day before. He hovered over the land, staying close to its lower elevations. He had journeyed into the higher altitudes before but never to any of the gods' domains. Entering the astral dimension as a spirit whose body had not been killed presented interesting possibilities.

He could simply attempt to enter the gods' domains; his body on Repath Aos Vio would maintain its life, but the gods' decision to let the astral travelers into their domains would be influenced by the spirit's decisions while on the world, and a spirit who hadn't died a physical death did not have a good chance.

Euphos set his eyes on the spectral prairie and traveled toward the Asylum of the Wracked. When he awoke, his fellow travelers on the ship had no idea where he had been as they all slept.

\- * -

The journey to Trobia brought the hunters around the tip of Thephobium and into the Shushed Channel, the long stretch of ocean between the continents of Phracia and Xipigong.

The continent of Xipigong had been engineered as a massive testing ground and laboratory. Inventors from around the world came to the continent to gain access to the most advanced technology available. The inventors had begun a quest centuries prior, to transform the entire continent into a variety of companies dedicated to mechanical and magical invention and engineering. They competed with each other to design and build the grandest contraptions the world had ever seen. They invented titanic metal walkers, javelin machines capable of launching weighty projectiles vast distances, and more practical inventions like automatonic greenhouses capable of self-harvesting and transporting themselves to sunnier regions when cloud cover blocked the light.

The vessels and weaponry guarding the land were often entirely self-sufficient, relying on powerful magical essences to help guide and control their actions. The inventors provided fail-safes to ensure the machines would never develop their own agendas. There would always be flesh-and-blood intelligences controlling the machines.

Euphos had been to the continent on several occasions. A company had been destroyed and looted by a rival, and he retrieved and returned the valuable mechanical and magical things to their owners and collected a good bounty.

"We going to get to see your home, Voyancer?" Bronty asked. After a calm day's voyage they were stretched out on their cots in the cabin, their eyes drawn to the starry sky in a rare cloudbreak, visible through the open cabin door.

"Our home is not visible to any but cloudmen, though it is possible my people would give an outsider the ability to see our home, as we have before."

"Druid, does the Age of Magic affect your spells?" Euphos asked as he went over his astral trip plan in his mind. He would go back to the astral dimension that night to make progress toward the Asylum of the Wracked, but he took the opportunity to get to know his new friends.

"No," Bronty replied. "My powers derive from primal nature spirits. In a way they are gifts of Vursa, since she is responsible for life. The arcane magic users are the only ones who benefit."

The Age of Magic had increased the power of a certain class of spells for all magic users on the planet. Botep, the god of magic, had significantly empowered spells of a certain type.

The most powerful beings did not understand why certain arcane magic rose in power for long periods of time, even millennia. The principles of magic were mysterious. Elemental spells might rise in power, such as fireball spells causing significantly more damage than in times past. Or air spells like gale winds would become able to destroy stone buildings. The Elemental Age, The Age of the Mind, and The Shadow Age had come some time before the current Age of Destruction. In this time spells that wrought devastation rose in power--mass inferno, rain of horror, and the like.

Euphos had seen the cities begin to dissolve and the Spectral Empire waver in its response to the chaos. Anarchy had infected the entire continent from Phasebios to Eudybium to Thephobium. The wars against the ogres and gnolls at the north of Eudybium and the advances of the nightmarish horrors of Chwangau foreboded the current age. The Age of Destruction indeed.

They sailed for seven days, the voyage from Phasebios to Thephobium uneventful. When they rounded Thephobium they encountered many more sailing vessels, but they stayed close to the shore of the continent to avoid the likelihood of being sacked by pirates. Biotian cruisers patrolled the waters and the states sent their own frigates to patrol the shipping lanes.

They docked at the town of Ippkyrus and rented mounts from its stables. Two days' ride and they arrived at Leuctus, the capital of Trobia.

Hills where many grey and black grasses grew surrounded Leuctus, their tops studded with shade pines with dark trunks and transparent-needled branches. The pines drew their life from the flora on the ground, and thus their needles allowed the light to filter down to their hosts, drawing moisture from the air.

Beyond the cities, prairies and rocky steppe dominated Trobia. The dirt matched the grey sky, while the many plants and trees had the black-and-white hues of most of Phracia. The hilly land reminded Euphos of much of the astral dimension, Leuctus's temples reminiscent of the spiritual nature of the land of the spirits.

The points of the spires of the temples of Proetas, the god of art and invention, shimmered in the greyness, their interiors lit by magic. Red, blue, and yellow patches of luminescence formed various figures in the temple glass--a knight fighting a dragon, or ancient words of the Sabines. The color stood out like a dark dungeon's torch, visible from a long distance.

Bronty had seen many of the gods' temples in her homeland. But she called on the spirits of nature for power. The nature spirits were only vaguely intelligent, and were driven mostly by primal drives, the drive for life empowering weather and volcanoes.

As they rode into the entrance of the town, Voyancer covered himself with a hooded robe. Most people would believe him to be of some obscure race from some obscure land, but the people of Leuctus were wiser. They would no doubt be shocked to see a cloudman walking among them.

The city walls stood high enough to block out the tops of most buildings and were manned by white-armored guards who wore tabards bearing a temple insignia.

"Why didn't they stop us?" Bronty wondered aloud.

Euphos inspected the streets. Citizens milled about on the cobblestones. A merchant pulled a cart of hay, a woman hoisted a barrel on her shoulders, a child led a horse along by the reins. The thing that he noticed most, though, was that there were no cult members.

The city seemed to be functioning better than any he had seen for a long while--well-kept streets, immaculate shops and temples. It didn't look like Phracia, for color and brightness seemed to live here.

"On a first look, everything looks unbelievably nice," Euphos answered. "I'm guessing we all know that means it's not, or am I the only suspicious person here?" The hunters' silent glances reassured Euphos of their tacit agreement.

They rode for the temple district, the home of the major gods of their world. Surprisingly, there were many taverns on the way to the district, with their share of drunks stumbling into the streets. Most of the people were dressed in robes, the entire town being dedicated to the worship of the gods. Almost all the people helped in some capacity at the temples. Euphos had been here many times, always to talk to Schute. The temples were beautiful, particularly the temples of the god of purpose, Buw, in whom Euphos had taken an intense interest. Buw's temples were black, with a yellow disk representing a sun surrounded by a tree, and a satyr alongside. Euphos thought about his time as a hunter and the events in his childhood that had led him to the profession. His spirit seemed to dictate the events of his life, the people he befriended, and the bounties he sought.

At one intersection where wooden homes and tenements were built on the corners, avenues led alongside the yards of the temples, the first temple dedicated to the god Ides, the domain of will, which celebrated the fact that intelligent beings possessed the ability to determine their own paths without coercion from outside forces.

The temple of the god of battle, Vict, had red walls and the symbol of a battle axe adorning the columns. A gladiator with fist blades knelt in the courtyard, no doubt praying to the god for victory. Many gladiator arenas were built on the periphery of Leuctus, and the combatants benefited from having temple clerics at the events.

"I'd like to see a match or two before we get on with the quest," Euphos said.

"Believe me, we will," Bronty said forebodingly. Euphos glanced at the druid. "You'll get your chance," she added.

They wound their way along the avenues until they came to a square with fountains and a magic user's guild where many surrounded the square practicing tracings, the somatic components of spells. A young man in a blue tunic drew a shape with his hand in the air, and as his palm moved, a line with a red glow formed. When he finished, a complicated but attractive symbol hovered in the air, looking like calligraphy.

He whispered and the tracing morphed into a fiery phoenix, then flew high into the grey sky before detonating into flames. Another caster traced a yellow symbol, then cast the tracing. An energy ray blasted a wooden pole at the back of the guild, a target dummy.

Arcane magic could even be stored in the tracing, to be used at a distant time. The most powerful users could store many tracings but would have to continue to direct magic energy into them in order to maintain their effectiveness. Most casters could keep about five, but some very powerful casters could store many more.

Tric hovered from Euphos's cloak and circled the acolytes, and before long the whole lot were laughing at his erratic movements and sounds. The students studied Tric, fascinated by a conscious tracing. Then Tric swooped to join the hunters as they trotted up a hill where the main road rose to a higher level. Temples to other entities lined the path, and some were unusual buildings, like where a simple canopy blocked rain from the stone floor of a temple dedicated to the being known as Sdu Max Dur. The being lurked in the outskirts of the universe, beyond the domains of all of the gods. A statue of the entity resembled a woman with a wide dress, black and slit into lengths that draped the feminine form.

This felt like home to Euphos, and soon Vursa's temple came into view. Massive sandstone walls rose high above the other temples, a simple rounded shape. The entire structure struck the observer with its contrast. Most of the other temples were ornate, with detailed design and art, with varying angled slopes and other technically advanced construction techniques.

Vursa's temple had rounded corners, and a simple four-walled structure that narrowed as it rose into the sky. The sandy paleness of the structure stood totally distinct in a city where every pain had been taken to add stained-glass windows and other beautiful and meticulous designs to other buildings. The simplicity of this design caused it to be more striking than the most elaborate temples of Proetas.

The hunters entered the temple. A brazier filled the vestibule with warmth, with massive simple rugs on the floor to insulate the room. The rugs, the interior walls, the furniture in the room all matched the color of sandstone. An etching of Vursa's symbol, a candle and its flame, representing the flame of life, welcomed visitors at the top of the high wall that divided the entry from the main chamber. Other people moved around the temple, their flowing sandy-hued robes sliding on the smooth stone floors.

The hunters entered the main chamber, another simple four-walled design. Columns lined a walkway that surrounded the vast room. Temple goers could walk three or four abreast around the walkway and were separated from the floor of the chamber by stairs that encircled the main service section. Many of Vursa's most loyal devotees sat in circles, listening to the instruction of her clerics. Schute stood amongst a crowd at the bottom of the chamber, the vastness of the room allowing many clerics to hold classes at once.

The cleric Euphos knew so well argued with another, then something in his periphery grabbed his attention. He saw the hunters standing at the top of the steps, and a smile brightened his face, followed by a concerned stare that Euphos had never seen on the usually cheerful cleric.

Lensus sat in his office at his hillside country home in Lectidomes, where night was setting upon him. As he wrote letters to his colleagues, the patch of air around him suddenly obscured his view of the office, the furniture distorted as if set in a blazing desert, the rising hot waves bending the vision.

A translucent entity surrounded his desk, sending vibrations to his temple. Its form was as a shimmering pond wave after a rock had broken the calm. Schute, no doubt, had sent a sound elemental with a communication. Lensus put his quill on the desk and listened.

"My friend Lensus, there is most dire news. You must do everything necessary to find those behind the Cult of Revolution. I love the goddess of life, and I say this: Use any method at your disposal to find those responsible, including dealing out death. Phracia is under attack, we know, but there is impending doom not just for her--for all Repath Aos Vio. Do anything and everything you have to. Your friend, Schute."

The entity made of sound dissolved and Lensus sat back in his chair and stared, his eyes not focused on anything. His mind spun.

\- * -

Schute set his walking stick against the corner of a chair and stood while the hunters sat. Schute had brought the hunters to a private room alongside the main chamber of the temple, securing the door, after he had updated them on the politics in the temple. Apparently Leuctus defended itself against the cult by simply ejecting the cult members from the city. The gods' worshipers would not put up with rabble-rousers disrupting the daily prayers.

The room had the same sandstone color as the rest of the temple, with simple furniture, a table, chairs, and bookcases. A single candle lit the space, its light made more powerful by Vursa's magic.

"Euphos," Schute began, "did your—"

Voyancer interposed his thoughts into the cleric's mind. _Do not mention his wife. I will tell you why afterward._

Schute paused, his intuition telling him Euphos had changed, become sick in some way. He continued with another line. "You taken any jobs in Phasebios?"

"No, I've been trapping, staying in my swamp."

Tric hovered into view.

"Tric!" Schute exclaimed. "My favorite magical friend in the universe!"

Tric bounced up and down, flashing and circling the cleric. "Yes, my friend, I've been thinking about coming up to see you, too."

Tric dimmed his light. Schute's mood went serious. "Tric, we need to discuss business." Tric hovered around Bronty, and she let him rest on her shoulder.

"You have come a long way, Euphos, and you know I would not have summoned you if I could've found someone closer to take the bounty--or, in this case, _bounties._ "

"I'm here, cleric," Euphos answered. "Don't say you're sorry--bounties?"

"Yes, three of them," Schute said, moving toward a bookcase. The cleric drew a pamphlet from a shelf and opened it up, the first illustration a muscled rat standing on two feet like a human. He wore a tunic with sleeves removed and had arms like those of a gladiator. The ratman, an unusually tall and physically powerful seever, held a mace in his hands.

"This is the Rat King," the cleric said as he held the picture up to the hunters' view. "He is located in Thephobium, as all the bounties are."

"He is a rat and a king, or is he a king of rats?" asked Euphos.

"Both. He commands a force of seevers, ever multiplying. The main purpose for the bounty is to cull those rats, then kill their king. They are destroying a town on the west side of Lectidomes, the town of Kleon. You may contact Rider Mass."

"Three of us for him?"

"Five if you count Tric."

Euphos raised an eyebrow. _Five? Did Schute wish to come along?_

Schute continued. "He is a caster and is an adept in the schools of corruption and enchantment. Very tall and strong, probably comes from the wilds of Stum Igbo, where the vermin are worshiped."

The Rat King wielded an army of seevers, and they were driving the townspeople from their homes and spreading disease to every corner of the territory. Kleon and surrounding towns were infested, with the Rat King about to take control.

"I'm a trapper," Euphos said, "but my game is much bigger that rats."

"The seevers are breeding rats and filling the town with them, according to our scouts. When the town is finally overrun, the Rat King will only have to come in behind and clean up."

Euphos could feel tension build up in his mind. The trips to the astral dimension didn't drain him physically, but the number of tasks he had to do were overwhelming his mind. He would keep his mouth shut about his quests in the spirit world to his hunter friends, but he must discuss the details with the cleric.

"I will provide you with all known information about the Rat King's specific spells and abilities, and of course a detailed map of the Hemia Forest, his home."

Euphos had heard of the forest and its wild magic. The trees in the forest guarded prehistoric magical plants that had grown to the size of the tallest woods and could drive people to insanity with secretions and poison traps.

"The second bounty is there in Thephobium, too, in the hills of the nobles." Schute showed them another picture--this one of a fleshy mob of a man named Gutto the Shiner. His massive form had been stitched together from different monstrous humanoids, and he controlled a noble's mansion that he had stolen from the noble. No one had seen the mansion in years, but those who got close recalled stories of misshapen murderers roaming the night.

"The final bounty is opposite Lectidomes, in a region of Thephobium high above the land. Rumors tell of an event centuries prior when a torch came from the sky and landed on a high mountain. No person has ever seen the top of the mountain--none that we know of, that is. Probably no one has ever survived to tell."

"You seem to be nervous, my friend," Voyancer said. "Why not just give us one bounty and then we can return for more?"

The cleric paused a moment, perspiration forming on his forehead. "Time is of the essence," he said, as if he had only seconds left to live.

Euphos had never seen the cleric in such a flustered mood. "What is wrong with you, cleric of Vursa?"

The man walked over to kneel below Euphos and put his hand on the hunter's arm. Euphos flinched, not because Schute intimidated him, but because of his overwhelming emotion. Schute put his faith in the goddess of life and had never seemed to worry too much about anything.

"Euphos," he said, "there have been many tasks I have given, and you have performed better than any bounty hunter I have known. The world is good, my friend. It is good. It just needs tidying at times. Bring those three to justice and you will do much to tidy it. Very, very much. I want you to believe this."

The cleric sounded like a desperate merchant trying to sell him a magic concoction. Euphos had no idea how to interpret the statement. Why the bits about the world being good? Euphos concerned himself with Phracia alone. "The world is not my concern. Phracia is."

"I am implying the world you inhabit only in a general sense," Schute said soothingly. "Yes, just Phracia."

"Ehem—" Bronty cleared her throat.

"And what is that for, our feral friend?" the cleric asked.

"Give me something for my time?" she prompted, inclining her feline-painted mask.

"Oh yes," he said apologetically as he stood and opened some shutters to reveal a safe he opened, then lifted a pouch from within. Schute seemed relieved that Bronty had changed the subject.

"This is traveling money," the cleric said. "Do the job and there's this as well." He set a massive saddle bag on the table, opened it up, and pulled out four bars of ghosydium, as purely bright as the metal could get--enough for mirrors.

The bars could be used to coat weapons, the hard metal forming an ultra-strong and durable finish able to strike spirit. A bar of this quality would sell for hundreds of talins, enough for a hunter to retire from taking bounties.

"For Euphos I have this, too." He opened a wooden case at the corner of the room and pulled out something covered in a dusky rag. He set it on the table and removed the covering. A metal stand held three shafts covered in runes.

"They are arrows," Schute explained. "Upon being nocked they transform into beings of pure energy known as Jecta. Simply fire them as you would an arrow. Do not ask me where they are from. They will kill anything they strike. Make sure they do not hit you."

Euphos gripped a shaft in his hand and studied the runes. He did not recall ever seeing any such symbols, though he had studied many languages to help him track his prey. If they did indeed kill anything they hit, they would be worth many times the value of the ghosydium.

"Voyancer—" the cleric prompted—"you were saying . . ." He nodded at the psionicist and opened the door, and they went into the main chamber. Bronty stayed behind.

"We're here to help you, Euphos," she urged. "Don't feel embarrassed to ask us any questions. We are quite a powerful group here: a druid, a psionicist, and a hunter with unrivaled aim. The only thing we need is a friendly torch to help us at night, the best time to hunt."

Tric sped back and forth like a pugilist, dodging blows and striking.

\- * -

A warrior dodged a clawed strike by his opponent and then brought his shield hard into the other's chest. The masked fighter wobbled back, and the warrior pursued, slashing at the mask. The crowd gasped with every move, block, and thrust.

The hunters had come from Schute's temple directly to the arena: a quick ride from Leuctus. Worshipers of the god of battle, Vict, built the arena centuries back to be able to properly worship their god, hosting battles daily, giving the god power by worshiping at the altar of combat.

The masked fighter blocked and took a small shield wound to his arm, then smashed the warrior's chest while striking with his bladed gauntlets. The warrior lifted his shield just as the masked fighter bulled forward and was just able to deflect the bladed strikes.

The hunters sat high above the arena, watching to find their fifth member, a strong fighter known as Mursk, and a member of the Spectral forces at Eudybium tasked with protecting Phracia from an invasion by Stum Igbo. Schute suggested such a man for these especially dangerous bounties. The arena's preliminary matches hosted a variety of fighters, and Mursk would be fighting in a coming match.

The warrior hit the dirt on his back and the masked combatant jumped on top of him, pressing his wrist blade on the warrior, whose shield stopped the attack.

The masked fighter moved forward and pounded his blade downward as the warrior dodged his head and the blade pierced the dirt. Suddenly the masked fighter stopped moving.

The crowd quieted and stared intently.

The masked fighter slumped and the warrior threw him to the dirt, having driven his dagger into the masked fighter's flesh while the fighter straddled him. Blood ran from a blade wound up through the fighter's groin. The warrior stood, and the crowd cheered while attendants rushed the arena with clerics in tow. They picked up the body and placed it on a stretcher.

Though clerics were there to revive the wounded, magic granted by Vict himself, the masked fighter had opted before the fight to refuse any mending magic. It was a matter of reputation: he would risk death in order to intimidate his opponents.

Gates opened in the arena walls and the fighters vacated the space. A robed man entered with a flower wreath on his head and stood alone.

Euphos scanned the crowd. The people were mostly men, and their jolly manners made them like the oblivious undead, as if they were animated without any sense of the precarious position of the other states. A man rocked back and forth, hollering at the announcer in glee, taunting him with jeers. Smiling and laughing, he seemed to be living in a different world. Euphos enjoyed the sport, but the pressing problems on the continent were starting to weigh too much on his mind. If the cities were being torn to pieces by all manners of forces, including the cult, the arena matches would be irrelevant.

Leuctus did not recognize the cult and would not allow them any room in the city, because they would not risk the anger of the gods. The cult refused the gods' wisdom, choosing to worship chaos, and they would no doubt destroy everything in Leuctus if allowed in.

Suddenly a woman grabbed his attention. She wore a beautiful robe, and her hair spilled blond and shiny onto her shoulders. Euphos felt his chest pound, then panic set on him.

"Pressia!" he blurted as he suddenly stood. "Where are we? I should go home . . ."

Voyancer put a hand on his shoulder.

"What's the problem, Euphos?" he asked. The people around the hunters cast concerned glances at Euphos.

"I need to . . . go home today, yes."

Bronty pointed to the arena. "Euphos, there, there he is," she said to distract the hunter. Euphos's mind blanked and he sat. Confusion gripped him until the movement in the arena did, and the memories crept back onto their perch.

_I worried about that, about Euphos seeing women in public,_ Voyancer telegraphed with psionics to Bronty, who gave a worried glance.

"We are lucky today," called the announcer. "Thank the god of luck, Fyn--we have none other than Shebiss, a hexblade, a warlock with terrible alliances!" An elf, with black hair and a hell-black suit of mail, stepped into the arena. He wielded a long blade and showed himself to be a hexblade, a warlock with the melee skills of a fighter. They used infernal pacts with unholy sources to empower their physical prowess, in addition to curses and other baneful spells. Most warlocks concerned themselves with spells alone, casting dark-magic ranged attacks like black energy bolts.

The people booed and cheered, most deciding to boo. Shebiss stared blankly at the crowd.

"His opponent is a Knight of Dawn, a soldier of righteous fury who defended us from the hordes of ogres when he fought in the north of Eudybium. He is Mursk!" Cheers erupted from the coliseum.

"A knight would do us good, would allow me to stay back," Euphos commented.

"Let the match commence!"

Shebiss and Mursk were suddenly the only people left in the arena. The knight held a sword and shield and wore plate mail. He lifted his sword and approached the hexblade.

Shebiss pivoted. He mouthed something and a cloud of black tendrils snaked around his body. His blade became as black as midnight and his eyes reddened like magma. 

# Chapter 6

Mursk raised his sword to the sky and a shimmering shield of energy encircled his form. He pointed his sword at the warlock. "You will be judged," he said, presenting his challenge.

Shebiss attacked and swung his blade at the knight with two quick thrusts. Mursk parried and then slashed at the warlock. Shebiss hopped back and put a hand to his temple and shut his eyes.

A bolt of red energy burst from his sword.

Mursk blocked with his shield, while the spray from the bolt sparked. He pushed forward, but his feet slid back, the pressure from the bolt too powerful.

Shebiss walked forward, pushing the knight back until the warlock hit a depression in the dirt and fell to his knees. Mursk saw an opportunity. He threw his shield at the warlock and knocked the blade out of his grip. Shebiss barely dodged a serious blow from the knight, then stood and maneuvered to his blade.

Mursk waved his blade and a massive fist of holy magic pounded the warlock back into the dirt. The knight continued to smash the warlock with the fist until he went unconscious.

The knight walked up and put his foot on the back of the warlock. "Let this be a warning to the evil who walk the world. You cannot escape judgment!"

"Finish the bastard!" yelled a woman in the crowd.

"He will live!" cried Mursk. "He will repent for the error of his ways--this is my judgment!"

Calls for a finish became cheers. The crowd clapped as the announcer and attendants entered the arena with a stretcher. They put Shebiss on the stretcher and hauled him to the medical ward.

"The winner and reigning champion, Mursk!" the announcer yelled as the knight raised his arms in victory. The crowd erupted and then stood to vacate the arena. Daily matches began at sun-up, and in the heat of the afternoon the crowd would need time to rest, as would the gladiators themselves.

"A reminder," the announcer continued. "We will be holding a match . . ."

Mursk waved to the crowd and Bronty asked, "Where do we go to talk to the knight?"

"We will meet him at the fighters' portal," Voyancer responded.

The attendants were in the holding tunnels with Shebiss's unconscious body when he awoke. He opened his eyes with the sound of crowd's cheers in his mind. "I will not lose," he muttered. He closed his eyes and concentrated. The attendants suddenly felt the stretcher lighten and looked down to find a black smoke cloud.

Shebiss reappeared back in the arena behind the knight. Mursk was still waving at the crowd as they funneled out of the coliseum. He turned to make sure the entire crowd could see him, and his smile turned to horror as he saw the warlock before him.

Shebiss impaled the knight where he stood. Mursk gripped the blade as blood trickled out of his mouth.

Screams echoed from the coliseum and the crowds put their attention back on the arena pit. The announcer stared in disbelief.

"You have been judged," Shebiss said.

Clerics of Vict came from the arena tunnels and surrounded the knight. They cast their powerful healing spells until Mursk rose from the dirt. Vursa and Vict had made special rules for arena magic, particularly in the vicinity of their temples.

The clerics picked Mursk up and hauled him to a portal at the side of the arena. Bronty and Voyancer prepared to go to where he would emerge into the crowds once fully revived.

"Hold on," Euphos said. "Let's consider getting the warlock instead."

Bronty's brow furrowed. "You joking? He could never be trusted."

"He's probably fighting only for the money, willing to do anything to win," Euphos responded powerfully. "We can offer him more than he's ever going to get here."

"We can trust him because of the bounty? I'm skeptical of that. He's a warlock."

"The bounties are enough to keep him trustworthy. He has made a pact after all, even if it was a pact we wouldn't make. He's trustworthy in that regard."

"Euphos may be right," Voyancer said. "Our journey will no doubt be harrowing. We need as much power as we can get, and the warlock has demonstrated his determination. Still, it is no doubt risky. He cannot be trusted."

"No one can be trusted," Euphos said grimly.

With a warlock warrior the risk of treachery went up. But the bounties were unbelievably powerful, on the other hand. Without the warlock they might not be able to even attempt to collect.

"We don't know the full gamut of powers we're up against here," said Euphos. "If there's any indication that he's unfaithful we will take action."

"This is all hypothetical. Let's find the warlock," Voyancer said.

\- * -

The hunters found Shebiss at the combatants' portal and he put a hand on his blade when he saw the hunters approach.

"What is it?" he asked, wary.

"We would like to talk to you about bounties," Euphos answered.

"You are here to collect? Don't think you'll be getting paid today."

"We are pursuing bounties," Euphos continued, "for a big seever with magic, a murderer who's been stitched together, and another that we have only vague details of."

The warlock eyed the hunters. "Who put you up to this?"

"We want a fourth member," Voyancer replied. "The bounties will be done one after the other. We came here simply to find a solid warrior. You're definitely impressive, even if it was not a forthright performance."

The warlock seemed to be seconds away from a scowl at every moment. "I make quite a bit killing in the arena, but you do not look like wayward scum, precisely. The bounty?"

"A full cast of ghosydium if we are successful."

Shebiss's eyes widened. "From who?"

"Cleric of Vursa, at the temple here in Leuctus," Euphos said.

"I will see it myself," the warlock answered. "If I deem it worthy, and you fit for the task, you will hear from me today. Does this cleric know of your skill?"

"Yes, I have collected many bounties from the temple."

"Do not follow me," he said as he mounted a black warhorse and turned its head toward Leuctus. "I will return."

"He gets right to the point, I'll say that," Bronty said.

The hunters toured the coliseum, where the names of the gladiators were etched on the stone walls, and their victories, too. A statue of Vict stood at the entrance, as tall as the upper levels of the structure. The god's hair spilled from a full helmet and his mail suit resembled advanced technology with precise segments to protect the god's every limb. He wore a fur cape and held a blade and a bow, with arrows stored in a quiver strapped to his thigh.

"We will be needing his help, I have a feeling," Euphos said quietly as he stood in the god's presence. "Hail Vict--hail victory."

The warlock returned to the hunters very quickly with his decision to accept their offer. He told them that he would kill anyone he believed endangered his life, including them.

"I do not tolerate stupidity. If I believe any of you are incompetent, or see signs of such, I will leave, unless you endanger my life--then I will end yours."

"I agree with most of that," Voyancer replied, "but I would try to find out why someone did something before I made a judgment."

"When do we go?" the warlock asked.

"Where are you from?" Euphos replied.

"My home is where I decide it is, and only for the time being. I come from Buess in Siopath."

Buess translated to "foul vale" in late human tongue, on the continent native to elves. Their lands were unbelievably beautiful, the vivid native flora opposite to Phracia's gloom. Siopath was a utopia of gold, green, red, and many other colors, and places such as Buess, with its burned forests, were home to those with evil impulses or untoward motivations.

"We are not going to play games, warlock," Euphos advised. "It seems you do not like games either, other than your matches. Refrain from wasteful killing and disregard for innocents or this partnership will not go forward."

The warlock stared. "I will not spend energy killing anything until it gets in my way."

Bronty noted the "it." The warlock did not hold life in much regard.

"Just make sure your way is going in the same direction as ours," Euphos commanded.

They equipped their mounts in the city and took the road leading north from Leuctus. They would stay on the path up to Hykrasius and Theodystynes, the two states between Trobia and Thephobium. They could travel through Rystocrates, the other state between the hunters and Thephobium, but that route would be longer, and the governors of the state would demand a hefty toll.

"My name is Bronty and this is Voyancer," Bronty said to the warlock as they were riding along a busy road, having to keep within two widths to allow traffic to move.

The warlock didn't give her a glance. "Yes, a druid and a psionicist--a cloudman," he said. "I will keep that in mind."

The warlock did not exhibit emotion other than his desire for restitution. In a way that made making party with him more predictable and less chaotic than with more complex souls. Still, the warlock could never be entrusted with their safety unless he saw personal benefit. If he believed he could secure the bounties without them, they would be ditched, metaphorically and literally.

They rode until night, Hykrasius still a day's ride away. They found an inn surrounded by a wild prairie full of Grey Fey--sylphs, spriggans, and nymphs much like other fey but connected to Phracia's spirit and sharing characteristics of the spectres and undead that populated the cloudy world.

A sylph flew into view, its body ghostly, its wings more decoration than practical, and its form that of a tiny elven woman. Bronty painted herself a mask with pink and blue and gold sparkles and spoke to the sylph. "You live in the prairies here?" she asked, a simple question to establish the sylph's technique of communication.

The sylph sent Bronty a mental communication in reply, an impulse that contained affirmations as fluid thoughts and negations as static sensations. She said yes, in her own way.

"Do you know anything about the journey to Thephobium that I could find useful? I'll give you this in return." Bronty cast a spell, giving the sylph a tiny lute. The sylph strummed the lute, its strings sounding like coins dropping into a sack.

Bronty felt the sylph's impulse to beckon, something like a lasso being tightened around the druid's mind. The sylph twitted her wings and flew a distance from Bronty, then spun around and grabbed Bronty's attention.

"You can handle getting rooms for us, right?" she said to the party. "My friend here wants to guide me somewhere."

Euphos didn't think it wise for Bronty to follow the sylph anywhere, but then again, the druid could commune with the spirits of nature. Trobia would be relatively safe for her, compared to other states. But that didn't mean she should be wandering the woods.

"You find trouble, give us a sign," he responded.

The sylph led Bronty into the grassy prairie, the thick white stalks tall and bouncing in the wind. Night came on and the sylph's body glowed a ghostly blue, illuminating the path they kept to as it wound up a hill.

Trees with massive trunks and shadowy tops stood alone, and the hilly prairies were like long and powerful waves of the ocean. The sylph's body drew a blue path as she flitted up a hill. The light streams hung in the air for a long while and allowed Bronty to see the way she had come from. "Sweetheart, where are you taking me?"

They walked near a tree, and Bronty could see a squat man, as tall as her knee and with only a loincloth on--a spriggan. "Milady," he warned as he hopped into their way. "You should get yourself back to your friends, or you'll be sorry! I would advise you to give me a kiss or all sorts of evil demons shall press on you!"

"I think the only demon around here is the demon in your head—" she said as she ascended the crest of the hill. She couldn't finish her sentence when she saw the other side.

Hills rolled around a wide valley, and in the floor of it, thousands of people congregated. Tents and firepits dotted the hills, and people filled every section of land with blankets for beds. A man spotted Bronty.

"Who are they?" she asked the sylph as they came within sight. "They're everywhere." The men were bearded and the women wore flowers in their hair.

"Come join us, sister. We are making the world a better place, and you are another facet of that." The man nodded at her mask and walking stick. "A druid--wonderful."

It took her a moment to understand that these people were the cult. She had never seen this many of the cult together, though it was said to have grown unbelievably in recent times, possibly because of the success of the Spectral Empire. Spektros drove back the vile inhabitants of Chwangau in the south and the ogres in the north, and the Frissians had never been safer from intruders. They abused this benefit.

"Why did you join the cult?" she asked.

"It is time--that is why," he replied. "The world is becoming paradise, and we must tell our brothers and sisters that they should not let the chains of oppression hold them any longer."

"Chains of oppression?"

"Yes. Man, woman, they are supposed to live in liberty, not bound to each other but bound to humanity as a whole."

He explained that he had come from Theodystynes and joined the procession in order to liberate himself from his family, to join a bigger family. As long as they thought of all of humanity and not just their own families, the cult would achieve utopia.

"As people see how we live, they become like us. This is how we bring love and conquer hate. Hate divides us, separates us."

"Hate motivates us to bring the guilty to justice," Bronty replied. "The hatred of the murderer, of the thief, is why I do what I do. It is another emotion, and as much as I worship the spirit of nature, I also see the results of its anarchy. Be good, sir." She turned to return to the inn.

The man had smiled as he listened to Bronty, but he understood only chaos, anything that would bring destruction to the ancient way of things. Progress would only come when the stabilizing forces were destroyed--like marriage, like monogamy--and people could become "liberated."

Bronty had witnessed lawlessness in Rontus Pikaurus, and personally paid for it. Law needed to be implemented if people were to live in harmony. The cult believed that tolerance would make utopia, and since law did not tolerate, it had to be destroyed. Everything should be allowed, because the law was intolerant and hateful.

The sylph followed her all the way to the door of the inn. "I love you," Bronty told her new friend. "Remember that, and tell your friends to be good, too." The sylph hovered higher to kiss her on the cheek.

\- * -

Euphos had put his mount at the stables of the inn and watched Bronty ascend the hills. The sylphs and nymphs lit up the night. A nymph danced in the high grass, her sheer dress barely covering her body. Other fey played, too. A sylph whirred around a spriggan as he picked up his feet in rhythm to the claps of other fey.

The hunter decided to ascend a hill, too, but not the one she had climbed, lest she know he followed. It felt good in the warm night air and Euphos knew that Tric would enjoy playing with the fey.

Tric hovered from Euphos's open coat without a word or gesture to Euphos. He found a flitting sylph and circled around her until she got in his way and he bounced from the collision. She giggled and then flitted fast above the tops of the grass, and Tric chased her like a child.

Euphos's black garments would not be visible in the night, but he made sure to stay behind the hill to prevent Bronty from noticing him. Euphos liked to watch people's behavior when he wasn't around, to get to know them better after short acquaintance. The warlock and psionicist had paid for their rooms and would be discussing the particulars of the bounties. Euphos had traveled with dangerous individuals before, much like the warlock, and he found it best to keep them in sight, or know their precise whereabouts.

Those who chose the path of evil were assets in many ways. They simply would not hesitate to strike if intimidated, and thus they made powerful adventuring hires. They needed a specific reason to quest, with a specific goal, even if that goal included stabbing everyone in the back. Their focus and nonconscientious attitudes helped the drive to success. A world full of evil was often best kept in line by evil, playing the ends against the middle.

When he made it to the top of the hill, he saw the hordes of cult members bringing their traveling band of disaster to another state.

Were they evil? Did they purposely try to hurt others? Most didn't. But that didn't stop the destruction they brought on the land. Ghost towns arose everywhere the cult went. They raided farms and markets, accusing the owners of theft. After all, the land is limited and therefore if one person owns it, then another person cannot. It is theft by restriction.

The cult maintained that they should be able to share anything with everybody. Someone had to do the labor, though, and there was the problem. If I work the land, who gets the product? If I don't get a fair share, why produce? I toil, and you who are slothful get the same return I do?

The wars in Eudybium to keep the hordes from destroying Phracia had united the Frissians in all previous times. But today the cult did not comprehend the horrors that would rain upon them if the lines broke. Or maybe they did. Suicide or slavery--the possible outcome didn't seem to bother them.

Euphos crept along the hill, toward Bronty. She was speaking to a cult member, and Euphos could just about make out their discussion. She asked the man questions and listened. Finally she said that hate is why she brought to justice those who'd committed evil. The way she professed her intent, her words revealed that something had happened to her, made her pursue the guilty.

Euphos kept his grip on his bow. She could handle herself, but he would intervene if they attacked her. _Good, she started back to the inn,_ he thought. He followed at a discreet distance and saw her safe into the inn before he entered, too.

In the morning the hunters started before sunrise. They rode up the main highway and would enter Hykrasius before night, after a series of hills that made their ride seem like the trip on the schooner. Euphos reflected that though Bronty might be sympathetic to the cult, it relieved him that she still seemed to reject much they professed.

"The cleric said he had put together an army of counter-cult members," Voyancer announced as they trotted up a hill. "A force to combat the proliferation of cultists. They will be warning people about the cult before they are entranced by its followers. They will try to debate the followers, convince them to go back to their homes."

_Good luck with that,_ Euphos thought. Then he spoke. "If they were logical they wouldn't be wandering the land, wasting their efforts transforming the world without having any plan for their utopia. Maybe that's the plan itself. To bring chaos to Phracia." Euphos was keeping the warlock in his peripheral vision. "What do you say about that, warlock?"

"Their lives are useless," he replied. "Most beings are mere fuel for the flame."

Euphos did not agree, but then again, he lived in a swamp, with nobody around his home for an hour's ride. They should not be mere playthings for the conspirators, but people often made him uncomfortable.

The hunters made it to Hykrasius on schedule. "We should be to the first town soon. We can find a campsite there." At the town of Daekos, the first structures had wide open doors and broken windows. They saw clothes, furniture, and all sorts of personal effects scattered on the ground. The town could have been hit by a windstorm. Building after building had been looted and abandoned, and at the other side of the small town, people were stealing items from a shop and smashing them on the hard-packed dirt road.

"Behold--there may be no reason to clean up the vermin in Kleon if these people get there first," the warlock remarked. Cult members harassed a woman and a merchant. They ripped their clothes and yanked the woman around by her blouse.

Three horses stood at the entrance to the merchant's shop, and cult members pushed the horses and hit them with lengths of rope.

"Hang them!" one cult member shouted, his hair matted and his body filthy. The other circled around and snatched at the merchant, driving his arms up behind his back.

Euphos rode forward and halted before the scene. "Stop!" he ordered. "You're going to get out of here and let them go. If you don't, it's not going to be good for the lot of you."

"This is our town!" a cult member shouted. "Our buildings, our land, it's all of ours." The cult stood many abreast and continued to abuse the woman.

Euphos drew his bow, nocked an arrow, and aimed at the cult member holding the woman. "Let her go."

"You think you're her savior, huh?" mocked one of them. "You idiot, you're just as much a slave as they are."

Before Euphos could respond, a horse drew up on its hind legs, whinnying loudly enough to drown out the yells. Euphos heard Voyancer in his mind: _Come back, hurry._

The rearing horse suddenly transformed and stood, its back hooves becoming massive cloven feet as it maintained the standing position. The horse's body developed bulging sinews and its forelegs became muscled arms, those hooves stretching and forming claws.

_Wild lycanthropes._ Euphos cursed inwardly. These wild animals--horses, maxels, infines--transformed when provoked to become hulking monsters. Until recently the Frissians hadn't seen any of them and believed them to have been held at bay by the city militias. With chaos gripping the land, they were entering the towns without resistance.

The lycanthrope stomped forward and snatched a cult member, ripping the man into pieces with its massive horse-like jaws. Blood sprayed on the crowd, the people's screams adding to the loud hollers of the rioting cultists.

Shebiss drew his sword and raced at the lycanthrope. His sword glowed red as he slashed the monster's body. The other horses became similar massive monsters and pounded the cultists with their cloven hooves, crushing their skulls with massive fists.

Euphos aimed and fired at the leg of the wounded lycanthrope. His arrow punched into the shin of the monster: the tip tore the calf and came out the other side. The lycanthrope's leg buckled and it fell to a knee, grabbing at Shebiss's mount and yanking the horse to the ground. Shebiss was thrown and hit the dirt yards away from his horse.

The cultists formed a shield of sorts between the lycanthropes and the hunters they sought. Voyancer went in the mind of a cultist and coerced him to attack the monster. The man grabbed the arrow sticking from the lycanthrope's calf and pulled it through, then he stuck the monster in the throat while it knelt, the only chance to strike the towering beast in the neck with a melee weapon.

While Voyancer controlled the cultist, Bronty called on the nature spirits to infect the lycanthrope. The wound in the lycanthrope's leg rotted quickly and, unable to move, it swung its massive arms against the cultists, sending their bodies skyward.

A lycanthrope hunched and ran at Euphos with its shoulders aimed at his horse. Euphos's mount dodged and the lycanthrope followed with a strike that Euphos blocked with his long blade. The blow threw Euphos from his horse and he stood quickly to avoid another blow.

Shebiss's eyes reddened. He whispered a hellfire spell and a storm of fiery rocks pounded the lycanthrope. The air around the warlock hissed like a geyser. Blood and flesh covered the dirt. The lycanthropes had killed several cultists and would not stop until the hunters were dead. Bloodlust controlled them, and their only purpose was to satisfy that lust.

Bronty did not see a massive rock thrown at her by the third lycanthrope. She felt a sudden urge to move her neck, implanted by Voyancer with psionics. The rock flew behind her and smashed into a shop. She shot a glance at Voyancer to let him know she owed him, and he grabbed another cultist.

Euphos surveyed the scene. Two lycanthropes were wounded, and his own back hurt from the monster's strike. The third had killed all of the remaining cultists and stood glaring at the hunters with its wide-set eyes. Euphos could not remember the last time he had fought the wild killers. In fact, he did his best to try and avoid them during his hunts as they were powerful foes who did not bring bounties.

He nocked an arrow and fired at the lycanthrope who burned from Shebiss's spell. The arrow hit the monster's chest, and its massive body called up a powerful neigh that vibrated the hunter's chest. The horse-headed monster picked up a body and threw it at Euphos, who ducked as the body smashed into the timbers of a wall.

Voyancer rode at the lycanthrope, which pivoted and ran back at him, so Voyancer sent his horse away and then floated up as his body density became cloud-like. Euphos caught a glimpse: the legends were true. The cloudmen could alter their bodies at will. The lycanthrope tore toward the psionicist, but just before it hit, Voyancer reformed his density as if he were a statue made of the weightiest metal known. The lycanthrope pounded the psionicist, and its massive body cracked into the cloudman and was thrown back as if it had just hit a fortress wall at full gallop. Voyancer then transformed his body back to a cloud-like density and hovered to the dirt.

The third lycanthrope ripped a post from a shop walkway and bolted at Euphos. The hunter fired an arrow and hit the monster in the knee. It wobbled forward and swung the wooden post in a wide arc. Euphos bounded back, but when he landed a pain stabbed at his back and he hit the dirt. Another strike with the post smashed toward him, but he lifted his shoulder and dodged. The post hit his quiver and crushed the contents. Uh oh, Euphos thought. Not just the arrows, but the Jecta shafts were inside the quiver, too.

Bronty cast a protective vine spell that surrounded Euphos, the vines growing around his entire body and then shooting out to grab a tree alongside the road. The vines slung him backward, his body wrapped in their protective grip.

Shebiss cast a dire symbol, the infernal icon drawn into the dirt around the lycanthrope, burning it with the unholy fire that came from the symbol. Shebiss stepped into the symbol, too, but the magic empowered his blade rather than burning him. He slashed at the lycanthrope, his blade severing its ankle and sending the monster's body into convulsions.

"I need time to recast my spells," the warlock shouted. "We need to end this!"

The lycanthropes were all wounded, not dead. They were gathering strength in their wild forms to attack again.

Euphos's vines untangled from him and he stood, his back feeling better from their healing embrace. Blood and limbs were strewn in the dirt of Daekos, adding grisly gore to the wrecked furniture and other shop contents the cult had destroyed. At the other end, he saw more horses. "Let's get going," he said. "There are more behind us."

Euphos removed his quiver and checked its contents. All his arrows were broken, and the Jecta shafts were shattered. He cursed loudly.

Bronty and Voyancer rode toward Euphos while he mounted. But Shebiss's mount did not move after having been yanked to the dirt.

"Who's he riding with?" Bronty asked. "His mount is injured."

"He'll ride with me," Euphos said as Voyancer gave him a glance. "He's my risk."

Euphos rode over to Shebiss. "We're going, and you can ride with me." Shebiss surveyed the battle. The first lycanthrope could hardly move, its wounds infected with Bronty's rot spell. The second wandered around, barely able to walk, its body bruised and still burning, and the third dragged itself at the hunters, its leg badly wounded from Euphos's arrow and Shebiss's strike.

The warlock mounted behind Euphos. "We will be in trouble if we find packs of those things in our way," Shebiss said. "Druid, can you heal my mount?"

"It will take too long," Bronty replied. "That pack of horses behind us could be lycanthropes, too."

"We'll avoid the prairies," Euphos assured him. "I just hope my friend still lives around Stassius. It's two hours' ride from here."

# Chapter 7

The hunters bolted from Daekos, taking a tertiary road that wound away from the main town. They rode north and west, avoiding the main highway, to find another highway that wound around mountains that blocked the view of the Shushed Channel. Night had completely taken the land and the hunters rode by the glare of the moons, several dotting the sky and casting a blue-and-grey glow on the land.

Euphos cursed himself. With the Jecta destroyed the bounties would be much more dangerous. He should've kept them on his mount where they would be safer in battle.

Grey-and-black rock formed walls on either side of the road. Grey shrubs and grass grew, indistinguishable from the rock, giving cover to the wild things that stalked the land.

Euphos replayed the battle in his mind. The wild monsters they encountered were growing in number, as were the ghost towns. As they rode, he felt more secure in his decision to hire Shebiss. In their first battle, the warlock definitely proved his worth.

Something tugged at his mind: the warlock did not offer anything about himself without being directly questioned, and then he said little. But then Euphos always surrounded himself with hunters, powerful and potent, that he knew almost nothing about. He did the same thing at his swamp in Phasebios and he had no uncomfortable feelings there.

The Asylum of the Wracked had no walls or structures. One tower stood, and all around that tower were spirits. Some wandered, others hovered back and forth, locked in their minds. Still others sat on chairs or other simple furniture. The scene reminded Euphos of the hordes of the Cult of Revolution.

Moans and other wails, spirits having conversations with invisible friends, and other sounds murmured a long distance in the astral dimension.

_Wow, I hope I don 't sound this insane to people,_ Euphos thought. From the outside he looked calm, but if an observer could see inside his mind, they would see something much worse.

Euphos spotted a woman spirit who moved slowly in the "yard"—the asylum grounds. Her long red hair struck Euphos, her beauty yanking him from his quest. He remembered why he wished to make a safe home for himself in his swamp.

Women were like the wild lycanthropes he had just fought. They could be difficult to control. His experiences with women were often more unpredictable than his bounties--Euphos remembered one he had met on a bounty, a hunter like him. He grew deeply attached to her and then she simply vanished during the hunt. Euphos secretly resented women's independence, resented his inability to control them as he did his blade.

His attention went back to the yard, where he sensed the discord coming from the spirits at a foundational emotional level. They were an orchestra playing the most awful notes, hitting all the wrong dissonant tones, but they had no instruments. The disturbing sensation arose only at an instinctual, spiritual level.

Euphos hovered around to get a good view of the population of the asylum. The yard was massive, with countless spirits hovering like a colony of insects. Suddenly the Storied Lighthouse, the herald of the astral dimension, flew from the sky and touched Euphos on his shoulder. His black wings were colossal, able to shelter twenty spirits inside their cover. "I would like to assist you, hunter," he said.

The angelic ambassador hovered with him down to the yard, and Euphos could sense a distinct vibrational shift when he stepped onto the asylum property. His smooth perception of his emotions became jagged and bounced around like a wild horse ride. Ugly rips in the fabric of his mind made him feel insane, almost unable to put a coherent thought together. "I know I am not here just to find Vau Geru."

"Why then are you here?" the black angel asked.

"Something hangs over me, some memory that I cannot quite grasp, something like my neck in a guillotine. I stare up at the imminent blade, a blade that hangs by a tense rope. The blade is loosed and I feel it cut in, bit by bit, like the event is slowed down and the moment stretched to infinity."

"Why do you feel this?"

"Is it because my soul is wracked, as theirs are?"

"Wracked Souls are not formed with defects. Defect is a subjective quality. There is a discord between their nature and the space they inhabit. It may be the case that there is nowhere they can go to find a fit for their spirit." The angel's controlled disposition, his even temper, seemed to become more empathetic. "You will be able to find more about your nature here where there are many like you, as they share much the same unrest as you do," he continued.

"This event that I can feel," Euphos tried to explain, "it did something to me, but I don't know what the event is. I can barely hang on to my mind. It is crushing me."

"I can tell you that your essence is very fractured, its components broken beyond belief. We have never encountered anything like it. But you are persevering, and it is something even the gods are enraptured with."

The gods were paying attention to him in particular? Then again, they could watch everything, all at once.

"There are powerful forces with you, Euphos. You are good, and your challenge is to not let your soul's condition bend your nature, my friend." The angel flew high, to join the currents of souls who traversed the dimension of eternal night.

Why did Vursa make Wracked Souls? This seemed to be against her nature to give spirits defects on purpose. But then, just as Cjonah said, Wracked Souls were filled with conflict and would pursue trouble, which could benefit everybody as long as the trouble they were pursuing involved making things better, such as Euphos's career as a bounty hunter.

Euphos reflected upon the Storied Lighthouse's comment, "You are good . . ."

If the angel believed Euphos to be good it would be because the hunter lived a righteous life and kept to Bas's scriptures, walking the path that the god set up in his Keys to Empire and other holy scriptures. Euphos kept his promises, worshiped the gods, honored his family and traditions. He never attempted to dominate his fellow man other than as punishment for crimes. He toiled for his own prosperity, never attempted to take from anyone else, lived with the law. Brought criminals punishment, called out corruption and conspirators, never attempted to deceive, conspire, never attempted to infringe upon individuals' god-given rights.

Euphos understood that a righteous life belonged to an individual, not a collective. The gods judged individuals, not groups. Upon seeking to enter their kingdoms a spirit would be judged individually, using only that spirit's deeds in life to determine their worth. If a spirit would be judged by the actions of peers it would be because that spirit kept corrupt relationships and did nothing to straighten the corrupt.

The modern collective thinking dismissed the individual, rationalized the suffering of people, saying this would not be important because the whole survived and prospered. Anything and everything could be justified. If only the collective mattered, why did intelligent beings matter? Why would murder be wrong, if the whole still survived? But life was sacred, and every individual would be invaluable, groups being merely collections of individuals.

Bas's scriptures taught all this and warned that those who did not live righteously would be judged. Euphos looked up, to the currents of souls above, and imagined what a spirit would see when it came to the temple where spirits would be judged.

\- * -

The Weeping Needle's Eye flew high above the land in the astral dimension. It served as a weigh station where spirits would go to be judged worthy or unworthy of life inside the gods' domains. The temple resembled a city floating in the sky, with two towers flanking a long white path that extended for miles, snaking around and glowing like the tail of a Sun Dragon. The path wound to a trapezoidal temple, pure white, where lines where the massive stone blocks had been mortared together drew irregular angles on the otherwise perfectly symmetrical building.

Spirits waited on the path, standing in lines that extended the whole length. To the spirits the building looked like a candle's flame viewed through sleepy eyes, a haze around the structure much like blurry light around the candle. Many tried to wipe their eyes to be able to see the building with no haze. Others shielded their vision, not just to protect from the brilliant glow, but because of a guilty conscience. Here is where they would be judged by the Needlemen, judged upon their actions in life, to be determined worthy or unworthy of eternal residence in the gods' kingdoms.

Three Needlemen guarded the entrance to the gods' kingdoms and judged one spirit at a time. All spirits in the immediate vicinity would be able to see and listen to the Needlemen's judgments, because the lines came to a wide hall as they got closer to the temple. The Needlemen stood at the portal to the temple with one standing inside the temple on a dais. One by one the spirits came forward and stood at the dais where they would make their case to be allowed into the gods' domains.

The Needlemen dressed in black robes and wielded pikes. Any being that transgressed or approached to attack would be slain and not a single force in the universe could penetrate the Eye's defenses. Their pikes could destroy planets at a whim, solar systems, even the universe itself.

The temple interior resembled a hermit's domicile with rotten wood and chairs that wobbled when sat upon, the opposite of the temple's epic grandeur seen from the path. Water dripped from the roof with damp ceiling joists flexing like recurve bows. A broken barrel filled with water sat close to the dais, its waterlogged wood bulging. A knife sat on a table and a hammock stretched from the wall to a post. Many spirits could gather inside the Needlemen's chamber, and when they had been judged they were put out of the chamber to make room for more. One came forward to the dais.

"My name is Mosium. I would like to travel to the kingdom of my god Tec, the god of logic, books, and knowledge, where I can study forever in his majesty's presence."

The Needleman spoke very quickly, with the omnipotence of the gods, and cast his judgment, aware that thousands more spirits waited. "In your life you were imprisoned for a crime you did not commit. You were accused of robbery and convicted because of false testimony from a rival. Upon serving your sentence you then sought this man and killed him."

Ashamed, Mosium could not look into the Needleman's eyes.

"What's worse is that you discovered your love of books and of Tec while in prison. It might be argued that you should thank this sinful man you killed."

Mosium looked up and began to protest, worried at the Needleman's musings. The Needleman continued. "This is not how the law works, however. A benefit gained does not justify the sins of this man and he indeed deserved wrathful punishment. Though we do not condone your action we will not forbid you entry into Tec's kingdom. You have lived a good life since then, and we determine that the system of law you were subjected to is corrupt. The sins of this man allow us to make this exception."

The Needleman opened a portal and revealed a brightness that caused the spirits filling the chamber to close their eyes. Joy filled Mosium as he stepped through the portal and began his eternal life in Tec's domain: a vast library of endless knowledge.

Many more judgments were made, with most spirits able to move on to their preferred domain. Another spirit with questionable life choices came forward. She wished to move to Vursa's kingdom. In her life she had caused much distress among her family.

"You were not faithful to your husband and did much to deceive him," the Needleman proclaimed.

"Another man seduced me, and I could not help myself," the woman countered.

"Another's actions do not determine yours. You have free will and thus are solely responsible. Whether this seducer is immoral is irrelevant--he is not married and thus has not broken any laws." Bas specified that those married, in exclusive relationships, should not stray, and if they wished to pursue physical relations with another person they should end the other relationship first. Though the woman did not seek to enter Bas's kingdom, all spirits must follow his laws, as the gods agreed that they would help bring tranquility, even allow intelligent civilizations to be built in the physical universe.

"In addition, you stayed with this man simply because you did not wish to work to support yourself with toil. Relationships of convenience make all involved unhappy. You wished to live a wayward life, to be with many men at different times. You should not have deceived your husband, pretending you wished to be with him exclusively." Bas had written that men and women should not enter into relationships under false pretenses and that promiscuous lives were not permitted for his followers. They should be monogamous and should seek to be with a relatively small number of different partners over a lifetime.

"You deceived your husband with many men and you must suffer consequences," the Needleman said as he cast the woman from the temple. She found herself in the Garden of Coteo, a dimension built for those who were to be forced to think about their transgressions for a time, maybe a century, and then return to the physical plane where they will relive their lives, able to return to the Weeping Needle's Eye again upon death.

Another soul came forward, a man who had done much to disrupt his country, Phracia. The man joined the Cult of Revolution and died when another man attacked him. "I wish to travel to the Pensers domain. I am the victim of a violent attack, and I hope that my attacker will be judged swiftly and righteously," the cult member asked. The Pensers controlled a domain that did not subscribe to any particular belief system other than the belief that all laws are unjust. The Pensers lived there, and they lived in perpetual chaos.

The Needleman did not reply for a time, until he made the cult member uncomfortable with an unswerving stare. "You continue to deceive even in the gods' presence. The man who killed you did so because you joined in on an attack on his farm. You destroyed his property and abused his family." The Needleman pointed his pike at the cult member. "In life you did much to disrupt the natural ways, and you refused to allow those who wish to live stable lives to prosper. You attacked the shop owner, the farmer, the inventor--all living good lives--and corrupted the law that should be there to protect them. They merely wished to enjoy their lives with their families, and to work to support themselves."

The cult member protested, "No I did not!"

"Most despicably, you did it under the banner of 'liberation,' as if freeing someone from liberty can be called such. There is no mercy for you, one of those who would cloak their conquest as good, to be given to people like a tonic to the ill. You will sow destruction in the lands of Magno." The barrel at the dais burst and the water flooded at the cult member's feet. It became like acid and burned the cultist's spirit. He howled in agony until his spirit flew to the domain where eternal suffering would be viewed as paradise to its god.

\- * -

The hunters came to Stassius late at night. Euphos's acquaintance did not live in the town anymore, but a couple ran an inn and gave the hunters rooms. Stassius consisted of a handful of homes and shops, the town mostly a waypoint between more populous cities in Hykrasius. They could make it to Theodystynes within a day, and one more to Thephobium--that is, if they didn't find themselves fighting unruly monsters or undead. Euphos would try to secure a horse for Shebiss in the morning. Riding with anyone behind him would be uncomfortable, but it was even more so with the warlock.

His trip to the astral dimension, to the Asylum of the Wracked, had inspired him to journey the recesses of his own mind, to find that source of horror, or sadness. He could not define the emotion precisely. He lay on a wooden bed, always with his blade and bow close. Something tugged at his mind, some event, the event he spoke of to the Storied Lighthouse. It became so tense and persistent that it was painful. His mind ached like a wound undone, the stitches bulging with pus and infection. He kept his mind on their bounties to avoid it, but the pain continued to bear down, almost distracting him from his quest.

This memory, Euphos pondered, could it be his time with the Necromancers of Terminal Damnation? Early in his life he had been a carrier of scrolls, employed by the merchants of Spektros. He transported contracts and communications to all corners of Phasebios. On a journey to the city of Brayce he decided to take a chance and travel the Burial of Empathy, a wide, arid land rumored to be the home of wicked spirits, of the souls of those with unfinished business on the world. His journey to Brayce would be significantly shortened if he could take the shortcut.

He would never have made it out of the cursed land if not for the necromancers. He had made it partway in when he heard whispers, sobbing, scratching metal on metal. The vast tract of land had been developed, built up to be the foundation for a new city. The plants were removed and the trees cut to make way for the advanced municipality.

The shifting magic ages spawned a massive battle at the burial site. The Age of the Intellect gave way to Destruction, the current age. Casters found their destructive spells vastly empowered, and spells that enhanced intelligence and invention such as Det's Mind of the Designer lowered in their effectiveness. This caused a shift to the study of the school of destruction, and magic users eventually brought their new powers to use in war.

Battles wiped entire cities from maps, and the land Euphos had journeyed into had been the site of a magic war. The city of the future became a symbol of the power of destruction magic. The belligerents of the war haunted the land in an eternal quest to inflict misery on their opponents, or any who dared enter.

Euphos rode fast, pursued by the sadistic spirits. His horse tripped and tumbled, and Euphos was thrown into a ravine where he struck his skull on the rough dirt. The spirits were yellow as if affected by fever, their forms blurry with undulations like clothes on a line in the wind. They tore into his body with strikes that cut his spirit, daggers of pure spectral composition. Euphos's spirit hacked to ribbons, he went unconscious from the pain. Almost at the point of a permanent death, much like being attacked in the astral dimension, his spirit would be destroyed permanently.

Burial spirits surrounded him, sharing in the glory of murdering an enemy. But a mist arose and entangled the spirits, its tendrils ripping their forms from the courier and trapping the malevolent spectres. This allowed the necromancers who cast the spell to rescue Euphos.

He awoke inside a massive temple, now in ruins from the wars of magic. Its walls were open in much of the structure, but tapestries with morbid symbols hung in the openings and magic fires lit the interior with a pale moon glow, blue and shadowy.

Floors were like parchment for the necromancers, their ritual magic circles drawn on every tile. Skeletons revived and restored with undead magic protected the entrances, their blades and shields rattling in their grip. Euphos smelled the rotted flesh within the temple, flesh that would be used for the whims of the necromancers. He gave his best effort to stand, finding that moving at all resulted in torturous shocks that pulsed like poison in his body. A man stepped into view, his eyes those of a mortician, black and rational. He wore furs around his neck, the rest of his body covered in tight black hide mail. His white skin probably had never seen the suns.

The necromancer said that Euphos's spirit needed to be patched together, and that Euphos would not be able to move until its slivers had mended. "You are alive, with a providence that is beyond our comprehension. Your spirit . . . it is worthy of an eternity of study." His words made more sense today, now that Euphos was familiar with the plight of the Wracked Souls.

The following days Euphos became the subject of the necromancers' operations. They put him on a table and performed a type of surgery that consisted of stitching his spirit together using spells and necromancy. These rescuers involved themselves with life and death and thus the domain of Vursa. They were not clerics who petitioned the goddess for power but individuals who sought to manipulate life and death forces using magic or other methods. They did not petition Botep, either. They used powers of demons and entities who lived independent of the gods, or who had arisen without direct intervention from gods. Necromancers themselves were often the independent entities.

Their techniques arose from foul methods, powers, and energies that were unknown to most who tapped into alien forces. Necromancers were gods in a sense, manufacturing and birthing new methods to manipulate the world.

The necromancer stood above Euphos and pressed his death-weaver hand against the hunter's soul, his touch empowered by unrepentant energies that glowed black with white wisps dancing like fire. He worked hours to reforge Euphos's soul, using unlawful techniques to drive the Biotian back from the brink. There were no candles, no torches or lanterns; instead the fires burned on piles of indeterminate refuse on the floor and lit the necromancer from behind, his form surrounded by a blue halo, a shadow hiding his countenance.

Euphos went unconscious again, the pain too intense to bear. He awoke on a stone altar, necromancers surrounding him. They were human, elf, and other, but all clad in black, with symbols and grave energy. Euphos sensed they were worshiping him, as if he were a god, but why? Insanity.

"You have survived to tell your tale," one said. "You've been at the precipice of annihilation. This is our bond and we wish to show you the possibility you have unlocked." The necromancers sat around Euphos and instructed him on travel to the astral dimension.

Euphos did not find the catalyst of his blockage and his anguish in his memories of the necromancers. He relived the days in his mind, and he still detected the painful presence beyond them. It all still haunted him, just beyond his point of view, tucked into a vault that could not be opened.

He came fully conscious soon after that, awaiting the dawn. His inn bed reminded him of home, stiff and uncomfortable. Just the way he liked it.

Shebiss, with a new mount, rode behind the hunters as they wound their way up the highlands of Theodystynes. The stabler at Stassius provided the warlock with a strong horse for a hefty fee, and they drove their mounts hard, deciding that the faster they could get to Thephobium the better.

"Phracia is shattering, factions from factions, and it could not be worse," Voyancer said. "My people detail the movements we see from high above, in the clouds. We have informants on the land who observe and report the events of your empire."

They discussed what they had learned in Stassius from locals they had met at the inn: the people recollected units of Spectral Empire troops marching in formation from the main cities of Hykrasius. They were conscripting the town guards from the cities as if there were no security worries, and chaos rose.

Euphos recalled a woman's story. She found her entire family killed, bodies strewn around her home, while thieves destroyed another's shop. The thieves removed a blacksmith's manufactures--blades, shields, and many other highly valuable items. Similar chaos struck towns in the rich states, the merchants having to flee to the capitals to be able to make a living. The guards there were ignoring the thieves, and the people were forming militias to handle the chaos.

"The town guards are dismissive," Voyancer reported, "until it comes to handling the people's militias, which threaten their monopoly on enforcing the law. The militias are willfully crushed while the thieves get away with murder. The enemy of the guards is the law, it seems."

He held up a doll he'd secured under a strap on his saddle to remind him and others he met that those tasked with protecting Phracia were more corrupt than ever. "This toy is all that remains of a family whose father, upon seeing his wife being raped by marauders, found city guards mere yards from his house. They responded to his shouts, then their swords wound up in his chest, and he watched them rape his wife while his own blood, his life spilled. Phracia's guardians are not only refusing to enforce the law, they are often its worst offenders. And the people refuse to hold the governments accountable. Criminals are attracted to positions of power, even more when they know they won't pay for their corruption."

Cloudmen used birds, people, and other entities, mechanical and living, to gather details about the world. The information was then transmitted to the kingdoms in the sky. Voyancer's report came thus, not just from the people of Stassius. "We have a network that spans Repath Aos Vio. The Spectral Empire is in dire trouble."

Euphos didn't know why Voyancer would be telling the hunters about his intelligence system. "Cloudman, you let your secrets be known--is there a purpose?"

Voyancer didn't flinch. He carefully chose his words. "Your observations are correct, Euphos. If you know that we are able to corroborate much of your concern, with our powerful technology, you will be more confident in your views."

_Voyancer finds it necessary to risk the ire of the cloudmen to inform me of his suspicions? Why would he do this?_

They came to a path that climbed for a long stretch as it wound high above the main road. The mountains got taller as they rode into them, and the plant cover gave way to dirt. On their right they could see fertile valleys become deserts. The clouds were blocked from entering the valley, and the suns shone. Theodystynes was the only spot in Phracia where the grey skies were blue.

The hunters undressed to tunics and pants to allow their skin to feel the suns, to feel the sensation of being hot. The dry temperatures seemed refreshing to them, as elsewhere on the continent a permanent chill and humidity always led to feeling grimy and damp.

When they came to the top of a high perch above a cliff, Shebiss spoke up. "We are being followed."

Euphos put his eyes on the distance behind them. "No, up."

Above, a cloud flew toward them, the only object in the sky. It sailed directly at the hunters, rather than keeping its altitude like a typical cloud.

"It wants to talk to us, to Euphos," Bronty said, able to detect a presence of an elemental intellect, a force born from natural processes. Euphos still kept his grip on his blade.

The cloud hovered and then stopped, just beyond their touch. It reformed itself to become a young girl, and then spoke. "We want to talk to the one known as Euphos. Are you he?" She had a girl's voice.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"A being of water, connected to all the other water on our world, but I talk to other elements--earth, fire, air--and we need to talk to Euphos."

"You're fine, Euphos. She is with us." Bronty gave him confidence.

"Why do you want to talk to me? You know me?" Tric hummed in Euphos's cloak and peeked to see the water element.

"I can't tell you the source of that knowledge, but we want you to know that you can contact us. We want to assist you in your efforts."

With the Jecta shafts destroyed, any assistance would be welcome, but Euphos needed to know why this elemental could have known about his quest. "Did Schute send you?"

"No. That is all I can say. You are a very honorable person, Euphos. Your bounties have helped to make the world safer."

Euphos's brow furrowed. Why all the praise? Schute had sounded awkward, as did the girl now. "I've helped rid Phracia of many of its worst inhabitants. There are always more, and I don't think I've made much of a dent on the terrors that stalk the night."

"You will. You're going to help tremendously. We are doing everything we can to bring Phracia back from the brink. Remember us, warrior, and tidings to your friends." The girl became vapor and rushed into the hunters' water bladders, filling them full of water that would cure disease and mend wounds.

"The help is good, but this recognition is worrying," Euphos said.

"I believe you know that this is not a normal bounty hunt," Voyancer reminded him. "The bounty alone should tell you that."

The talk about him making the world safer, better, didn't seem right. Bounty hunters weren't philanthropic souls who strove for justice--then again, maybe they were. First the money, then all moral considerations came after, for Euphos.

The girl's sudden visit seemed to be a good omen, something they needed after the battle at Daekos. Euphos hoped there would be no more surprises, even if good.

They continued on the high road and let the suns dry their perpetually damp clothes. The wide-open lands were beautiful, the whitish rocks and open prairies bright and very odd in Phracia. Riding along the mountains, the group could see the stratification of the rock, as if a massive titan had just cleaved the mountain with its blade.

"Why do you bounty hunt, Voyancer?" Euphos asked.

"I am not a bounty hunter as much as I am concerned about the world." Voyancer seemed to have much the same view as Euphos, only he did it for moral considerations first. "I enjoy the sport, you could say, but it is mostly the restoration of people's safety that concerns me. I am not an assassin. I would not take a bounty from a person who is evil."

# Chapter 8

"We're all assassins," Shebiss corrected. "We are killers who try to be as efficient as possible--best to be entirely unseen. Those who kill for justice are no different. A bounty given by a rogue to eliminate an enemy is no different from a bounty given by a cleric to help protect innocents. Beings compete for dominance and one tribe will always try to destroy the other."

"In the long run you may be right," Voyancer riposted. "There will be those that survive and prosper and those that don't. To me a world run by the likes of those from Chwangau is inherently worse than a world run by the righteous, even if this is a subjective view. The gods are mostly good, and they have set forth laws and principles that help those beings who want to live with liberty, independence, and respect. Magno's world is one of murder and chaos and will never thrive."

"Tell that to the hordes in Stum Igbo," Shebiss countered. The wildlands of the ogres were ruled by violence and their societies did not protect anything like individual rights. Their hordes perpetually attacked north Eudybium. The Spectral Empire had to continually reinforce its army with new soldiers as the hordes invaded, and in recent reports the hordes came more frequently. To Shebiss's point, their terrible society grew, with its ultra-violent ways.

They rode for the entire day, and made camp at night. They rode from the main path into a ravine and circled around the back of the mountain, then built a camp at the top of a hill that stood a distance from the main road. None who traveled the road would be able to see them, for the road cut back and up and divided the mountain, with one side blocking their camp. Bronty cast a warning shield spell to protect them from the nightmares that inhabited the sands.

Night came on and the hunters stared up at the moons, the stars, the unclouded sky, a reminder of the universe beyond. Euphos thought of Buw, the god of purpose. The concept of purpose seemed interesting. Ides, the god of free will, gave people control of their lives, but still, purpose could be anything--to murder and cause mayhem. Did Buw support this? Did Euphos have a purpose, beyond his wife--

Euphos convulsed--his neck shook and his shoulder smashed the dirt as he lay on his fur blanket, resting before his turn at watch. Annoyed at the disturbance, Shebiss sighed. Voyancer stood down from his watch position on top of the hill and rushed to check on Euphos. "Euphos?" he called quietly.

"I have to . . ." Euphos couldn't finish his sentence. It first seemed that an animal could be attacking, but Voyancer quickly saw Euphos staring up at him, his chest bellowing and perspiration reflecting the moons. He locked eyes with Voyancer. "I have to find her."

Voyancer bent to comfort him, to buy distraction so his mind would blank. "You should rest. I need some sleep, and you'll soon be up for guard duty." Euphos gained control and then lay back, believing that Voyancer had awakened him for guard duty. "Is it my turn?"

"Soon. You should rest. Don't worry--I'll wake you." Voyancer returned to his perch. The psionicist took account of the position of the moons and then continued his watch. The shadows of the wide desert scape were like pools of water, the tops of the dunes like islands. A perfect setting to think about the matters at hand.

Euphos's mind seemed to be shattering in slow motion, his condition worsening. Voyancer recalled this being the first episode of Euphos's that had not been triggered by a comment, a sight of a woman. The memory of his wife came from his own mind. Depending on the severity of the episodes, this could spell doom for their quest.

The cloudman saw unbelievable sights from his kingdom in the sky. Dragons destroying towns, empires imploding from treachery--but this hunter, Euphos, seemed more important, to possess a purpose, a power that made those events mere peripheral waves of a splash made from some vastly more vital source. Euphos's mind stood on an acrobat's wire high above a pit of murderous undead, and the whole world, maybe more, seemed to Euphos to stand on his shoulders. The hunter loved his country, as was obvious from his discussions with Voyancer, but there seemed to be something else driving the hunter, something even more fundamental, in his desire to save Phracia. Patriotism alone never ran so deep as Euphos's admiration for his country.

Bronty and the hunters slept soundly. Voyancer's relationship with the druid was becoming more important the more they traveled together. They seemed to be here to assist Euphos, to keep his mind together and be custodians to his purpose. Schute had feared for Euphos, when he and Voyancer discussed the hunter's condition. The cleric implored the psionicist to do everything he could to keep the hunter's mind sound. Voyancer suggested that they find another party member, but Schute refused adamantly--Euphos absolutely would be on this bounty hunt, no question.

Voyancer stared at the shining sky, stars like grains of sand. A flock of flyers drew their shadows on the moon Addi. They were probably undead, as living things simply did not fly this vast stretch of desert. Then he heard distant sounds, clanking, like a massive caravan of wagoners carrying their homes. The rattling got louder.

Voyancer ducked as the sounds swept close, obscured by the night but seeming to be moving like an ocean of metal ingots. The psionicist would not risk a mind scan--he might draw attention. From the sound of it, he could be drawing the attention of an army.

As the sound mass continued, the offending parties finally became visible. The moons lit up humanoid figures that marched up the dunes, row after row after row. Voyancer watched as soldiers--by their suits of mail Spectral Empire units--filled every moonlit dune in his view.

Their mail matched the color of the sand, tan, unusual for Spectral units, but its design definitely had to be Frissian, with its segmentation like the body of an insect. They marched at night, with an incredible distance to travel before they made it to wet land. It would be impossible for the troops to travel during the day lest the hot suns burn them. Rumors of enchanted units, of vastly powerful magic, had to be true--the Spectral Empire's units simply could not survive the journey.

The moons had moved to the other side of the night sky when the lines of soldiers finally came to an end. Voyancer decided not to wake Euphos and to cover his shift. Wherever the troops were going, they were coming from somewhere else, and that somewhere else could be anywhere on Phracia. The Spectral Empire seemed to be moving its forces, letting towns fend for themselves. Considering Shebiss's comment about the hordes of Stum Igbo, the troops could be marching to Eudybium, to bolster the forces at the boundaries of the empire.

Voyancer stared up at the beautiful night. From the kingdoms in the clouds, the night sky could not be more enthralling, its vast and starlit cloud of black infinite in its wonders. The psionicist for a moment regretted coming to the domain of the land dwellers. But if his instincts were right, he shouldn't regret it: the future of the kingdoms in the sky depended on events that would unfold on Repath Aos Vio.

They rode to Thephobium the following day, covering themselves as they rode through high temperatures familiar in most of the states of Phracia. From the south they traveled up the Pid River, which separated Theodystynes and Thephobium, until it touched the Nactral River, where they would go northwest to the Ritual Mountains.

The Frissian states had an academic history. Scholars centuries back had built the first colleges in Phracia in Thephobium, and the most advanced academics came to study the disciplines of philosophy, logic, and invention. Engineers and mechanical designers from around the known lands attended the schools to study with the best minds.

But Thephobium's interior held the most befouled land in all of Phracia. The schools of the west were in the habitable part of the state, and the towns in the rest of the state were walled to defend against the horrors of the forests and hills.

The Scream Chambers were the ruins of a city that had been taken by ghouls--the cannibalistic undead--and hauers--cannibal spirits that devoured other spirits. Inhabitants of the city were murdered, the energies from the violent deaths twisted the land, and the homes and temples infected the surrounding lands, the people warped to become corrupt murderers themselves. The entire metropolis succumbed to the violent night stalkers, and they harvested the people, building a vast city of horror in the sewers--a dungeon of innumerable rooms where they stripped their prisoners of their life-giving flesh, slowly enough to keep them alive for some time.

The Ritual Mountains were home to necromancer covens and devils' congregations. Those that entered never left, and entire units of Frissian soldiers were never able to find their remains.

The bounty hunters followed the Pid for many hours along its unnaturally clear waters that covered the black detritus in the river bed that gave the waters their night colors. Travelers on the roads from Trobia had been sparse, most people afraid to risk going anywhere without the security of armed warriors. The roads of Thephobium were busy, as the capital Lectidomes was an important political city. State units patrolled the highways, and the hunters encountered them frequently.

There were no major towns until Traphessus, and it stood a distance from the Nactral River, but they needed to find an inn to avoid camping in the forests at night, and acquiring a guide would help avoid any possibility of taking a wrong turn.

A ferry boat allowed the hunters to get to the other side of the Pid, and they were able to walk their mounts onto the boat for additional fares. When they continued their journey, Voyancer used the ride to catch up on his sleep. He had grabbed some details about their trip from the mind of the ferry captain. He refrained from piercing the minds of people for trivial things, but when it came to their success, Schute pleaded for the psionicist to put aside his normal rules. Voyancer would pay a guide for his knowledge, but he would scan his mind to make sure that he got his money's worth.

They made it to Traphessus before night overtook the land. The town functioned as a waypoint between the Nactral and Svippi rivers, in addition to providing a quicker route to traverse the Ritual Mountains, and it was a supply point for traveling south to Kinn and Phyros.

When they entered north Traphessus, Euphos noticed armed cult members on dirt roads that bisected the town. The cult were always armed, a necessity when traveling the haunted lands of Phracia, but they seemed to have tightened up their political structure here. The enforcers of the cult wore mail armor as they patrolled the north side of the city, having taken full control of the shops and government buildings.

The hunters saw several cult members dressed in white tunics, pants, and robes that seemed to be the garb of worshipers, not enforcers. Two cult members eyed the hunters, then halted them with a hand. "Who are you?" one asked, casually turning a blade in his hand.

Voyancer picked his mind and found the cult member's emotional state indicated imminent violence. He saw also that Traphessus had been broken in two, with one side cult controlled, and murmured this fact to Euphos, who nodded.

"We are here to seek shelter," Euphos said to the one with the blade. "Where can we do that?"

"Only children of utopia are welcome here," the lead enforcer said.

"Of course," Euphos replied. "We want only to find the other side of town. Can you tell us where it is?"

The enforcers surrounded the hunters. "No."

Shebiss's horse twitched nervously and he growled, "You touch me and you—"

"We will be going on our way," Euphos interrupted, and pivoted his horse to go back the way they had come. The rest of the hunters followed and they rode from the north gate to the south end of town, where taverns and other houses of vice were full on lantern-lit busy streets, with townspeople walking and riding. Laughs burst from a tavern, The World's First, with dancers, women in tight gowns, twirling to live music.

Shops around the tavern--a blacksmith, a tailor--were closed, but the buildings were in good condition, and the people, some warriors, others simple patrons, kept the roads and taverns of this part of Traphessus active.

"It is not a coincidence that the free side of town is in much better spirits than the side that purports to know utopia," Voyancer remarked. "Their utopia is a prison of self-hatred."

"Self-hatred?" Euphos asked.

"The cult believes that individuals should think of others first, before themselves. A person's wants are secondary to those of the tribe. They consider the desire to gratify one's own desires first as arrogance, as selfish pride, and they hate themselves because they have selfish feelings." He continued, "But people are individuals, and their needs must be met individually. If a man drinks, I am not sustained--he is, and denial of my wants will only result in poverty and sloth. There is nothing wrong with a person thinking of his needs. A stable society must be filled with individuals who think of their own wants, as they are members, bricks if you will, in the 'wall' that is society. They must be self-sufficient and strong, taking care of their own needs so that society stays strong. The cult members wish to liberate themselves from this guilt."

The concept of liberation permeated the cult, who believed that the workers should be freed from their servitude to the rich. But there seemed to be an emotion behind this, a more fundamental conflict in the cult members. Having to provide for oneself causes stress, and the cult, with its emphasis on everyone working for the others, proclaimed true freedom from this stress of self-responsibility.

An authoritarian--a king, or an oligarchy--would liberate the people from self-responsibility, and they could be commanded like machines. In this model, slavery would be freedom, and any who didn't wish to succumb to the utopian liberation would be killed. This torturous logic hurt Euphos's mind, but something just beyond his conscious perception, a vision of someone, tugged at his attention, and he put himself back in the moment.

"They may be naive, but they are not entirely wrong when they say that people should think of others," Bronty observed.

"Shebiss--your take?" Euphos asked. The warlock would have a good response.

"I want to see a bed," he responded. "These vapid philosophical ramblings are a waste, as the majority of beings are only scum disguised as living, breathing idiots."

Euphos tilted his head as he locked eyes with Bronty. Scum disguised as idiots--not precisely what he would say, though people did not do much thinking in their lives, he had to agree. This did not bode well: if Phracia had any hope of survival, people would need to start thinking more about life, philosophy, and many other things.

"Let's find an inn," he said. "We can find a guide tomorrow."

The hunters rode on to the divide between north and south Traphessus. A row of guards stood at a stone wall. Wooden towers stood on either side of the road. The guards were equipped with patchwork armor, spears and swords, giving the impression that they were hired and not city guards.

The wall was built all the way to either side of the town's curtain walls, and it wound through alleys and blocked the streets connecting north and south. The guards ignored the hunters.

"Hello!" Euphos offered to whoever would listen, "may we ask where an inn would be located? We also want a guide to assist us with travel beyond the city."

"There's an inn on the west side just as you enter south Traphessus," a red-haired guard said. "In regard to a guide, Wim could show you. He's a guard--probably find him, uh, in a tavern."

He sounded like a man on the street, not a guard. "You town guards?" Euphos followed up. "I don't see any--pardon the rudeness--city guard types."

The red-haired guard glanced at another guard on top of the wall, and that guard nodded. "We are militia."

_Traphessus has no city guards?_ "Where are your town guards?"

"They were called by the local government, sent away, we don't know."

Voyancer had seen the massive force of Spectral Empire units in Theodystynes. If the local governments were sending their units, their entire town force, to Eudybium to join the Spectral units, that would be a huge policy shift. Local governments should protect their own jurisdictions, and forcing the militia to take up the slack could be risky. Taking marching orders from Spektros would not be welcomed in the local governments, and the entire force of local guards being drawn upon was definitely suspicious. If the hordes of Stum Igbo were poised to spill into Phracia, they might not find anything left of the towns if the Cult of Revolution and the undead horrors of Phracia could not be repelled.

"Militia is protecting the south side of the town from the cult, and at the same time defends against undead?" Euphos asked.

"We are always in need of help, if you and your friends would care to assist."

Federal units from Spektros had patrolled the highways ever since the situation in Eudybium had become more harrowing. Seeing federal units everywhere did not comfort Euphos. The states were given the power to control their own people, but Spektros seemed to be forever encroaching on that power.

"We are with you, sir, but we have other matters to attend to," Euphos responded as the hunters rode away to find the inn.

Once there, Euphos decided to visit the taverns to find Wim, the guide the guard had talked about. Or if not him, maybe another guide.

Euphos kept his horse at the inn stables and walked to the closest tavern, a two-story structure with rooms on the second floor for people too drunk to walk. Euphos came to the entrance and put his foot on the tavern's wooden deck when a whisper came to him, touching his mind like a cloud of smoke. He brought his foot back to the dirt.

He spotted two townspeople in the distance, not close enough to have whispered to Euphos. He remembered the water elemental--could there be another here? The roads were emptying, the night coming on fast.

"Hello, my . . ." the whisper spoke, the sentence unintelligible beyond the first two words. "Euphos, where are you?" It sounded feminine--a woman, maybe, or a young girl. He felt an overwhelming urge to protect this woman because . . . he knew her? "Who are you?!" Euphos yelled, feeling an impending doom, as if dire wolves surrounded her and she could not defend herself.

The townspeople came closer and stared at the hunter. As they walked close Euphos's mind blanked, and he found himself standing at the entrance to a tavern, about to set his boot on the deck.

\- * -

Suns rose and the dawn brought safety for a while. Guards at the edges of Traphessus had fought back wandering ghosts the previous night, ghosts that had come from the woods in the south to pull people into the ruins of the Scream Chambers.

Euphos and the hunters conversed with the militia guards at the entrance. It would take two days to get to Kleon if they could survive a night in the lands of Thephobium. The closest town northward would be Lectidomes, but it would take more than a day's ride to get there, so they would have to travel at night.

"We want a guide, and others have recommended Wim," Euphos explained to the guards. "There are no Wims that we could find in the taverns."

A guard looked along the wall and then whistled loudly. He raised his arm with an open palm, signaling to someone on the wall. "Wim will be here shortly."

Up on the wall a small figure was shuffling toward the entrance gate. He wore a small suit of mail, but still too big to fit him properly. When he appeared at the bottom of the staircase the hunters were welcomed. "Hi."

Wim stood as high as Euphos's chest, his small body equipped with unusual armor, not metal. The sections didn't clink together as he moved and they were cast in unusual shapes. He removed his helmet and the hunters found a gnome before them.

"Hello," Euphos responded. "We are aware that you are a guide and we would like to hire you to help us traverse the Ritual Mountains." Wim eyed the hunters individually.

"These are my friends. We will be traveling together," Euphos explained.

"Yes, surely," Wim said. "You look like you can handle yourselves at night when the forests are full of scary things. You look resourceful. We will need all of your skills when night comes."

Wim gathered items from his house, then met the hunters at the entrance to the town. He rode a pony, its blond mane and spots unusually bright. Various gadgets and maps bulged from a hastily packed bag on his pony, and Bronty could see a strange silver scroll shining in the sun. "We will camp before we enter the Ritual Mountains--camping there at night is suicide." Wim giggled and the hunters paused at the foreboding sound.

Suddenly Wim yelped loudly. "Ah!" Nothing seemed wrong with him.

"You hurt?" Euphos asked.

"No," he responded.

After a few awkward moments Euphos spoke. "We get going?"

"Sure," Wim answered.

The hunters traded looks. _Is Wim crazy and are we doomed because of that?_

The hunters rode northwest on the main highway, in the same direction as the river Svippi. Wim recounted the different types of mythical monsters that filled the waters. "This is a roto-scope," he explained, showing them a device like a compass with a metal shaft wobbling around like a weather vane. "We use it to scare any cutch that might have paddled up the Svippi and decided to hunt on land. It emits a piercing Fim wave, disrupting the cutch's ability to take in air, and it suffocates."

"You guide for a living, Wim?" Bronty asked.

"No, I design tools that help guides. I'm assisting you because, because . . ." He didn't finish. Bronty waited. "You know," Wim continued, "I don't know. Probably because, uh, you know we are protecting the city?" Wim found another component for his invention and attached it. He rode on as if he'd fully answered Bronty's question. She laughed.

Wim's odd answer bolstered Euphos's confidence. It seemed to suggest that his assistance would protect Traphessus in a roundabout way. Unbeknownst to Wim, they hunted the Rat King, and Traphessus's recent troubles with the cult could be connected to the seever's diabolical minions.

"I will warn you of the Ritual Mountains," Shebiss announced. "Many of my patron's followers call it home, and they kill without provocation. If they find us, do not converse with them. Let me handle it, and I may prevent tragedy."

As night came the hunters found a campsite close to the base of the mountains. They built a small fire and set up watches. Euphos took first watch, with Tric helping to keep him awake. Tric had proved to be possibly the best, most useful hunting tool Euphos had ever known, in addition to being his best friend. Tric would be able to shock Euphos awake if necessary, and could thereby save his life.

Euphos reflected on Traphessus's militiamen. He trusted the citizen warriors more than Spektros, more than elected governors. The cult ransacked the land and the governments did nothing to stop the destruction. If rumors were true, Stum Igbo had broken into Eudybium at points and Spektros's forces were unable, maybe even unwilling, maybe not even allowed, to defend Phracia. With chaos came opportunity--the potential to assert a new control on Phracia. Hatred welled inside the hunter. Every waking hour the forces worked to rob liberty from the Frissians, wove designs and conspiracies to make Euphos and his countrymen slaves. He would do something very terrible when he got back to Spektros--

His thoughts were interrupted by a burrowing sound behind him.

Euphos spun around and gripped his blade. A clawed hand pushed up from the dirt, then pulled the body attached to it above ground. Euphos and Tric watched a monster rip a hole in the campsite and then dash toward the fire. Its exposed bones protected its body like armor, with its organs and muscle inside the skeleton. The monster snatched an unfinished deer leg from the fire and rushed back into the burrow. Euphos inspected the fire, then kicked all the scraps into the flames. He added brush to the fire and burned the sinews.

"You trying to fish?" Wim asked, rubbing his eyes. "Should make sure we destroy all kill."

"Fishing is not good when you're trying to sleep--especially when you could bring out horrors like that," Euphos said. "You can go back to sleep."

At dawn Wim led the hunters around the Ritual's bottom until they came to a ledge that overlooked the river. Wim pulled the parts of a long javelin contraption from his bag and assembled it with other devices. He launched the javelin, which carried a long stretch of rope with it, and stuck it into a massive rock on the opposite side of the river. Wim attached a rolling handle to the rope. "Who's first?"

The hunters took turns rope-sliding to the other side, using the handle to roll along the rope. Wim launched another rope javelin, then attached harnesses to their mounts, using both lines to move them safely to the opposite side. "Why don't we just use a bridge?" Bronty asked. "I can see one from here."

"Because that's where the locals will ambush us," Euphos replied. Wim nodded.

The lurkers in the mountains guarded many bridges that allowed travel beyond the Nactral River, constructing their own to lure travelers into their traps. Wim helped the hunters circumvent the traps and the hunters made it to the other side of the Ritual Mountains, having traversed the labyrinth of dirt paths.

Wim decided to go north to Lectidomes, while the hunters rode west. They could get close to Kleon before night and set up camp with the protection of the state patrol units guarding the highways.

"Thank you, Wim," Euphos said as he gave the guide many coins.

"No problem. You can find me in Lectidomes if you need help back. I'll be drinking, uh, maybe working in my shop there."

The hunters smelled alcohol as Wim turned toward the north. He lifted a bladder to his lips and doused himself with a potent brew.

Traphessus reminded Euphos of Phracia's political turmoil, the division in the town resembling the division in Phracia. The recent developments in Eudybium caused Spektros to send its forces into the states of Phracia to set up supply patrols, and, purportedly, to combat the proliferation of the Cult of Revolution. The lack of force used against the cult by the empire's units and local government units made it seem like the governments, both local and in Spektros, were purposely allowing anarchy.

As Euphos rode, the whole picture started to draw itself in his mind. The wars with the hordes of Stum Igbo in Eudybium were drawing the forces away from the cities, and the cult, as a result, became aggressive. The cult ripped Phracia apart from the inside while the forces for law and order traveled to Eudybium to fight the hordes. The government forces showed a cavalier attitude toward enforcing the law, if there were any around to maintain it at all.

As the hunters rode, they saw only a couple of patrols, which was odd, since the capital of Thephobium stood just a short distance from the highway. The whole series of events that occurred in Phracia seemed to be designed by the gods to strike all at once, like an earthquake, a volcanic eruption, and a hurricane all occurring simultaneously. It seemed like the god of luck had designed the plan, only his goal was to curse Phracia.

Kleon stood at the top of the valley, and the hunters rode toward it, having camped in the forests close to the main highway. Lectidomes and Kleon were built in the Time of Absolute War, aeons before, and were two of the most well-known cities in Phracia.

"Everyone ready?" Euphos asked, calling all to arms.

"Killing is like breathing," Shebiss replied, reminding them that his patron demanded death. "As long as I'm living, it's something that I will be doing."

"I have a feeling your patron will be happy," Euphos responded.

They rode four wide and entered the town with the suns high in an unusual unclouded sky. As soon as their mounts stepped into the city, grey clouds filled the sky above the town like canvas whipped over a tent frame.

"One second," Euphos said, riding back a bit. Grey loomed over the valley too, cloaking the entire region in just seconds. "That's powerful magic."

Bronty painted on an inky mask, its lines circular and spiral like the winds in a storm. She lifted her palm to the sky and wisps of cloud-like smoke rose from her hand. The smoke encircled the hunters and penetrated their skin to boost their strength and athleticism.

The hunters rode onto the stone pavement of Kleon, and as they pierced the grey, the town seemed to be in functional condition: the buildings were sturdy, mostly stone built, with simple but strong curves and smooth, long walls topped by stone roofs and sculpted pediments at their entrances. The buildings stood like crouched roemanxes, solid and powerful. The angular precision of the civic plan gave Kleon a straightforward structure that allowed maximum use of its situation in the state of Thephobium.

They saw only one person, a boy, and he hid behind a building when he spotted the hunters. Euphos noticed activity in the gutters but didn't get a chance to see what had caused it. Kleon's interior got dirtier as they rode, as if the shining entrance stood to lure travelers. Grime covered the walls of a temple built to Bas. Liquid dripped from his statue's toga, and a stench rose from the puddles of filth at the temple steps. 

# Chapter 9

Euphos noticed footprints on the dirty pavement: a long foot, with slender toes and massive claws. Too slim to be human, but many times wider than the small tracks of a rat. Probably seevers. He saw no seevers in the town, yet, but according to Schute they were here.

Columns supported most of the structures, and rows of shops held the products of the craftspeople. Rather than using simple carts in the square, the merchants of Kleon did their business in rooms built into long, brick buildings, open to let the townspeople browse.

Various items filled the shops: anvils, pottery, and a lute in one window. On inspection, not a soul stood in the market, no sellers or buyers. Soot covered the walls and fire pits were built where the customers should stand. The wind blew without carrying a sound.

"There, at the back of that building, I saw several people," Bronty called, pointing behind a massive building on their right. Euphos saw people duck around the corner. The hunters rode behind the building to follow them, Euphos and Tric scanning for traps. Shebiss guarded their backs and took a position at the corner of the building to prevent an ambush from behind.

Rotten refuse and clothes were piled up on the avenue and the stone wall was marred with dirty marks. At the other side of the avenue a quiet path led to more dirty structures, probably temples and civic buildings.

Rubble littered the avenue and northward they saw a camp of people huddled around a fire, most appearing to be vagrants, arguing and fighting. A boy slapped a man, then bolted while a girl yelled at her brother, "Get going, you idiot!"

Euphos and the hunters rode toward the people, who squatted in the entry to a gallery that housed the art of many of Phracia's most talented. Graffiti-laden white columns stood around the portico. Euphos tossed a talin onto the porch and it hit the tile and rolled.

"Hello," he announced. "We would like to talk to the people of Kleon. We simply want directions."

None of the squatters picked up the talin. They kept silent and afforded the hunters only a quick inspection.

"We are here to talk to the governor of the city, the high pontiff Rider Mass, and we would like to find him a gift. Do you know if he is fond of art?"

A gang of rats scattered from the shadows when the coin circled, finally rolling to a stop. The fleeing rats ignited chains of other rat gangs that dispersed from seeming piles of dirt, the progress like a rock skipping on the water. The "rat fuse" burned around Kleon, beyond the hunters' sight.

"I think we know why the people are hiding," Euphos told his companions. "I've never seen anything like this." He turned around to the crouching people again to get answers. "Can you tell us—"

"You stupid?!" a boy yelled. "People are trying to get warm from the fire--just get!" Voyancer extended himself out with psionics and entered the boy's mind and made him speak to the squatters. "Why don't you just tell them?"

"They are here, everywhere," a girl said. "Most people are hiding in their homes." Voyancer could not get any information from the others; their minds were chaotic, their comprehension of the state of Kleon too erratic. "Tell the people where the rats are coming from, Daddy," the girl said as she wiped her dirty arms on her father. He didn't say a word.

Bronty noticed an angry abrasion on the boy's arm. She drew energy from the patchy grass and spindly trees that were planted in once-fine groves around the buildings. Multicolored shafts of energy wound around his form and collected on his arm. The shafts reformed the tissue and closed the gaping wound. The boy and his family remained silent.

Shebiss rode close to Euphos. "These people, and most likely the entire town, have contracted something from the rats--some disease. There's no work crews or the like maintaining the roads and buildings."

"My thoughts, too," Euphos agreed. "We should find the legislature, see if they're affected by this."

The hunters rode on up the avenue to the government buildings at the main civic center. When they turned the corner beyond the gallery, a short brown figure, with bristly hairs coated with fetid body oil, leered after them and stepped out, waddling on two feet, then four, as it set its sights on the talin. The seever lifted the coin, then used his beady eyes to study the coin. _Talin, good,_ he thought. _There 's more where that came from._

Euphos and the hunters trotted to the home of the government of Kleon. Several white stone buildings stood at the north end of the square, but there were no representatives or bureaucrats around, no people. Metal-stamped signs hung on stone displays above the high court, the parliament, and the pontiff's chamber, but as they rode up the steps to the marked parliament building, they found not a soul inside.

Winds blew and the grey clouds lit up with the suns still high in the sky. They spotted another camp of squatters, behind the courts. Cracked statues of statesmen seemed to demand to be obeyed, but the children running around the city in rags seemed more like disobedient sheep needing shepherds. The shadows moved around Kleon, and the hunters couldn't tell if they were rats or inhabitants--all were dirty and both species seemed perfectly content to live in squalor.

Children giggled and darted around, accidentally hitting the bracing post for an awning. The structure smashed to the ground, and the weight of a gang of rats living on top destroyed the roof as they rained onto the children. Euphos's horse whinnied and shuffled to avoid the rats.

The hunters rode to the entrance of the parliament building. A balustrade with thick posts and curves gated the powerful stone platform, and at the entrance they saw a matted dog chasing rats, with more barking behind the government buildings.

"The people are here," Bronty surmised, "but they're just holed up in their homes?" They rode to the northern entrance to Kleon, where the homes of its residents were interspersed with taverns, inns, and shops. Yells erupted around them, most seeming random, like those from the domains of insane demons.

The homes were built from simple wood and brick and stood in contrast to the massive courtyards of the nobles' homes built nearer the walls that surrounded Kleon. If there were guards on the walls they were hidden in the towers. The rats hustled along the parapets and chewed on the wooden planks. A ripping sound broke the silence, and the hunters watched as rats rode the shreds of a torn banner to the ground.

"This town is known to have weathered many battles," Shebiss said, "but now it seems it was only to be conquered by a force of rats. This Rat King is most impressive."

"I'm starting to think he's got assistance, or that there's a force behind all this chaos," Euphos added. "This town resembles many that have been hit with the plague of the Cult of Revolution. There's no difference between a town of rats and a town of the cult."

"That is not hyperbole," the psionicist remarked, "and it is an astute observation."

Shebiss grabbed his blade. The forces destroying the lands definitely impressed the warlock. With the Age of Destruction firmly taking hold and the potential for power coursing the land, his patron had drawn up plans to harness the devastation. Warlocks depended on powerful entities to enhance their strength, and the more powerful they became, the more power their acolytes could wield.

He watched his sword become a true blade of nightmare. The demonic symbols that graced the blood grooves along its width grew in number and in their power to curse as Shebiss did his patron's deeds. Hexblades depended on their martial skills, and watching his sword become ever more deadly strengthened his resolve to one day displace his own patron as Lord of the Seven Hatreds.

The hunters rode engrossed in the scenes of the town. Suddenly, other riders came from a side path and trotted up to the hunters. A dark-haired man dressed in a blue formal jacket and pants led them. A dwarf and an elf were on either side of the noble, armed with blades and shields and wearing mail suits. The other riders were also armed, though they seemed most likely nobles, in their fine suits, or the ruling class.

"And who would you be?" asked the noble.

"My name is Euphos and we are here to visit. Do you know where we might find Rider Mass, the pontiff of Kleon? We have business with him."

"That would be me. Your business?"

Euphos rode up to the noble. "We are here to help you with your rat problem."

\- * -

Rider Mass's chambers were closed, with only his two guards and the hunters in the room. Scrolls and quills covered the pontiff's desk, wooden shelves and plaques adorned the walls, which, with the ceiling, were painted with the gold symbol of the town of Kleon.

"I would like to know what you know about the Rat King," Euphos began.

"There is a pall on Phracia," Rider answered, lifting his eyes to his guest. "The cities are destitute, the people are becoming restless. I can do nothing about them--I can only help this city. The Rat King is a being that appeared in the forest of Hemia recently, the reports say. Beyond that we sent Schute all of our information--his magical abilities, his forces, and the like."

"My question would be," Euphos continued, "do you have any information about where he is from?"

"No. Hopefully, if you are successful, we will learn more."

"The people of Kleon," Bronty asked, "have they contracted something from the rats, a mind-altering disease?"

"The rats are diseased, yes, and they give people chest and intestinal pains that often result in death," Rider responded. "The disease does not appear to affect their minds, from what we can see. But I have entertained the same questions. My dear girl, the people are mad--the cult, their erratic behavior. They behave like this everywhere in Phracia, not just here. It could be some type of mass spell cast from some unbelievable power, but I believe it is a problem with the values of the modern people--they just have not developed respect for freedom. I do not know why. I suppose it could be powerful magic . . ."

"This Cult of Revolution is burdening Phracia while Spektros is calling the state forces from the cities," Voyancer remarked. "Do you know anything about this?"

"Ah yes, a cloudman," Rider said, regarding the new speaker. Then he smiled. "I have read of your people, their love of studying the affairs of us land lovers. Reports from Eudybium are telling us that Stum Igbo is about to flood into Phracia. The forces are being called from everywhere to stop them." So Voyancer's suspicions were right.

"It seems that the freedoms given to us long ago by Bas do not resonate with the people," the pontiff continued. "This cult"—he searched for words—"they are not so much the problem as they are the reflection of this generation of Frissians. They see self-responsibility as painful, to be avoided."

Euphos mused to himself, _So Voyancer and Mass agree, then._

"We are bounty hunters," Voyancer said, "but I have to say, there aren't going to be many more bounties left if Phracia succumbs to the revolutionists. The cult is destroying the cities. The Spectral Assembly--what are they doing to stop this?"

"They have not said a word. The assemblies of many state governments have discussed this, and it is always dismissed, my sources tell me. In regard to the Spectral Assembly, they are sending our forces to Eudybium. Some cities are refusing to give them the men, as we have done, but the people who would make up our guard are refusing to enlist. So we are short-handed."

Euphos listened, and found his own observations of Phracia bolstered the more they questioned the pontiff. They would go for the Rat King, but Phracia had a more severe crisis. Euphos watched the people throw away Bas's Keys to Empire, the core liberties that were protected by the god, as if they were unlocking shackles from their wrists.

The cult had attacked the freedoms in Spektros, their riots targeting Bas's Rights and the guaranteed protections from abuse, such as the right to be free from coercive authoritarians who would prevent self-defense. The Rights stated that, "No one shall be prevented from defending their person, liberty, and self-rule, with words and arms."

If an aggressor sought to take a person's ability to defend themselves, to prevent their speech, their physical defense, the aggressor would be imprisoned. A person convicted of crimes like murder, rape, and robbery would be charged with violating people's liberty.

Cult members charged that society itself coerced people with things like private property law, because it restricted people's access to the land, and therefore individual holdings should be considered as restricting liberty. But liberty itself is limited, and its restrictions were not inherently wrong. People bidding for land in a market would have vast options compared to people being assigned plots by the emperor of a utopia.

"We will bring you your Rat King, pontiff," Euphos declared. "Or we will die trying."

"Indeed, and gather as much information about his plots and accomplices as you can," said Rider as he stood and grasped the hands of the hunters. "May Vict grant you glory, and Bas his blessing."

Euphos would do everything he could to kill the Rat King. As for persuading the Frissians that liberty would be preferable to slavery 'for the common good,' that would be the duty of the enlightened. His swamp required enough of his energy to keep him busy without the philosophical advocacy.

They rode to the Smope, the river that divided Kleon from the Hemia Forest, its source being the Spectrul Sea. The grasslands of Thephobium were white, and the mountains and dirt, black. Other lands, such as Phines, had white rock and black plant life. The sky was grey everywhere.

They saw no travelers on the road to the forest, though the Smope bridge was perpetually used by all, as it provided the only land access to either side. Very unusual. The Hemia Forest's fearsome reputation guaranteed a wide berth at its entrance, for only the bravest of souls ventured forth.

"Hemia Forest will play tricks on our minds," Euphos advised them. "Its plants and inhabitants are equipped with toxins and perfumes that paralyze their foes, and the physical location itself is enchanted, not operating the same way our world does." Tric whirled around the hunters as they rode the highway. "Tric will be our guide, as he will be mostly immune to the mind-altering substances."

Tric flitted to Euphos and hid behind his back. "Did I mention that my Jecta shafts were destroyed?" Euphos added to the group.

Bronty slowed to a standstill. The other hunters slowed too and Euphos joined them as she asked, "Say again?"

"You heard me. They were smashed in the fight with the lycanthropes. I didn't think it wise to say anything—"

"Until we're almost to the Forest of Death?"

"It's of no consequence," Shebiss interjected. "We will fight this Rat King with the shafts or without them."

Voyancer's unmoving stare suggested that he disagreed with Shebiss's pronouncement. "You know you should have informed us," Voyancer said.

"Yes, but I did not, because it does not make this job impossible. We simply have to be more careful."

"Do not keep information from us in the future, hunter," warned Voyancer, "or this is going to become unfinished business. We know the Rat King is powerful and you may have just doomed us all."

"You are welcome to go," Euphos said.

Voyancer and Bronty stared flatly at their leader. Euphos knew they would leave if they believed the job too difficult, and he did not feel proud for keeping secrets from them, but the prospect of the reward would allow him to build a life back home with--

Euphos shook violently, almost tumbling from his horse. He felt his grip on the reins and his saddle become uncontrollable. A woman, dark hair, had flashed in his mind, and then, before the hunters could move to grab him, his mind blanked and he sat straight up in his saddle, wondering if Voyancer and Bronty were coming along.

The hunters rode to the Hemia Forest.

Rider Mass and his guards discussed the hunters' visit. Definitely intelligent and capable fighters from their looks--Mass's confidence in the hunters helped soothe his worries about Kleon. The coming battles would be fought for the entire territory of Phracia if the hordes were indeed about to invade the land.

The pontiff reflected upon Voyancer's observations. The cloudman's musings seemed to hint at conspiracy, specifying that the cult destroyed Phracia from within while Spektros grabbed the forces from the cities, forces that would be needed to protect the cities from the cult. Mass had to agree that this seemed irresponsible.

A courier came to his chamber with an urgent message from Spektros. The young man wore black-and-white leather armor and the Spectral Insignia on his chest--the angel wielding two blades. He seemed to be an upstanding young man in a position that allowed him to prove his worth to the empire.

"Let me ask you, young sir--do you believe in your government?" The courier seemed flustered, surprised that the pontiff would question his loyalty, and surprised that the pontiff hinted he might not trust the rulers.

"Sir, I have most important information—"

"Do you believe anything that is written on those scrolls you move around the continent, my good boy?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"The communications in your pouch--is there a word on them that you believe?"

The courier did not speak.

"I have read many of them, and they have instructed me to give my guards to the service of the empire, to fight the hordes in Stum Igbo. I implore you, should I? My city is being destroyed from the inside, and the Spectral governors would not allow me to keep my guards?"

"Sir, Spektros is about to take your city," the courier said quickly after the pontiff's musings.

Rider Mass didn't move, blink, or show any reaction. "Do you see what is happening, boy? Is there a threat in Eudybium, or is Spektros using the war to crack the foundations of Phracia, of its law? Every action somehow destroys the integrity of the cities, their ability to defend themselves. Answer me, you fool! What can we believe?!"

"They are marching an army toward Kleon."

Rider Mass stood, spit and fury coming from his mouth as he yelled, "Nothing, you cursed idiot! Not one person, not one word, not one utterance! This empire is an empire of thieves and rogues!"

The armored footsteps of hundreds of Spectral troops clanked on the city roads as they marched into the merchant district and toward the city buildings. The squatters congregated in the corners of Kleon, hiding from the mass of soldiers. The black armor of the Spectral units shadowed their procession like a rogue's cloak.

\- * -

Muppic and his henchmen--henchrats--rushed up a path that pierced the Hemia Forest and wound around in circles before climbing up a hill and entering a cave. The blue, orange, and pink hues of the sky inside the forest came from the combination of primal, chaotic magic and plant secretions. Mists from the pools filled by luminous water flows sparkled in the air, the mists themselves the result of warped enchantments of elixirs being formed in the pools, elixirs that distorted the physical laws governing the forest.

The mists caused the seevers to hallucinate, so that they viewed the hills as massive mechanical wheels, and the forest floor like a city, its structures machines with levers and gears cranking and metal shafts spinning, thrusting themselves into rhythmic designs. The seevers didn't know that the forest grew massive, bulbous plants that in other places would be flattened under a boot--here they were taller than most humanoids, able to snatch horses from the forest's lunatic highways.

As they wound upward, they saw a wood and metal staircase and bounded up with all the enthusiasm of their rat cousins discovering the secrets of a labyrinth of tunnels. Two of the seevers battled to see who could get up the stairs the fastest, trampling one another as they went.

At the top they saw a massive metal structure, not a rock cave. They entered and found elevators driven by body weight, tubes that looped up the walls and around the high ceiling of the building, and catapults that could toss seevers rather than rocks into nets. This seever circus allowed them to entertain themselves after they completed their duties of breeding plague rats to stock Kleon. They built chambers to house the vermin above the circus.

Muppic broke from the other seevers who were bolting toward the elevators that lifted them to the rat chambers to stock the wagons for another trip to Kleon. Muppic trotted beyond the circus to where a hall wound behind the circus and to the throne room.

The seever pushed himself, for the Rat King would want to know about Spektros's decision to occupy Kleon with imperial units. Muppic had succeeded in overrunning Kleon with the rats and destroying its people's prosperity. The townspeople lived like the rats, battling for pieces of rotten meat, surprising even Muppic when they didn't even attempt to fight the vermin back. They simply went on living as if the rats were the rightful rulers of Kleon.

Boss seever Muppic trotted beyond a wide doorway into a room with a high ceiling. The black-domed chamber glowed with reflections from the fixtures above, shining like stars in the night, looming from the ceiling as if the gods were about to judge those who entered right where they stood.

Statues of bones stood on either side of the dais where the Rat King sat on a throne of skulls and smiled intimidatingly at Muppic.

"It is my honor to report to you our success in corrupting Kleon," Muppic said as he dropped to all fours so as not to challenge the Rat King.

The king's brown splotched hood and rotted tunic, both the color of his fur, hid his response as he watched from his enormous throne. He spoke under the cover of shadows. He gripped the arms, his sinewy forearm muscles growing like tree trunks.

"There is a complication," Muppic admitted. "Spektros has sent units to take the town. They possess it, and there are hundreds of soldiers there to force the pontiff to abdicate."

A rumble with the resonance of a dragon's voice vibrated the dust Muppic stood on. "You will flood the city with your kin," declared the king. "Douse the soldiers with the fire plague that I give your troops."

He waved his royal hand, the nails of which were long enough to impale Muppic. A massive ball of fire formed in the room, and the heat waves singed Muppic's whiskers, and then a sun-like orb unwound. Tendrils of flame snaked around the chamber and slithered toward the hall, to the circus, seeking the seevers. They constricted around the seevers, their magical flames transforming the seevers' beady eyes into flaming globes. The flames infiltrated the seevers' internal organs, causing their vascular systems to become visible, like rivers of lava flowing under their hides.

A seever sliding inside the rat tubes found his strength magnified, enough that his body swelled, the muscles growing too big for the tube. He got stuck mid-slide and only dislodged when a seever sliding behind smashed into him and they came shooting out of the tubes like furry cannonballs.

Packed with playful seevers, the elevators swung around like carousels as the riders became enraged from the Rat King's spell. More seevers thrashed with fury inside bins filled with wood cuttings, as the spell stretched their forms and empowered their aggression. The affected rats fought until Muppic climbed to the top of a platform in the circus building.

"Listen up, fools!" he cried as he cracked a whip. "Listen or the Rat King will crush your stupid skulls, you silly dunces!"

The seevers halted their play, and several were still morphing, yelping and screeching as the spell took over their senses. Cowering fear became raging bloodlust, seevers impelled to kill rather than wander.

"Vermin, you will swarm on Kleon, then rip the Spectral soldiers to bits, then lick their blood from your hides! Go! Kill!" Muppic cracked his whip as the seevers dove from boxes, slid from the roofs of the tubes, and hopped from pits of wood slivers to form a herd, like an army. They bounded from the cave, their circus, and stampeded toward Kleon with Muppic riding his seever-mule chariot.

\- * -

Tric hummed over the land, staying in the scouting position to make sure there were no surprises. The hunters entered the forest a short ride from the Smope river. Euphos sensed that Bronty and Voyancer were not angry with him, and this he couldn't figure--his loss of the arrows was a disaster for their quest. But it seemed that something distracted them. _What could it be?_

A cloud hung above the forest entrance, obscuring the interior. Not many ventured into the Hemia Forest, and those who did survive returned to tell wild, divergent stories. Some returned with no stories, their psyches destroyed by the forest's enchantments--they could only babble in insanity.

Euphos knew of the forest's innumerable methods of defense, if it could be thought of as an entity. Mists with random effects--everything from death to drug-induced joy, the source of the mists being waters tinged with latent magic that inhabited the physical location itself. The concoctions floating or pooling in the forest could be brews of plant residues, animal substances, phantasmal interactions, or alchemical water flows.

Unpredictability being the only thing predictable in the forest, Euphos hoped that Bronty could help ward against mind-altering effects. Hopefully at least one of the hunters would be resistant to its hallucinations at any given moment. As a backup they could use the elemental's enchanted water in their bladder skins.

"We should say what we see, out loud," Bronty instructed. "This will help us to stay together. Need to whisper to avoid drawing the attention of the things that live in here. The plants can be sentient, too."

"Is there a spell you can cast to protect us from the hallucinations?" Voyancer asked.

"I did at Kleon. It enhances your natural resistances, including resistance to things that affect your psyche. According to my instructors, the flora of the Hemia Forest are unlike anything else on Phracia. I will have to handle any incidents as they come."

Tric bounced back and forth, hovering into the cloud, scouting, and then returning. The main road wound down into the Hemia Forest, which filled a valley, its cloudy shell resembling a snowy hill, with the Ritual Mountains southward, barely visible above the top of the valley. White grasses waved in the wind, interspersed with white flowers that hummed when the winds blew through their horn-like folds. They were known as drones. Translucent nonfeathered flyers hunted on the valley floor, but none got close to the Hemia Forest--even the grasses stopped growing a distance from the cloudy barrier.

"We have the elemental waters if things go haywire," Euphos reminded them. "We ready?" Nods, then Tric spun around the hunters and floated to the cloudy barrier. "We look good, Tric?" He bounced around in affirmation.

The hunters rode into the cloud, with Euphos in the lead behind Tric. They felt no moisture inside the cloud and could see only a short distance, but the sounds of the horses' steps helped to keep the hunters on track. When Euphos came to the boundary of the cloud and rode onto the forest floor, a vast canopy of pink, purple, and green stood above, all the colors fluorescent. The top appeared to be as high as clouds in the sky, and the cloudy cloak of the Hemia Forest magically hid the massive dimensions of the interior.

Wetness hung in the air. The plants and trees were alien to Phracia, the interior of the forest hot and humid like nowhere else on the continent. The dense growth of the trees blocked most of the sky, and wild hollers and chirps bounded around, but the travelers could see nothing move. Hopefully it would stay that way.

Around the massive trees grew flowers, many taller than the hunters on their horses, with stalks wider than most trees in the forests of Phracia. Their multicolored petals and bulbs could be used to sleep in, if the flower didn't kill a sleeper with secretions or, for all intents and purposes, fangs.

Journals of explorers attempting to catalog the forest could be found in Spektros's libraries and those of other major cities. Almost everything here could kill, with few journalists even surviving to bring this information.

They rode on a path of yellow moss detritus barely visible, probably made by the forest's predators, staying close to a main path, as that no doubt would be where the seevers traveled. Tric hovered ahead, Euphos instructing the Tracker that they needed to go toward the center of the forest.

Seevers alone would not be difficult to defeat, but the difficulty was that they never traveled alone. They swarmed their enemies, raking flesh to ribbons. Euphos quickly picked up their tracks and detected their marks on the trees. They used the trunks to keep their claws dagger sharp. As the hunters made headway into the forest, the brush thickened, and they dismounted and walked with their mounts in tow, slashing the thickets in their path.

Massive petals of a flower blocked their way, and before they hacked at its stem a growl came from below. "You hear that?" Euphos asked. The hunters nodded.

They stood silent; nothing moved and they heard no additional sounds. Suddenly, Tric flitted back to the hunters, pulsing erratically. "We've got company," Euphos said as he drew his long blade. Shebiss held his hand to the sky and withdrew the proceeds of his pact with Xidack, the Lord of Seven Hatreds. Black energy seethed around his blade.

The hunters stood their ground, waiting for the source of the growls. Black energy continued to crack around Shebiss's sword, and Shebiss raised his hand again, concerned that the energy had not collected into a black glow. He spoke incantations in an attempt to redeposit the energy back to its source, but the black, vein-like energy bolts continued to crack and grow, burning the trees and dirt around the warlock. "The forest is strengthening my enchantment," he told them. "I cannot control it."

Black energy ripped into the dense trunks and burned the bark while scorching the litter on the forest floor. The hunters had to move away from Shebiss to avoid the damning bolts.

In the distance trees cracked and sticks broke, as vibrations from great stomping bound around the hunters. Branches on the deciduous trees shook, brush and leaves dropping from the sky. Bronty finished painting herself a mask with jagged lines and pointed angles like the fangs of a predator.

Shebiss's black sword hummed, then cracked like a hundred whips as the tendrils expanded wider. The hunters had to continue backing away from its infernal energy field. Voyancer entered the hexblade's mind, hoping to find a way to control his power. The cloudman found there a vast chamber with no light, devoid of anything save cold, rational thought. Empathy only survived to allow the warlock to be able to manipulate his foes. Shebiss's mind was locked into a destructive state, and Voyancer could not close the gateway to his patron. Power flooded into the warlock.

_Take my hands from my blade,_ Shebiss said to Voyancer inside his mind. Voyancer comprehended the warlock's command: his blade allowed the power to channel into the world. Voyancer took control of the warlock and sent him forward. Surrounded by a globe of black death, Shebiss trudged ahead, drawing a burning path behind him in the forest growth.

Voyancer had to press his will onto the warlock with all his psychic strength to get Shebiss to stab his blade into the ground and then let go. The black globe grew quickly. 

# Chapter 10

When Euphos saw what stormed their way, he said a prayer to Vursa, asking the goddess to protect the hunters with her divine power. Then to keep the hunters focused, he commanded, "Think about the ghosydium!"

A massive predator, like a dragon without wings, ran at the hunters on two legs, its jaws the length of Euphos and its teeth like long blades. Its arms dangled from its muscular chest, while it lugged a thick tail behind. Its body was covered in scales, and the monstrous killer smashed trees and tore the brush from the roots without a wound to itself. It hunched its shoulders and brought its gaping maw to its feet to scoop up the hunters.

The forest obscured Shebiss's sphere, and the dragon could not avoid hitting the wild, infernal orb with its massive skull. Black tendrils burned the dragon's scales, and terrible smoke rose from the collision. The energy caused its muscles to flex and stiffen, and the dragon crashed into the vegetation, digging a massive scar and throwing dirt and moss in the direction of the hunters.

The energy of Shebiss's blade tore into the dragon and then flooded the forest until it finally spent itself, and Shebiss ripped it from the dirt. Euphos equipped his bow and shot the dragon in its skull, but the arrow barely punctured the dragon's scales.

"We don't kill that thing right here, we might never!" Euphos shouted as the dragon lay on the ground, still dazed by the shock. Shebiss drove forward and struck the dragon's nasal cavity, smashing bone and hindering its breathing. His blade burned with black energy as he tore it from the dragon's flesh, and the symbols on the blade projected their glowing red forms on the forest floor.

The dragon stood, regaining its faculties, and then pounded the hunters' eardrums with a roar. Euphos grabbed a thick rope from his mount's satchel and tied it around a tree and then bolted to another tree a short distance away. He pulled it tight at a height just above his head. "Hey, you big lug!" he yelled when he got the tripwire tight. He nocked an arrow and let fly to strike the dragon in the forehead.

Shebiss hacked at the monster's knees, then dodged as the dragon chased the warlock with its maw. Voyancer watched Euphos and then sent a communication into Bronty's mind: _You see the tripwire?_

Bronty cast a summon fae spell, and a fae knight, a tiny, armored, elvish warrior, formed to do her bidding. "Draw the dragon toward the wire," she said. The warrior gripped his blade and dashed to join the battle.

Euphos estimated the right distance from the tripwire and pounded his long blade into the dirt, pommel first, point sticking straight up. Voyancer followed Shebiss, commanding to his mind, _Let the fae grab the dragon._

The fae knight rushed to the dragon as it swung its tail at the warlock. The dragon smashed three tree trunks into splinters as Shebiss kneeled to avoid the strike and found himself staring at a toppling tree. His foot caught on a rock, and he tripped as the tree trunk pounded into the dirt, bounced and twisted, landing on his shin. The warlock howled in pain.

Euphos hit the dragon in the skull with an arrow that sunk in just above the neck. The dragon still didn't look his way. "Tric, get his attention!" Tric flitted around the dragon, sending pulsing shocks into its hide with no success. He hummed into the dragon's view, distracting the monster for only a moment before it lunged at the wounded warlock. The fae knight followed the dragon, chopping at its talons with his blade, a rapid flurry of strikes that must have felt a mere annoyance to the dragon.

Shebiss could feel the ground rumble as the dragon approached. Voyancer found the warlock sitting against a tree, dazed in pain. He picked Shebiss up and put him on his horse's back, then slapped the horse, which trotted into the forest, away from the action. Voyancer found himself in the sights of the dragon, its teeth ripping away the brush between them. The psionicist shifted his density, becoming cloud-like, as trees toppled into his wispy form. Voyancer floated up, behind a tree, and the dragon stopped and inspected the spot the psionicist had stood in a second before.

This gave the fae knight time to hack into the dragon's flesh as he circled its feet like a whirlwind. The dragon's irises contracted into scythes as they focused in on the source of the annoyance. The fae knight shuffled toward the tripwire, the mossy floor like dense brush to the tiny warrior. The dragon walked with the tiny warrior, curiosity rather than anger guiding its steps.

Euphos hid behind a tree as the dragon moved to the trip wire, its eyes on the ground, entirely unaware of the rope spanning the trees, until . . .

Suddenly it stopped and stared at the floor, then up at the trees Euphos had anchored the rope to. The hunters watched in horror as the dragon's maw formed itself into, a smile?

A laugh thundered into the forest, the dragon's head moving skyward as it shut its eyes, wailing in mirthful joy. "Good one!" the dragon bellowed, its voice the audible embodiment of a torture chamber. Its laugh abruptly morphed into a wincing yell when the pain from its wounds pulsed. "I think I will kill the warlock slowly," it growled.

Most dragons were intelligent, some only dumb brutes. This dragon had no wings and could be considered a different thing entirely. The possibility that this beast could talk hadn't entered the hunters' minds. But it did mean that Voyancer could attempt a psionic strike. He returned to his normal density and attempted it, but the dragon blocked the strike.

"We have a psionicist? I hate psionicists. They are thieves and can never be trusted. You should feel lucky. My hatred causes me to kill them quickly, like rats."

Rats? The dragon brought up rats. What did he know?

"You hate rats?" Euphos asked. "They have destroyed your home. We should not be fighting, then. We are on the same side, it seems. Why don't we discuss our objectives?"

The dragon eyed Euphos, his inhalations like smooth purrs. He moved slightly, as if prepared to pounce.

"We do not wish to fight you, dragon. But if we have to finish, you will die," Euphos continued, letting the killer know that they did not fear him. Voyancer grabbed Euphos's blade as the dragon talked with the hunters. He altered his density and rose high into the air, higher, higher. Euphos saw the psionicist rise, but he put his eyes on the dragon to prevent it from noticing.

"You are in no position to control what happens here," the dragon said. "If I wish you dead, you will be. At this precise instant, I enjoy listening to your . . . pontifications."

"Very good. We are here to find out about the Rat King. Is he a friend or an enemy of yours?"

"The Rat King. There are many rats, seevers, rat people. They are inconsequential."

"Yes, but they are destroying Kleon, just beyond the Smope river. We believe they will move on to Lectidomes. I would like you to help us find this Rat King and put a stop to the destruction of our home. That is not a request--it is a command."

The dragon waved his tail back and forth, then burst out laughing again.

"You have three ticks to decide if you are going to live or die," Euphos declared boldly.

The dragon stared at Euphos a while, waiting to see the hunter flee into the forest. When he didn't the dragon played along. "Yes, my king," the dragon said sarcastically, then continued laughing as it searched its surroundings, spotting Bronty and Shebiss. "This is interesting, unbelievably entertaining," it said as it moved toward Euphos.

Euphos gulped hard, hoping his cloak covered his throat.

"Absolutely, your highness," the dragon continued. "How may I be of service?"

\- * -

The dragon led them into the forest, toward the home of the seevers and their pet rats. Bronty cast a healing spell on Shebiss's leg, surrounding it with vines that stiffened it enough for him to walk. It would take time to completely recover, as the tree had shattered his shin, and putting it back together required Bronty to draw a healing mask to power the spell.

"What is your name, dragon?" Euphos asked as the hunters followed the lumbering beast. Voyancer hovered above still, and the dragon still seemed unaware of the psionicist.

"It is what you would like it to be."

Euphos's posturing worked, not because the dragon believed he would be in danger, but because he found the relationship beneficial, and because he did indeed wish to see the seevers removed from the forest. The rat people had torn the forest from his grasp, appearing many moons prior, multiplying until they possessed numbers sufficient to control the territory.

The dragon believed it controlled the hunters like marionettes, but this made no difference to Euphos. It could be leading them toward a trap, but traveling the forest with the dragon could save their lives. It knew the terrain and its competitors. They would use its life to bargain with if pushed into a tight spot.

The dragon probably didn't believe that the hunters could kill him, Euphos guessed, but then again, they had injured it, and that could be why it believed the threats. It laughed at them, as if they were mere puppets for its entertainment. Euphos banked on it not being entirely sure.

Shebiss rode behind the hunters, the others walking their mounts. The hexblade relived the battle: he had amassed unbelievable power calling on his patron in the forest. The overload of energy would kill him eventually, but it still opened the possibility to harness enormous amounts of destructive power. His patron would be no match for him if he could control the energy, amplify it with the help of the forest.

Bronty had not hesitated to heal the injured warlock, though she knew his nature was opposed to hers in many ways. He rushed into battle to fulfill the bargain with his patron, to maintain his borrowed power with payments of blood, not to prove his loyalty to the hunters. Warlocks could make pacts with benevolent benefactors, such as good-spirited fae and other powerful beings with contracts to offer. The benefactors gained followers and reputation that way.

"The seevers are using the forest, its gifts, to build their army," the dragon explained. "We must defeat their leader if we are to save your cities, and I know where it . . . he is, sire."

"It?" Euphos repeated the dragon's word.

"Forgive me, sire--their king is a vile creature, an 'it,' with no empathy."

"We will give you the opportunity to kill this fiend, dragon," Euphos responded. "He is destroying your home, and you should not allow it." The dragon glared at Euphos, sensing that the Biotian believed himself to be the puppeteer. Perfect.

The hunters followed the dragon as it stomped a path on the wild plants, clearing their way through the forest and possibly protecting them from poisonous secretions the dragon's hide was able to withstand. Euphos's gamble might get them all killed. But traversing the forest with a guide who wanted to keep them alive for some purpose might save their lives. Euphos believed the dragon did want them alive, or just feared Euphos's threats. Or both.

Bronty wished to study the forest in more detail--its abnormal responses to their spells fascinated the druid. If she developed an understanding of the nature of the forest magic and powers, she could unlock new spell potential. She guessed Shebiss felt the same way.

Color abounded here, where Phracia's simple light or dark scheme could not penetrate. Voluminous plants with multicolored petals and massive simple ferns grew everywhere, with warm ponds and humid winds providing all forms of life with abundant resources. The thick tree canopy, green with hanging spiral moss, resembled a woman with long hair damp from the forest's swampy atmosphere.

The spirits that guided the forest didn't function like the spirits of nature everywhere else on Repath Aos Vio. Spirits would usually push life gently, sometimes violently, toward prosperity, but often toward conflict. Predators and prey, and rival predators, battled as all nature did, competing for primacy. But in the Hemia Forest the spirits did not guide the life forms as independent, sovereign beings. They guided the life as a general guides his army, with direct imperatives, and the spirits seemed to be controlled by another being, an intellect.

Bronty felt that the intellect knew they were here. This Rat King would be more powerful than they thought. Her fae knight disobeyed her commands when she instructed it to guard her, so she unsummoned it. Shebiss had almost killed himself with his own power, and if the Rat King discovered Euphos's psychic condition, they would be doomed. Schute had informed Voyancer that Euphos must survive, and that they must be successful, but didn't tell the psionicist precisely why. Bronty figured from listening to their discussion with Rider Mass that the fate of Phracia could be riding on their quest.

Hemia Forest did not like intruders, and the odd spell effects must be direct attacks from the Rat King. He wielded the forest spirits and interfered in the fabric of magic, causing spells to misfire. The druid drew a new mask, one with whisker-like lines and thick, wiry streaks, to resemble a seever. She might be able to trick the spirits into assisting her.

They led their mounts behind the dragon as it wound its way up a river. The colored waters hosted shelled crawlers and violent, thrashing fish that surrounded themselves with magic bubbles that floated above the water to catch bugs. Other things slithered, their forms obscured by illusion magic.

\- * -

A shadow moved on the floor of the building, but no footsteps sounded. Folds of cloth draped the form in place of shoes and a cloak--the figure carried nothing and revealed himself only with the cloth that drew his form. A ghost with unfinished business.

This ghost never left the halls around the Orbitrareum, a structure built inside the Spectral Assembly building as a secret assembly room. Circular corridors built peripheral to the room were usually empty, like crypts. Today the ghost stepped into the corridors, with many others waiting for him inside the sole chamber of the Orbitrareum. Gatherings inside the assembly room happened when matters concerning the Spectral Empire were at hand. Today the small cadre of governors who controlled Phracia came to the chamber, governors who were relatives of governors who had controlled Phracia from behind the scenes for generations.

The dark corridors were lit by the sky above through many shafts built into the ceiling to draw illumination from the grey, the light beams stabbing the floor like arrows that pinned victims to the battlefield. The ghost liked the corridor's shadowy atmosphere and its pale glow. It reminded him of the black of a coffin, its lid slightly ajar to let slivers of the grey sky in. The pale light did not distract from the overwhelming dark.

He entered the Orbitrarium from a portal behind the main chamber and pushed a curtain aside to sit at a chair on a dais. He sat alone on the dais a moment, behind a second curtain that prevented those in the assembly section from having a view. The second curtain opened, and the ghost found several other figures sitting around the dais in ornate wooden chairs.

A pair of lanterns lit the dark chamber and a window at the top of the domed ceiling opened, with grey spilling onto the black walls of the chamber more to allow the ghost direct access to Phracia's grey skies than to light the chamber. The ghost required access to the skies to maintain his connection to a vast array of spectral spies around the continent, spies that kept him informed of the progress of his schemes.

Spektros's elected prime minister, Theophos Physsiod, along with the Head of the Spectral Assembly and the Director of Economic Policy sat at the floor of the chamber. They provided the ghost with a human façade, one that he would need to control Spektros and thus Phracia. They did his bidding in return for power, power he granted through his manipulation of every single governing official and much of the nobility in Spektros along with many around Phracia. They had been able to form an impenetrable ruling class largely with the help of their master, a master who had ruled from the shadows for centuries. The ghost listened.

"The Cult of Revolution is growing," Theophos Physsiod announced to the ghost, "and destroying everything they touch. The governor of Thephobium is responsible, we believe, and he is working with other independents to destroy Kleon, and perhaps even Lectidomes, our sources say. Spectral forces took Kleon today." He sat.

"You will allow a force from Stum Igbo to destroy Prodocium in Eudybium," the ghost replied, having wielded magic to make his commands audible. "The governor of the city is driving the cult from the city and is refusing to relinquish his local troops to us."

"Allowing Stum Igbo inside our empire will cause an unbelievable amount of terror!" Physsiod objected. "Our people—"

"You are to guarantee that word of the destruction of Prodocium travels to every corner of the empire. The people must believe that Stum Igbo is about to overtake the forces at Eudybium, then prepare more Spectral units to seize the cities."

"The governor of Thephobium is operating on his own, it seems. We did not command him to form the cult, nor to conspire against Kleon."

"That is irrelevant. He helps us with his plots."

Physsiod grasped the strategy more clearly after the ghost's commands. Fear of invasion had frightened the people of Phracia into allowing Spektros to occupy their habitations, and fear of the cult did much the same. As with the governor of Thephobium's seever invasions into Kleon, the cult destroyed the townspeople's security, and with it their resistance to Spektros's occupation of their home.

Spektros gripped Phracia ever tighter, and dominating the people from Phasebios, from the center of power, would be within their power.

Physsiod stood and bowed, as did the other ministers. The ghost closed the curtain and sat silent on the dais. The darkness around him turned to fire, and the room became a vast world, lava flowing through dirt like blood in a wound. The ghost had traveled to Jome, a plane that existed since time immemorial and one the ghost carefully nurtured. Each plane existed as a complete universe unto itself with its own laws, often functioning with unusual principles. The overarching principle in Jome was servitude. Any being who could even draw air in Jome had to ask permission, had to petition Jome's king to be allowed to live.

Shadows flew in the red sky, winged creatures circling around rows of slaves marching bare-footed on the burning land. Giant devils stomped alongside the slave gangs, healing any slave who dropped to their knees to die. The devils whipped the humanoid slaves, cinching their chains if they stumbled. They bound their wounds with magic, to torture them for eternity.

The ghost saw a figure in the distance, riding a horse. He wore a black cloak, with a bow and a long blade, and a black glow surrounded his body. His glow, the halo, signaled to the ghost the warrior's righteous spirit. The warrior traveled the lands, protected from those who would harm him. The laws of the land could not be bent to harm this man, nor any like him, for these souls were shielded by their righteous being.

If this warrior were allowed to live, the ghost could not indict the people of the universe to eternal damnation, for the warrior blocked the Law of the Anarchs. The ghost wished to bring Jome's guiding principle, servitude, to the whole universe and he used the Anarch's writings to make this so. One righteous spirit condemned the ghost's machinations and blocked his will.

_A spirit that possesses all the longing horrors known and unknown, yet who can still place one righteous step before another, will be sufficient to defend against the Law. This spirit will choose to do right with his life and will protect what is good._

The ghost, the living embodiment of the Law of the Anarchs, would kill this lone warrior. He had killed all of the others who had lived good lives while being wracked with longing horrors. This warrior would be the last that he must destroy before his scheme to rule Phracia would come to be.

Roiling winds from the Lands of Jome bounded around the land, hot whips striking flesh, throwing dust and bones into the air. The ghost, built from the Law itself, watched the terrible events before him in horror--not because Jome and its devils dispensed infinite tortures to its servile inhabitants, but because the warrior lived and would potentially destroy centuries of work.

The ghost cursed his luck while drawing the curtain back to exit the Orbitrareum. If he could not find this warrior he might simply dissipate, his very existence dependent on the success of his task. The ghost moved along the halls, the cloth that draped his body the only evidence of his being.

\- * -

Voyancer watched from above as the dragon led the hunters to the Rat King. He hovered high enough to keep the dragon unaware of him but close enough to be able to target the behemoth. He flew close to the canopy, where the trees were tall enough to allow him to maintain a good distance while maintaining mental contact with Euphos.

Feathered beasts with pink and blue markings on their chests and crowns of feathers hanging like chains flapped around the psionicist. Beasts climbed in the trees, multiple-legged climbers and jumping balls of hair, and their screams while fighting over territory sounded worse than any battle the cloudman had joined.

Orbs with rotating glows--first yellow, then red, then blue--joined Voyancer as he hovered, drawing his concern that they would bring attention to him. Euphos needed to give him the word. The dragon would die, no doubt, and the sooner Euphos let Voyancer strike the final blow, the better.

The dragon wound them around a pond, then ascended a hill. The flora grew thick, but the psionicist could see them approaching a burrow with an opening as big as the entrance to a cave. Tric hovered ahead and flitted into the burrow, making sure the dragon couldn't see him. After scouting, the Tracker hightailed it from the burrow at top speed and sped back to the hunters.

Tric circled Euphos, wildly bouncing and flashing until Euphos stopped walking, then Bronty and Shebiss. Voyancer could not hear what was said, and sent a psionic communication. Euphos pointed to Voyancer then closed his fist. _Time for the guillotine, before it enters the burrow._ Voyancer measured his target's speed and then transformed his body into its most dense form, wielding Euphos's blade. The psionicist positioned his arms like wings and dove with increasing speed, guiding the blade in for the kill. The dragon walked with its head forward and its tail extended in order to balance its weight, and Voyancer smashed into the back of its neck, pushing the blade all the way to its hilt. Voyancer's body simultaneously pounded the massive dragon into the ground, crushing its windpipe and almost severing the head from its body.

The hunters ensured the dragon was dead and strode up the hill to inspect the burrow, from which sounded screeching and high-pitched calls. Tric hummed in and glowed as brightly as he could. When his glow touched the insides of the burrow, thousands of tiny reflections lit up the black to reveal a treasure room, hordes of precious metals and gems reflecting Tric's light.

But no gems, only rows of nubile dragons squirmed inside the burrow, so many Tric's glow could not reach the burrow walls. He hovered around the burrow, illuminating more and more of the dragons, and still didn't find the bounds of the burrow. The dragon eyes flashed when Tric hummed around them, and they raised their heads to the Tracker as they fought, climbing on one another to get to Tric as he hovered around their home. The entire chamber moved like a river.

"We were to be nourishment for the dragon's brood," Voyancer said as he peered into the burrow. The nubiles climbed over one another, attempting to scale the entrance, but the steep burrow walls did not allow escape.

Tric traveled to the bounds of the burrow, his form only a dot in the depths of it. Euphos could see a spot far down the burrow wall, a small chamber dug into the dirt. As Tric hummed along the wall, Euphos spotted many more such chambers. The brood climbed relentlessly, scratching at their brethren as they slithered on the floor.

"Where to?" Shebiss asked.

"I feel a strong force inside the mountain," Bronty said, pointing above. "I would say that this is probably where the Rat King lives. Makes sense he would build his keep inside a strong point like this." Euphos agreed.

The hunters withdrew from the burrow and hacked their way into the forest, upward, toward the Rat King. Tric led them, while Shebiss rested on his mount, his leg almost back to full strength. No night came upon the forest, for its enchanted sun forever cast a glow. They found a high hill to camp on, then set about sleeping in shifts. Several creatures approached while they slept and were repelled with magic or blades, or Tric was able to deter the invaders with shocks.

They slept a long while and then found a path that wound around a massive rock with grooves running its length. Euphos remembered the footprints in the dirt of Kleon--big heel, long toes, and points where the vermin dug in their dagger-bladed feet. "Lots of tracks here, sending up a lot of dirt, and moving away from the mountain. Recent."

"How many would you say?" Bronty asked.

"I can only guess, but very many, hundreds." Euphos stuck his finger into the dirt to feel the grains on his skin. No time for water or wind to turn the dirt into mud. "If they're not here, we've just hit the jackpot. Let's move."

"What if they come back while we're inside the Rat King's warren?" Bronty asked.

"That's where Tric comes in. He'll stay behind and guard our backs, though there may still be many inside the warren, so we shouldn't relax."

They continued up the path, upping their speed. The warren would be at the highest point of the forest. Schute had given Euphos general directions, but not the specifics. There weren't many who survived the forest to be able to bring those details.

Bronty could feel the forest's spirits converging as they rode toward the warren. The spirits that influenced the forest circled around the mountains like a whirlpool. The Rat King controlled the spirits, she sensed, like a windcaller controlled the forces of nature, manipulating air flows and water, causing rain and storms. Windcallers and druids both concerned themselves with the worship of nature, but windcallers concentrated on the elements and could invoke spells and enchantments, controlling the building blocks of the planet.

Earthcallers, firecallers, and wavecallers had all joined Bronty in her time with the druids. Powerful nature spirits possessed groves on Rontus Pikaurus, providing the casters the tools necessary to develop their powers. The druids and elementalists instructed their students using the lush land, for its rich rock formations surrounded the rivers and protected the groves while the casters invented their spells.

Druids had to develop bonds with the spirits of nature, personal bonds unique to each druid. They could then join with the nature spirit, to direct its energy into a spell or enchantment that only the druid would be able to cast.

The Rat King's bond with Hemia Forest felt stronger than what Bronty had known, the spirits being directly controlled by the king of the vermin. The plants and trees and fauna of the forest all bowed to him, and their poisonous defenses protected the Rat King like a force of Spectral troops.

The hunters came to a wide cave, above which the mountain loomed alone, surrounded by forest as if it had been ripped from the Ritual Mountains. The path continued into the cave, but the hunters veered from the path back into the forest as they approached. "Tric, do you see anything up there?" Euphos asked.

Tric hummed up the path and came back quickly. "Seever guards?" Tric bounced in the air. "One . . . two . . . three?" Tric bounced at three. The seevers had cleared the forest close to the cave, probably to prevent ambush.

"What's the plan?" Voyancer asked.

"Kill everything," Shebiss answered.

Euphos nodded reluctantly. "I would get your most powerful crowd spells ready--we may be wading into a sea of rats." They roped their mounts to trees a distance from the path, with Tric as guard. "Voyancer, can you distract seevers with psionics?"

"It is more difficult to control a being's behavior if it is bestial."

"We just need one to draw the others' attention." They stayed close to the dirt as they slunk toward the cave entrance, still using the trees for stealth. "Shebiss, is there magic at the entrance?"

"We'll have to get closer--I cannot cast from here."

They came to the edge of the forest, and Euphos drew and nocked an arrow. The seevers wore metal armor and gripped pikes, keeping watch at the entrance to the cave. Voyancer focused in on the middle seever, drawing on all his psionic power to push into the seever's mind from a distance of many yards. 

# Chapter 11

He grabbed the seever's consciousness and impelled it to screech and claw at its fur. The seever shrieked aloud and tossed its pike, then rolled on the dirt, yelping and ripping at its hide. The other seevers stared on as their compatriot hollered.

Euphos's arrow punched into the writhing seever's chest, and the vermin slumped. The third seever cast his eyes right at the hunters as they bolted toward the entrance and Shebiss spoke-- _" Sekel o vis I jobo"_--and his own eyes and blade became black. Black ropes of infernal magic slithered around the cave, seeking pools of magic. The remaining seever fled into the cave, but Euphos put an arrow into its back, and it smashed into a rock.

Voyancer's brow furrowed. "This seever's mind is full of hallucinations."

"Shebiss?" Euphos asked.

"No magic," Shebiss responded.

Bronty interjected, "There is a spirit guarding this cavern, or several spirits. They will communicate everything we are doing. Uh oh . . . say again, Voyancer."

The psionicist kept the seever on the dirt and continued to scan. "This seever doesn't see the cave." He collected his observations. "It sees a room full of toys, built for seevers, tubes for sliding, pens of wood pieces. Its mind is being controlled."

"You saying the Rat King is a psionicist?" Euphos guessed.

"No, he is something different. This seever is not being controlled by a psionicist, or I would sense it."

"I think he's using the spirits to trick the seevers," Bronty contributed. "Conversing with the spirits, I have found that they are afraid of the Rat King but have no choice but to obey."

Euphos drew his blade. "Schute didn't say anything about the Rat King being able to control forest spirits. We need to move."

Shebiss finished the last seever with a blade strike and the hunters entered the cave. The seever's mental construction of the cave in no way represented it. The hunters stared into a dark chasm. At the back of the cavern the hunters saw a spot of blue and yellow, like a portal to another world. Euphos lit a torch from his satchel.

The fire illuminated a cave filled with water pools and seever waste. Corpses of the rat people littered the ground, their white skeletons contrasting with the grey world. A long tunnel ended in an opening they approached. Euphos watched the walls for traps.

No ropes, pressure plates, or trip wires were visible. Shebiss couldn't find any magic here. Even without magic traps the Rat King's control of the spirits might complicate things. Euphos advised avoiding rocks and bones, surmising that the seevers or the Rat King would set traps using naturally occurring items.

"Bronty, the spirits set any traps?" Euphos asked.

"Only the entire forest--otherwise, no."

Euphos suspected that the Rat King lived in the forest for much the same reason he lived in his swamp. The protections deterred intruders. If the Rat King could control the spirits, Bronty's exaggeration would not be an exaggeration.

They stepped farther into the cave, moving toward the only shaft they could see. Euphos watched for traps, while Bronty attempted to shroud their spiritual imprint with a spell. If she could alter the way the forest spirits saw them, she would give them the element of surprise.

Fetid water pooled where the seevers made their home in the rotten coves, hay, wood, and other plant stock brought into the cavern to build their warren. The hunters moved toward the shaft, with Shebiss keeping watch behind. The warlock had not given Euphos reason to question his loyalty, but then again, the hunter knew that no one could be trusted.

Shebiss's patron was demonic, judging from the dark magic the warlock possessed. They shared the same goal, but Euphos always kept Shebiss within his peripheral vision.

The hunters entered the tunnel and prepared for an encounter. No doubt more seevers guarded the warren while others hunted in Kleon, perhaps Lectidomes soon. They would have more difficulty taking Lectidomes with its capital guard, but the cult continued to decimate the capital's residential areas, and the people of the town were receptive to the cult's ideology of liberation.

Voyancer almost had to crouch to fit into the tunnel, but its width allowed the hunters to fit four abreast. Water pooled on the rough rock floor, and wet walls reflected lit torches. There had to be seevers maintaining the torches, or seever magic.

Humidity stuck to the hunters as the hot forest wind pushed into the tunnel. Other sounds bounded into the tunnel from what had to be a side room. Clanking and then whining sounds, like furniture being moved, hinted of a chamber of some length. The hunters pushed against the wall and into the shadows.

They slinked along the wall, able to see the opening of the chamber. Euphos produced a metal mirror from his satchel and checked inside the room. He saw several robed seevers carrying manuscripts and scrolls around and putting them on wooden shelves that stretched to the ceiling of the round room, with scrolls and parchment stored on dusty tables where robed seevers inked their inscriptions.

"We've got guests," Shebiss whispered.

Several seevers hopped into the tunnel and moved right toward the hunters. Euphos drew his bow and shot, almost hitting the low ceiling with his arrow's arc, but the arrow ripped into a seever and the rest of the pack stood and drew daggers. "Rime! Intrusion!" a seever yelled.

"Voyancer," Euphos yelled, "distract the robed seevers in the room!" He knew the hunters would be surrounded if they didn't strike immediately. Voyancer moved to the entrance and grabbed the mind of the closest seever, and then caused it to rise from the table and pull the ladder from the shelves. The seever on the ladder smashed on the floor. Several other robed seevers were too distracted to see Voyancer, and they tore at the psionicist's puppet, screeching and chirping in frustration at the rogue seever's behavior.

Euphos rushed forward to join Shebiss, who dodged a slash then spoke infernal curses. His blade and eyes glowed red, the symbols on his sword glowing black as he thrust his blade into the seever and boiled its blood. The seever burst open and pustules of its molten crimson-black flesh flew onto its brethren and they howled at the burning blood.

Euphos punched his blade into a seever, then put his boot on its chest to draw it out. The distraction allowed another seever to push beyond Shebiss and Euphos. It rushed toward Bronty as she cast a vine spell to ensnare the robed seevers who drew daggers to strike Voyancer.

The seever shoved its claws into Bronty's back and she hollered until Euphos slashed the seever then pounded its neck with his wrist spike. More seevers rushed at Euphos as he stood to protect Bronty. Shebiss burned a trio of them with a dark bolt spell, its black fire ripping the flesh from their bones, and then he swung his blade wide to hack at rotten hide.

Shebiss stood to gather in the vision of infernal judgment at his feet. The pools of blood incited his hatred, and his red irises glowed like a blacksmith's hot iron. He needed more to kill.

Euphos guarded the druid, who rested on her knees, attempting to cast a cure-wounds spell. Seevers bolted at Euphos, scraping their vile fangs on the cave floor to sharpen them for the strike. Euphos whirled his long blade and one dodged, but the one who followed couldn't, and the blade tip slipped into the seever's chest and punched through its back.

Two seevers hurled the slain seever at Euphos's feet, their incisors rushing at Euphos's neck. He pounded his wrist spike into a seever but couldn't deflect the second and was struck in the chest. He smashed into the cave floor, holding a seever in his arms.

Shebiss grabbed the seever's tail and pulled it from Euphos's grip. He severed its head from its neck with his blade and the seever's blood quickly filled a wide depression on the cave floor. "Voyancer needs our help!" Euphos reminded them as he stood, checking the gash in his chest. He would live, but he would need magic to prevent infection.

Euphos and Shebiss found the psionicist still touching his temple, controlling seevers in the scroll room. Voyancer's puppet had succeeded in drawing the attention of most of the robed seevers, but several rushed at the psionicist, and he drew daggers. The robed seevers bounced at the psionicist with their own daggers pointed at his chest. He dodged back and then slashed at their wrists, able to almost sever a hand. Another seever struck him in the thigh, the blade piercing his flesh.

Euphos drew his bow and pinned two seevers to the shelves in succession, while Shebiss's blade glowed like a red sun as he slashed the seevers that struck at Voyancer. Euphos stepped into the scroll room and stuck a seever to the wooden floor with an arrow.

Voyancer and Shebiss handled the seevers in the cave, the psionicist hitting a seever with a psionic strike, and Shebiss's blade ripping the remaining seever to bits. Euphos checked the scroll room for more seevers, then returned to Bronty. She bled profusely from the wound on her back, and could not draw her senses together to mend herself. Euphos lifted her water bladder from her belt and put it to her lips while Voyancer inspected Bronty's wound. She drank and then rested against the psionicist.

Pouches hung on the belts or over the shoulders of the seevers in the tunnel and Shebiss pulled parchments from the pouches as he checked the corpses. Euphos also found pouches on the seevers around the scroll room entrance.

The parchments contained descriptions of Thephobium--its divisions, geography, its different flora and fauna, dates and times. Every parchment contained colored drawings and specific information about the towns and their people. "They're mapping Thephobium," Shebiss concluded. Euphos stepped back into the scroll room and inspected the scrolls on the shelves. The writings described events going back a long time, including the division of Traphessus and the details of towns in Trobia and more around Phracia.

"They're mapping all of Phracia," Euphos said. "If the Rat King is as powerful as we think, I'm guessing they're thinking about taking the whole of Phracia." He examined the scroll room.

Bronty recovered quickly. "Everyone good?" she asked, looking around. "Sorry--they got me while I was casting."

The hunters gathered up their things and Voyancer and Euphos drank from their bladders to mend their wounds. The water refreshed their strength, and it mended Euphos's chest and the psionicist's leg.

"We didn't see any other ways in behind us," Euphos noted. "If Tric didn't see those seevers coming they must have come from inside the tunnel. He's watching the main path into the cavern here."

The hunters must've missed locating other tunnels that allowed the seevers to come from behind, or maybe the other tunnels were secret, covered by false walls and the like. Still, the possibility that Euphos had not found them made the hunter feel uncomfortable.

"Let's get going. The seevers are obviously intelligent enough to surprise us, which is not a good thing since we're surrounded by rock," he said. The hunters helped Bronty to her feet and reflected on Euphos's statement. Numerous burrows must be dug into the rock, and they kept their eyes on the tunnel beyond as they moved, careful to look for any hint of a secret ambush spot.

Euphos retrieved the arrow that stuck the seever to the shelf. The seever grunted and hollered, but Euphos checked the arrow and saw no blood.

"You'll live," Euphos informed the seever, then looked to Voyancer. "Does he know anything?" Voyancer performed a mental scan. The Rat King controlled the seever's mind, maybe even more than it did the rest of the seevers. The seever could barely form a coherent thought, but he did have a mental construct of the Rat King's chamber.

"The seever is known as Fowbip. He'll have to guide us to the Rat King's chamber with instinct because his mental map is obscured." Voyancer released the seever from his control. "Seevers are not known for their intelligence, and Fowbip here is unique among them. He's got the mental powers of a child."

"Fowbip, you'll be guiding us to the Rat King. If you are to stay alive, you will get moving," Euphos instructed.

"Uh, thure. Who are you?" Fowbip said, his tongue hitting his oversized rat incisors after every word, giving him a lisp.

"You can consider us your adopted parents," Euphos said.

"Oh wow. I alwayth hoped I'd find you! Can I call you Daddy?" Fowbip said, clasping his paws together, his eyes wide open.

"Uh, I shouldn't have said that we are—"

"Yes, you can call him Daddy, and me Mommy," Bronty interrupted before Euphos could finish. "Guide us to your boss, Fowbip." The seever hopped around and circled his new parents before hurrying into a room adjacent to the scroll room.

"I shouldn't have told him we were his parents. He'll be a distraction."

"He could prove more useful than we know," Bronty assured him. "Your instincts are good. You did the right thing."

Euphos sighed.

Fowbip guided the hunters into a bed chamber, a wide, open room with hay and wood to sleep on in packs to keep warm in the cool cave. Fowbip announced to a couple of seevers on the beds, "Hey, thay hi to my parenth!" but his enthusiasm disturbed the sleepers and they didn't bother noticing the hunters.

"Fowbip, just tell your friends that we're here to help your boss, if they ask," Bronty advised.

"Thure, Mommy."

They found a hall, and Fowbip hopped quickly along. The hunters had to brace themselves on the walls to keep from slipping on the oily cave floor. Seevers built their home with smooth stone and sturdy wood, but refused decorations like furniture. Bones of their prey and detritus from the forest filled the chambers with rancid collections of vermin and bugs.

They moved along the narrow hallway, getting glimpses of rooms built along the sides. Euphos lit a torch for the hunters, though seevers could see in the dark and didn't plan on entertaining any but the seever population, or maybe their victims.

Most of the rooms were simple sleeping chambers. Some held valuables, like gold, silver, and other precious metals, even sapphires and rubies. Euphos spotted a room with tunnels dug into its walls that reminded him of the chambers in the walls of the dragon's burrow. Thinking back, he realized the chambers in the burrow's wall were probably tunnels dug by the seevers.

Fowbip came to the portal of one room and stopped and spun around to wait for the rest of his family to catch up. "The Rat King doethn't like to talk to people he doethn't know. He getth mad," Fowbip stated when they caught up to him.

"Son, just let us in," Euphos said soothingly. "We'll make sure he doesn't hurt you." He grasped the seever's shoulder. Fowbip tiptoed into the room, the hunters right behind.

In the dark chamber, a high ceiling was hung with glowing orbs like suns. The tile reflected the warm glow and helped illuminate what Fowbip saw: a cloaked figure who sat on a wicked throne tapping his rat talons on the skulls of his foes. The Rat King.

Fowbip's new family saw instead a vast cavern, black beyond the bundle of sunrays coming from the hanging orbs. The rays lit up a stool, and on the stool sat a satyr, playing a flute. Two long horns protruded from his head, and long locks of purple hair flowed around his pointy ears and hid the satyr's bare chest. Fur grew on his hooved legs. When he blew into the flute, his long beard waved with the rhythm of the tune.

Voyancer entered Fowbip's mind and saw the Rat King sitting on the throne, a muscular seever, taller than most, judging his court guests. "The seevers see the king as a hulking seever," he informed the hunters. Then he attempted to scan the mind of the satyr, but as soon as he did the satyr stopped playing his flute and stared at the hunters.

Bronty gathered her intuitions into words. "I can't describe who this being is. He's almost a ghost, a projection of the forest's spirits. There is no true form."

"You are using the seevers to invade and destroy Thephobium," Euphos declared. "Defend yourself." Meanwhile Shebiss teleported behind the satyr and hacked at his chest, reaching around from behind him. Shebiss instantly felt his skin burn and blister as the suns' rays around the satyr formed a shield of fire. The warlock screamed and jumped backward with all his strength and hit the cavern rock, putting himself into the dark. His skin peeling from the burn, Shebiss lifted his water bladder to his lips, all the while yelling in pain. Euphos fired an arrow at the satyr, but its wooden shaft and head ignited and turned to ash before the arrow struck.

Bronty cast a cloud spell, drawing from the pools in the cavern, and steam swirled around the satyr's sun shield as the vapor hit its protective barrier. The satyr put the flute back to his lips and blew a tune.

Tric bounded into the throne room, humming like an electric storm, and flitted around the hunters, flashing and bouncing. "Shebiss!" Euphos yelled. The warlock stood, his skin still peeling, and bolted to the entrance. "We've got to get out of here!"

The hunters ran back to the hallway, but a couple of seevers stood to block their escape, fangs and talons dripping with blood. Euphos nocked an arrow and punched it into a seever's chest. Voyancer grabbed the second and sent it into the fiery room with a psionic strike. "The army is coming back!" Euphos yelled.

They bounded back the way they came, past the scroll room and then back to the tunnel. They found the entrance to the warren, but hesitated when they saw the massive brown seever force approaching the warren. They filled the path entirely and sped along like a raging river of rat.

"Run, fast as possible!" Euphos called as the hunters bolted toward the forest, hoping to make it to the trees before the army rounded the corner of the path. A seever stood at the cave entrance and watched the hunters move into the forest just as the seever force came to the bend in the path. The hunters hurtled toward their horses.

The seever force sped toward the cave, spewing dust and saliva. Euphos hid behind a tree and watched to get an estimate. Hundreds of seevers formed the bulk, too many for the hunters to be able to dispatch with melee.

They reconvened at their mounts, the trees hiding them from seevers. "There's no way we're going to kill the Rat King with all those seevers around, if that's who he is," Shebiss said, bending to catch his breath. "Getting close to the bastard, I can't describe it . . ."

"Yes, we have to disregard all the reports about his powers," Bronty said. Something tugged at Euphos's mind. Panic rose inside. He remembered Bronty referring to herself as Mommy to the seever they had found inside the scroll room--

Euphos stiffened as the memory ripped his consciousness to pieces. A woman with dark hair, his wife--he would meet her at a tree at the edge of the swamp. The memory came back full force and Euphos fainted, smashing into a tree when he tumbled. Voyancer grabbed him before he slumped to the dirt.

"Fantastic," Shebiss said with sarcasm. "We're attempting to kill the king of the forest and Euphos belongs in a lunatic ward--I saw him do the same thing in Theodystynes, at the camp on the hilltop." The psionicist lifted Euphos to his feet and Euphos's mind blanked as he found himself with Voyancer's hands on his back. Voyancer didn't say it, but waves of worry rattled his mind. Euphos's attacks were worsening.

"We going to head to Gutto the Shiner?" Shebiss blurted. "No way can we kill the Rat King. Maybe I should just find my own hunts."

"Keep your musings to yourself," Bronty countered. "You are your own person. We can't stop you from choosing for yourself, but—"

"Right, and I think—" Shebiss began.

"I have a plan," Euphos said before the warlock could finish. The hunters turned his way and saw the Euphos they knew--ready and in charge. He started riding back the way they'd come, and the others followed.

Euphos instructed the hunters with the details as they rode to the dragon's burrow. "Voyancer, can you hover to the walls at the back of the burrow, to those chambers? We need to find out if they're burrows, too." Voyancer became cloud-like and moved to the walls. The brood thrashed around, whining and shrieking in his presence. Tric hovered with the psionicist, illuminating the young dragons. They writhed like worms, mountains of cold-blooded killers waiting to be fed. The young stood as tall as a knee, but could already kill things superior in strength, their mouths designed to snap bones the first second they hatched.

Voyancer found the chambers, most probably wide enough for a seever, and Euphos's tactic dawned on him. The psionicist hovered back to the burrow entrance. "They are tunnels, seever built," he said.

"Precisely," Euphos responded. "Seevers burrow, and there's probably a vast network here." The tunnels in the warren would be the entrance. "We just need to repurpose the seever burrows—"

"For the dragons," Shebiss finished. The starving dragons would pour into the seever burrows looking for nourishment. The hunters would make sure the Rat King and the seevers were in their path.

"Bronty, can you give the brood some ramps and open up more of the seever burrows on the wall?" Euphos requested. Bronty picked up a broken tree branch on the dirt and imbued it with a growth spell. Euphos went out to where they'd slain the dragon and cut chunks from its corpse and gave them to Voyancer. The psionicist hovered to the back wall, placing the magic branch and the flesh in one of the chambers. The branch sparkled then grew rapidly, becoming a massive root that grew to the bottom of the burrow. The young dragons rushed up the root to get to the flesh, and soon the seever burrows teemed with dragon young.

The nubile killers flowed into the seever burrows, scratching and fighting to find more flesh. Soon the entire burrow population slithered toward the seever network. The young fit perfectly inside the hollows, as if the seevers had designed the burrows to the young dragons' specifications. Euphos and the hunters returned to the forest, to their horses, and perched a long while before seeing any signs that the young had made it inside. Then, seevers guarding the cavern entrance twisted around and bolted into the cave. Howls, screeching, and hair flew from the cave, then blood. Tric hovered to inspect.

The young had flooded the warren, killing everything they found. When seevers killed one dragon, more rushed to rip the vermin to pieces. Rats from the incubation rooms spilled into the caverns, and the young predators were able to find their chambers. Everything moving became targets for the dragons. They overwhelmed the seevers and soon engorged their starving bodies. Tric hovered above the fray, toward the ceiling, to avoid distracting the killers. He saw young pull intestines from their quarry, then play tug of war. Seevers attempting to fight got devoured, their futile defenses proving no match for the killers.

Tric wound his way to the chamber of the Rat King and found a writhing mass of young burning in the satyr's sun shield. They bombarded the satyr from every direction, struggling to get close to the Rat King. Eventually the young formed a block of burning flesh taller than the satyr, wider than his shield. As the dragons burned into a lump of flesh, those still living could burrow into the mass, protected from the sun shield. They pushed toward their prey and found it. The sun shield soon burned the mountain of young to dust and Tric saw only a stool, a flute, and locks of purple. He returned to the hunters.

"Tric says that they have killed the Rat King," Euphos reported. "I think we should get on. If those hatchlings find us we're going to be a snack." Bronty gave Shebiss a look. The warlock knew exactly what she would have said if she had spoken: Euphos knows what he's doing.

The hunters rode to the main path and back toward the forest's cloudy barrier. Bronty saw a structure to her right, the top resembling a stone temple much like the tribal temples in her homeland, temples built from the rocky landscape. Dwarves who lived on the periphery to the kingdoms had built massive stone cities in the jungles. They eschewed advanced technology to live a more primal life, and their society adopted many customs from the wild.

The dwarves played bloody games, in which combatants killed one another. They allowed murderous predators inside their kingdoms, monsters like the zifaeu, to capture and kill any who could not defend themselves. These would be deemed unfit to live. The zifaeus would take the captured dwarves to the wild jungle and bathe the unlucky in a vat of pain. No details could be uttered--the dwarves knew from their legends that the terrors there would be too horrible to even think about.

Bronty rode from the path to the forest, pushing beyond branches and tall pink grass. "Bronty!" Euphos yelled after her in caution.

"I want to see this temple," she responded. "It could be my kin."

The hunters reluctantly joined her. They rode a distance from the path through the thick forest and came to a massive stone they hid behind and looked around at a depression in which sat an imposing stone temple. Titanic stone slabs made a barrier around its periphery, and long stone ramps rode up to the top, along stone blocks that pyramided upward and gave the temple its step-like shape--a ziggurat.

The hunters saw a robed forest tribe gathered on a ledge, low on the temple. Their black robes hid their bodies and the details of their features. The temple shone like a star, reflecting the worshipers' torches, torches lit for the purpose of their ritual, as day still burned in the forest. Its walls could have been made by magic, as the metal frescoes that graced the stone were perfectly cast, their angles precise and polished, like the best blades from Siopath.

More worshipers were lined up in the temple yard, also in black robes. On a stone column raised to the sky, a robed figure stood above the devoted, wielding several knives. On the periphery of the temple grounds blades were pointed straight up with their hilts buried, their tips reflecting the torches like a sky packed tightly with stars, denser than desert sand. _Why the blades?_

"Who are they?" Voyancer asked.

Bronty pointed to a woman, nude, at the temple's top. "They are not dwarves as I believed, but the physical representatives, the forest's sculpture, if you want to think of the forest as a person. The forest spirits are no longer enslaved since we killed the Rat King. They are reasserting their control."

_" Mendus vis to we, lepsus ser prisas, de mise en eppe, wis dus rebursis."_ The figure with the blade spoke in a tongue the hunters could not comprehend. Bronty cast a comprehend spell, allowing the hunters to translate his words. "Death is pain, love comes from pain, the result of pain, we must conclude that death causes love. There is no love with no pain as its genesis, all love must be preceded, caused by pain. The blades that we worship are pain's tools, and because this is, they are love's tools." The figure raised the blade to his hand and ripped a gash, so blood spurted from his palm and the worshipers were doused with red. "The pain that I feel is love, just as the forest gives us, every day. Its lash is love's source, and the more the lash digs in, the more love we feel, and the more love we know."

The worshipers drew blades and cut their own wrists, arms, and throats. One drove a blade to his heart, and blood rushed from his chest, drawing pools at his feet. Many of the worshipers hit their knees, or crumbled to the yard, yelping in black-robed piles. Euphos estimated several hundred worshipers occupied the wide yard, and Bronty cringed as the worshipers cringed in pain, the tight group becoming a mob as the pain hit and the worshipers howled. The hunters waited a long while, and the figure at the podium inspected the worshipers. He kicked several worshipers savagely, with full force, as they lay, saying, "You must hurt, the only guarantee that you will feel love."

The speaker smashed a worshiper's jaw with his fist, then looked up, staring at the yard as if he had just arrived. His robe turned white, and all the worshipers' robes suddenly became white. The nude woman at the temple's top became as bright as a sun, then spoke. "Listen to me. I become mother to you, my hips give you to the forest, and you will worship them."

The male figure spoke. "There is nothing as good as the desire between man and woman and there never will be, for all eternity and all time, yesterday, today, and forevermore. Gods, man, and the universe have made this to be and this lust will never be surpassed by anything in its glory, yesterday, today, or forevermore. Never--it will forever be impossible to change this yesterday, today, and forevermore. Pain and desire, desire and pain--go and remake the forest, though no man with man, or woman with woman, shall find refuge."

The woman became a statue, and the worshipers climbed the temple to touch it, to stroke its curves. Desire burned in the worshipers and they pressed their hands against the statue. Ecstasy drove the worshipers to touch others, to burn in lust. They ran from the temple to the forest, to their hovels, to join in sensual rapture, men with women, and women with men.

Not a soul stood at the temple. "This looks like insanity to me," Shebiss stated.

"Hold on a second, just wait," Bronty advised. "Yes, listen."

Moans echoed, and couples could not stay conscious, the overwhelming desire tainting their blood with torturous miasmas, raging wonders, even terrible pain. The couples became infatuated with one another, and that caused a rebirth in the forest. 

# Chapter 12

The male figure returned to the temple and spoke. "Let whatever man and woman bind together at this moment be bound to one another for a time, exclusively, until a time when they should not, because they are being called by others. Let this time be many moons. But do not take this relationship for granted. It may be dissolved quickly, if man or woman disrespects the other."

"Man with man, woman with woman, shall not find refuge," Euphos reflected. "He is saying that people should not have relations with those of the same gender, and I agree. A society of these couples would be doomed." Euphos stiffened his back and spoke righteously, as Bas specified in many of the god's divinely dictated works. "They simply do not live like men and women do. They do not perpetuate their people, and their ways do not help to stabilize the natural structure of life. With the multitude of chaotic forces always looking to destroy the natural way we live, such as gangs of marauding thieves and murderers who refuse to live righteously, or the Cult of Revolution, society simply cannot continue with one more destabilizing force."

The sky became drab, cloaked in grey, and the multitude of bright colors that could pierce the thick canopy were replaced by Phracia's perpetual grey. The grey washed over the colored petals of the plants. Right before their eyes, the plants traded their rich hues for white, black, and grey, the spirits that controlled the Hemia restoring harmony. When the satyr met his death, the spirits had dispersed, unbound from their trap. Bronty felt melancholy as the vivid colors of the forest became hues of grey, as if the forest became spirit and its colorful inhabitants were dying like intelligent beings.

She palmed the flowers of a massive plant that shortly before had transformed from pink to white. The nectar of the flower pooled in its bulb, sparkling and transparent. Bronty had found the nectar before, in the pink plant, to be poison. Now she cast a spell to determine if it could be safe to drink.

Bronty cupped the flower in her hands and drank, the nectar now safe after the transformation. As the hunters made their way back to Kleon, they found that many of the plants and trees had traded their dangerous defenses for elixirs and nectars that were boons to travelers. The spirits returned to the Hemia to control the forest as they had before. No longer enslaved, they filled the trees and plants and beings with carnal fires, with desires, and the life remembered why it lived. The satyr had corrupted the spirits, used them to control the forest inhabitants. The misdirected plants developed lures, colors, and perfumes to trap and kill. The spirits came back and rid the forest of its deceptions, filling the life with primal gifts. Some gifts brought man to woman, with ravenous desire, to bind them forevermore. The life became white, black, and grey in color, but its spirit could not be more beautiful. It traded its brilliant hues for a hungering soul, and it could never be more impassioned, filled with vitality. Bronty smiled as they rode to find their bounty, as the forest returned to its ways.

\- * -

Euphos and the hunters stopped a distance from Kleon and stood to watch Spectral units patrol the wall and the guard the portcullis. A voice came from behind. "Daddy?"

Euphos craned his neck, wondering who in the world would refer to the hunters as "Daddy."

"Daddy, you are riding too fatht. You need to let me on your horthe." Fowbip climbed up Euphos's horse's leg and sat behind the hunter, then wrapped his arms around his waist. Fowbip pushed his cheek into his daddy's back. "I'm here--we can ride."

Bronty and Voyancer chuckled, and Euphos thought he saw Shebiss smile. "And where are we riding to?" Euphos asked.

"Wherever. Jutht give me a toy when we find a thtore."

Tric hovered around Fowbip, inspecting the seever. He didn't seem to think the seever posed a danger, or he would warn Euphos. When Tric didn't protest, Euphos put his attention back on Kleon and the Spectral units marching around the city.

They had planned on visiting Rider Mass to inform the pontiff that his rat problem would be over. When they came to the top of a hill that perched above Kleon in the west, they spotted Spectral units on the city walls. The black carapaces of the armored troops replaced all Kleon's town guard that remained.

"Spektros has invaded the city?" Shebiss marveled.

"Mass said that he refused to give them his guards," Voyancer responded. "Probably used their refusal to justify taking the town."

"Mass does not have a way to stop their aggression, with his town so badly hit with the rats and the cult," Euphos added. "There seem to be several forces working to destroy Kleon and Phracia, all at the same time, and Spektros sure seems to be benefiting from it."

Spektros did not have authority to take command of towns from their state governors, but if they claimed that it was sedition to refuse to assist the capital with troop grants to defend the empire against Stum Igbo, they could convince the Spectral Assembly to rewrite or ignore the Frissian Constitution: the document that detailed the structure of Phracia's government.

The hunters rode to Lectidomes, electing to avoid Kleon. They had stopped the Rat King, and Kleon no longer had to worry about being conquered by the seevers, but the town's problems had got worse. If Spektros occupied the city, this would set a terrible precedent. Spektros could not legally take powers from the city governments, as Phracia had been set up as a federation. If Spektros simply took cities with force, the local rulers would not have recourse against domination by Spektros. The Frissian Constitution specifically divided powers between Spektros and the Frissian states to make sure that the central government, Spektros, could not simply run the Spectral Empire as a dictatorship, thus violating the major tenets of Bas's Keys to Empire. Tyranny would be inevitable in this case.

They rode to Lectidomes, the capital of Thephobium, to stay the night. They would ride to the Noble Hills in the morning, to find the horror that stalked the land, killing and kidnapping. Euphos cursed himself for allowing the Jecta to be destroyed.

\- * -

Euphos rented a room at an inn on the south side of Lectidomes and slept alone on a wooden bed, only a window and a table to distract his mind, while his fellows found their own accommodations. The battle with the Rat King helped him to escape the looming death that tortured his memory. The impending doom grew, and every waking hour he could see shadows at the periphery of his conscious perception, like rogues hiding on building ledges, pointing their daggers at his back as he walked the alley between houses of ill repute. The shadows grew every day, and he could no longer hide from their gloom.

The hunter shut his eyes and traveled to the land of eternal night, to the astral dimension where he could continue the quest to find the source of his visions, in addition to killing the tyrant Vau Geru. He stepped within the bounds of the Asylum of the Wracked and hovered to the tower at the center of the courtyard.

The tower stood alone. No other buildings distracted from its whiteness, and it could be seen for miles in every direction. The asylum's faculty worked inside the tower, many doctors who would help the spirits with their disjointed natures.

A spirit met Euphos at the entrance of the tower. He stood several feet taller than Euphos and wore a white robe. He stood to the right of the wide portal, his hands clasped and his nose pointing down at the hunter. Only his eyes moved when the hunter came forward.

Euphos walked into the tower and found a massive circular chamber, the walls perfectly white and smooth like porcelain, with windows shaped like hand prints. Euphos inspected the bottom level of the tower, not seeing any other spirit save the guard. He stepped outside again. "Can you tell me what this tower is for?" he asked the guard.

"You will find who you are in this tower. Why your spirit is forsaken."

Euphos went back into the tower and the guard closed the entrance with a curtain whose cloth turned as stiff as metal and shut Euphos alone inside the vast chamber with white moon designs painted on the tiles.

A woman's face formed on the tiles, with dark lines for hair. Euphos could not take his attention from the face. Her beautiful smile, formed with tiles of various shapes, complemented her long dark hair, and her piercing stare unsettled the brave hunter. "You are the veteran of a hundred battles," she said, "and yet this woman's attention causes conflict within you that you do not feel in the midst of your most harrowing adventures." The mouth tiles formed the words and then she transformed from a set of tiles into a woman's spirit that stood just one step from him.

Euphos could not talk, as his mind was enraptured with the woman. A pressure built up inside, the looming memory that haunted his waking hours. Euphos raised his hand to touch the spirit but he could not--he simply could not touch her.

"Touch me," she said, her voice more beautiful than any sound the hunter had ever heard. Euphos's hand could not move, and would never move, even if they stood there forever. He would not allow himself to touch her. "What is wrong?" she asked, watching Euphos for some flicker of emotion.

"I can't," he said. "If I touch you, then . . ." He couldn't finish.

She waited in desperation. "Tell me!"

"I can never tell you. I will never tell you."

Euphos lamented his life. The one thing he wished to control more than anything else, he found to be almost impossible. The woman . . . he could not say it, even to himself. He wished to take this spirit before him, to simply possess her, to imprison her in his home if he must. But then that would be because she did not come willingly, and if she did not come willingly, it would be because she did not love him, correct?

The tower rocked violently, and the woman stood back from Euphos and reformed herself into tile. Euphos hovered while the tower wobbled, the land bouncing around like when he sailed on the schooner. Then a purple shape came to life in the air, like a rip or a wound.

It grew to the first platform inside the tower, several times his height. As the tower rocked ever more violently, the colors in the wound morphed and particles from its glow formed around the wound like fragments. The tower guard threw the curtain open. "Get out, you!" he shouted at Euphos.

Tiles from high above broke and rained on Euphos as the tower's spectral constitution came undone. The tile woman stared at Euphos while the wound grew to the upper tiers of the tower. Horror on her countenance touched the hunter. _Finally they will see me on the inside, they will feel the terror that lurks like an assassin,_ Euphos mused.

The wound turned into a massive city block, tenements with tiled roofs and parapets. Rain poured, the night sky blued from the moons. Shadows hid everything above, with some windows at higher levels yellow with the glow of lanterns.

Euphos walked along a stone alley that became slick with oil from grime and constant vagrant use. Tonight Euphos walked, the lone spirit in the alley, the lantern posts behind him not close enough to let him see. Shadows moved above, on the ledges, and he didn't dare look. Rain splashed on the stones.

He tightened his coat and rushed toward the intersection where the alley touched another. Lanterns there would allow the hunter to view his map, find a route to take him from the alleys, but he dared not glimpse the things above. Too late. Their boots slapped the pools on the stones. They stood just beyond the lanterns' glow.

Euphos kept the figures in his peripheral vision, refusing to risk a glimpse. He could not fight: his blade and bow would be ineffectual against the monsters from the rooftops. Their power to torture their victims with only a look made all weapons irrelevant. The figures grabbed Euphos and yanked on his hair, attempting to force the hunter to see their wicked forms, to infect the hunter with doom. Euphos kept struggling, kicking and thrashing, avoiding the shadowy figures and the horrors that they promised to inflict on him. They pressed thumbs into his eye sockets and lifted his eyelids, forcing the hunter to see their horrible forms.

Euphos stared, and their shadowy forms became a woman, her black hair their shadows and her skin the pale moons' glow. This woman he knew: Pressia. Euphos remembered his wife; she went to town, to the tailor to purchase a new blouse. His mind erupted in torrential waves of despair, and he slid to the stones.

The tower guard suddenly pulled Euphos from inside the tower, ripped him from his vision in the alleys. "You do not belong here. I do not know who you are, but you are not one of us," the guard said as he lifted Euphos's spirit and threw it from the tower. "The asylum is for the Wracked Souls, and whatever your spirit is, I do not know. The tower is destroyed."

The walls cracked and sections of the tower broke, debris crashing against the remaining structure. Spirits fled, while the wound grew to engulf the entire building. Euphos watched the wound rip the tower to its foundation. Then the wound gathered up the tower debris with a cyclone.

"Whoever you are, go, and never—" The sounds of spectral fragments swirling like shattered glass interrupted the guard. The more coherent spirits fled while the rest hovered, suicidal or too disturbed to comprehend injury.

Euphos watched the cyclone build a massive temple with the collected fragments. Four buildings, connected by halls, formed a continual loop, with turrets between the buildings. The wound put the structure together as fast as it tore down the tower.

The new white walls resembled the tower's, with windows depicting gods and devils. The wound hovered to Euphos and then rushed into his body, the black energy returning to its source. Spirits hovered to Euphos, in awe of the hunter, while he recovered from the feeling of the forsaken energy rushing back into his soul.

Euphos hovered to the temple as the wound had hovered to him, and the guard stood at attention at his post, the portal to the halls of the temple. The guard had resumed his duty as if he had never witnessed the transformation of the tower to this ring of building and halls. Euphos remembered the Storied Lighthouse's words that even the gods watched the hunter. He believed.

He moved into the vestibule, the portal taking the visitor directly to the first of the temple's chambers. Spirit patients moved inside the temple as if it had been standing forever and not just constructed moments before. A woman in a white robe, with an equally white veil, came to Euphos. Paintings on the white walls detailed the anatomy of spirit, its divisions universal but its details unique.

"Come this way," she instructed him. She guided the hunter into the back room of the chamber, to a room about the width and length of Euphos's home in the swamp. A table stood against a wall, with a sheet of parchment and a quill. "Clothes--remove them, if you would. I need to see your spirit and clothes obscure my ability to view it."

Euphos stripped. The woman eyed him for a long while before drawing on the parchment. "We are here to detail your spirit, with its unique construction. All spirits are different, and we will draw yours. You then take the drawing to the second chamber, following the signs."

The woman put on a pair of goggles, then drew. "Spirit is bound together, and the vurge is the mechanism that binds it together like your bones hold your physical form together." She held up her drawing and pointed to the oblong shape where the chest would be. "Your pompese system is the network of spiritual sense organs. They are like your skin and allow you to tap into the vast spiritual world with your emotions. Your ombicte system is the division of your spirit that gives it a conscious sense of itself, and the density of your spirit affects the challenges that your physical form will suffer."

The woman drew a network of lines like a tree branch with many branches growing from the source. Euphos could not comprehend the details. When the woman completed the drawing, she handed it to the hunter. "Put your clothes back on. Take this to the diagnosis chamber."

Euphos walked into the vestibule, where the white interior of the temple made everything appear blurry, like walking in a snowy forest. He moved into the hall that connected the first two chambers. Euphos needed to talk to Cjonah, his friend and butler to the spirit dimension, about the events that occurred here. The reforming of the tower into the temple seemed to be the latest event that proved a divine hand guided him. The distortions at the Spectral Canyon and Cjonah's surprise at the hunter's effect on the spirit world, along with the words from the Storied Lighthouse, all added up to Euphos believing that indeed the gods paid attention.

He came to the second chamber vestibule. Another woman came to help. Her dark hair contrasted with the first woman's blond hair. They both wore white.

"May I have your drawing?" she asked.

Euphos gave her the drawing and she led the hunter to a chamber with several chairs. The woman's form became obscured as she moved around the chamber, her white uniform indistinguishable from the white room. "You should sit. I need to study this." While he waited, a different woman took Euphos's mind again, much as had the woman in the tower. The haunting vision rose again, about to make itself known.

His hands tapped his chair, and he felt his arms about to choke his own neck. The shadows in his mind manifested themselves differently in the spirit world, and their effects became more pronounced. The attendant would have to hurry or he might not survive his own mind.

Visions of women staring at his woeful, pitiful form arose. In his vision he knelt on the stone pavement and bent his hands to block the visions of the women standing around him. He could not dare even glimpse their angelic forms. One blonde woman taunted Euphos. "I dare you, coward. You're too pitiful to get a good picture of me? Quit being such a sniveling dolt!" Euphos thrashed around in his chair, the haunting vision of the women locking the hunter in his own mind. Their stares are too much for me to handle, he said inside.

A hand grabbed Euphos. He almost fainted. "Come with me, sir," the woman said. He followed her into another room and sat on a chair. The woman put his drawing on the wall and then grabbed a stick to point out the details of his spirit.

"Your first instructor described the divisions of the spirit. I will tell you what the defect in your spirit is, or its major conflicts. You would not have come here if you did not wish to find out this information--am I correct?"

"Yes," Euphos answered.

"First, we must talk about your spiritual density. This is a good indicator of tension and strife. Most of the asylum patients have denser spiritual constitutions and you do, too. The difference is that your spirit seems to be constructed of different spiritual matter. Density of spirit when it comes to one like you is not a characteristic I can determine."

Euphos shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Your spirit is built with matter that I have never encountered. It seems to be impenetrable, like the strongest metals. There is the hand of Vursa in your spirit, as with all spirits, but she constructed it in a way that will never allow you to rest. On second thought, I'm not sure about my first statement. I believe Vursa constructed your spirit, but it's possible that another force assisted--I would have to study it longer to give you a better diagnosis."

"Give me the bad news," Euphos said sarcastically.

"You're right--there's more. Your spirit's vurge is defective. In other words, your spirit is always at risk of simply coming undone. Possible good news is that your ombicte system is developed beyond belief. It has very developed nervous circuits, a revolutionary design. But this could manifest itself in hypersensitivity and might make interpretation of your world distorted or, on the other hand, could make your views of your world exceptionally honed and detailed. You have a festering wound that cannot be patched."

"To sum it up," he said, "my dense spirit makes my life difficult, my spirit is always at risk of permanent death, and I'm more sensitive than a newborn."

"You're a good student, too, I'd have to say. Your interpretation is correct."

Cjonah had said that Euphos should not attempt to change his spirit, but the temple that arose when he visited the tower seemed to be designed for that purpose. Then again, Cjonah had said it would be possible to repair his spirit. The choice would be with Euphos.

The woman gave the hunter a parchment with his diagnosis and instructed the hunter to take it to the third chamber where the physician spirit would be. "I don't think I will change anything, until I know more," Euphos informed the woman.

"That's up to you," she said as she guided the hunter into the hallway.

Euphos found a white-robed male dwarf in the third chamber. "Step this way." The hunter followed the dwarf into a room inside the chamber. Euphos sat on a bed, and the dwarf sat in a chair. Various tools for spiritual repair sat on a table in the corner of the room.

A device with several gems on its handle and sharp points on its extremes lay there, and a loop--metal--glowed red and hung on a stand. The tools all seemed to be built from gems or other magical objects, with unusual metal shapes extending from their frames.

Euphos gave the dwarf his diagnosis and waited patiently while he viewed the parchment with a monocle. "Do you have any of the conditions listed on your diagnosis? Your ombicte system is revolutionary," the dwarf said with a surprisingly gruff voice for a dwarf who worked in a temple.

"I'm probably more sensitive than most, but it helps me to hunt, among other things," Euphos said.

"More sensitive than most? Your nervous architecture is more sophisticated than anything I've ever seen, but you're right, it could assist you in certain things, even battle. Your relationships with people?"

"About those," Euphos continued, "tense would be the best word to describe my relationships."

"The good news is you have unbelievable potential with your spirit's architecture. The bad news is I can't fix this. The way your spirit is constructed, it is guarded, as if the gods would prevent me or any other surgeon from repairing it. Your vurge will destroy your spirit if I touch it. The gods booby-trapped it. You can skip the fourth chamber."

"The fourth chamber?"

"They follow up with my work, making sure my procedures have done their job."

Cjonah had known instinctively it would be best for Euphos to avoid changing his spirit. According to the doctor's observations, Euphos's spirit would be destroyed if he attempted to repair it. Euphos pondered why the gods built his spirit that way, and whether a spirit could be "broken" if the gods intended it to be.

The god of decision and choice, Ides, infused beings with free will, and they would have the right to repair their broken souls if they decided to. For Euphos, this would not be an option. "Thank you, and thank everyone else for me," Euphos said.

Euphos hovered into the hallway, then moved around the fourth chamber to the temple entrance. He thanked the temple guard and entered the asylum's yard, avoiding the patients there. Wracked Souls hovered to the newly built temple to be the first to enter its halls.

The sound of drums came from the spectral prairie to interrupt Euphos's ruminations, the sharp snap of the sticks reminding Euphos of the drums played by the Frissian armies as they approached a battlefield, not the booming drums played by the ogre armies from Stum Igbo. The drumbeats arose from the south, methodical and precise, like the chisel of a gravestone mason.

When the hunters made it to Lectidomes before night and found lodgings, Shebiss warded the entrance to his room. Anything that came close to his room would trigger the spell, sending a warning impulse to the warlock's mind. He pulled the wooden bed out of the corner and set his blade on the blankets, pointing south.

He had covered his long blade in blood, and the blood burned, the emblems on the blade glowing as they pulled in the life force. He had then wiped the blade from hilt to foible, until it reflected the emblems' glow like a mirror.

He let the killings take his mind.

The seever deaths filled his spirit with ecstasy--the feel of splitting the seevers' dirty hides, the instant he ripped through the protection of a skeleton and threw the organs with a swing, coating the walls with entrails and blood. But he needed to kill more intelligent beings: the seevers quenched the thirst of the Lord of the Seven Hatreds like water, not wine. The more intelligent the victims, the more Shebiss would see his blade grow in power. Killings added emblems to its hellish steel, emblems that his patron granted the warlock in return for blood. Curses from an ancient devil's tongue, the emblems were like medals, granted to the most vile.

The more emblems he owned, the more spells he could access. Eventually, he would have to find another blade to continue his collection and augment his power.

Shebiss gripped his blade and transferred his sensations of killing to its grip, feeding his hungry blade with death and destruction. The euphoria the warlock felt when he killed fueled his blade's power to curse, a power that formed a perpetual black halo around itself and its wielder. Those close to the warlock would feel its forsaken energy drawing the will to live out of their spirits, while it cast its doom like the shadow of a coming storm. The warlock lifted the blade from the bed, then slept the rest of the night with it loosely clasped in his hand. Dawn arose with sounds of the busy avenues pouring into his window.

The hunters decided to rest for the day. Euphos would visit the travelers' guild to get information about the Noble Hills and the Wisperium Forest, the woods that surrounded the haunted hills. The hunters' wounds mended, and their endurance was restored.

Euphos, Fowbip scampering at his side, entered the guild, a wooden structure with a dark-stained interior. An elf sat behind a desk at the side of an expansive room with high ceilings and ladders on metal tracks. Tall shelves brimmed with tomes, maps, and tomes with maps. "I'm looking for information regarding the Noble Hills."

"There are maps stocked according to letter. For more recent information there is a pamphlet here regarding important happenings in Thephobium, around Lectidomes. I believe there are some reports about the Noble Hills. You would be wise to consult the reports," the elf said as he pointed Euphos to a table.

Euphos sat at the table and picked up the local reports. Fowbip slid up a chair and sat at the table, too, then shuffled the parchments around like a deck of cards. "Don't wreck the reports," Euphos warned. "People need to use those, like me."

Fowbip slid the parchments back and forth. "Thure, Dad. Thith ith fun. They thlide around like--I don't know--like thlick thtuff."

Euphos pressed his hand on Fowbip's collection of parchments, trapping the papers to the table. "Did you hear me? Don't make me take you back to the room."

"You know I put mapth into thelves too, Dad."

"Do you remember anything on the maps about the Noble Hills?"

"No, I can't read."

Euphos controlled his breathing to avoid getting angry. "Then why did the seevers let you do anything with the maps?"

"They didn't. I just annoyed the otherth while they did thtuff."

"Yes, that you're good at. Go find Mom, Fowbip."

"Where?"

"In her room. I'll be back in a while."

Fowbip bounced from his chair and shuffled back to their rooms to find Bronty. He knocked the table around in his enthusiasm to go find her, so that parchments flew from the table, sliding across the wood planks. Euphos watched the seever rush from the guild like a child after his dog. Bronty had better be right about him.

The hunters traveled north and west from Lectidomes when the suns rose the next morning, Bronty painting a mask of warding before they began their journey. Her mask resembled a warrior's helm, with black spots like rivets on the angles of its metal. The mask's black markings extended to her jaw, and her neck was unmarked, as if the helmet covered just her head, and rectangles around her eyes were unmarked, too. The mask improved her shielding spells and heightened her ability to sense wicked spirits and evil magic.

The hunters rode beyond the city gates, the walls of the capital resembling those of Spektros, white and high. The university spires dominated the city sky, the pride of Lectidomes being its devotion to the pursuit of knowledge--philosophical, not magical.

Praycium, a state at the northwest tip of Thephobium, functioned as the import hub for Phracia. Freight from the lands of Xipigong, Siopath, and Rontus Pikaurus arrived at Praycium's ports, the merchant marine then distributing the goods to every corner of the empire.

Production from Phracia had declined when the Cult of Revolution formed and wandered the lands, the pursuits of producers anathema to their cause. Without production, the cult lived off the land until the goods ran out, then raided producers' stocks.

Without production to export, Phracia could not import enough to handle the needs of its people, and towns were having to post more guards to protect their goods from the cult's raids. Magic could make up the difference to some degree, casters able to conjure up goods. The cult produced only misery and chaos, but they grew more every day, much like Euphos's anger. 

# Chapter 13

"Did the guild have information about the Noble Hills?" Voyancer asked Euphos as they rode on a wide dirt highway that wound toward the Noble Hills and then to Graven and Tressus in the north. The trees and brush on the hills glowed white, the grass black, and the clouds covered the suns. Euphos explained from his reading that the Noble Hills, surrounded by the Wisperium Forest, was populated by rich merchants and powerful governors before Gutto the Shiner arrived and slaughtered the inhabitants. Lectidomes could not afford to send men to take back the land from Gutto, the stitched horror made from the pieces of various criminals and monsters.

Paladins of Aos, the god of sorrow and pain, set up a post on the periphery of the Noble Hills and made gains in retaking the territory. The paladins fought to remind the Frissians of the importance of sorrow. The Cult of Revolution taught that pain and sorrow should be wiped from the world, that people should not have to suffer. They despised Aos, even as they caused more suffering themselves.

The cult prevented the cultists from following events on Phracia, outlawing news and publications that would cause their followers to question the cult. They promised permanent joy once their utopia came to be, a world without the pain that arose from self-responsibility, a world devoid of all emotions that would cause one to resist the cult's will. Hate would not be tolerated, since hate divided people, and there could be no division in utopia. An individual who hated would be seen as selfish, as detached from the collective. A person who hated might have principles, beliefs, and those could not be tolerated.

"Aos sent his warriors to patrol and take back the Noble Hills. They are fighting back toward Gutto's keep."

"Aos?" the psionicist asked.

"His temple is growing," Euphos explained. "They are more than willing to fight corruption and are some of the only warriors left in Lectidomes because of the war in Eudybium."

"There is much pain in the world," Voyancer said, "more, maybe, than since the Time of Absolute War. I understand that Aos does not seek to multiply pain with chaos and anarchy. There is plenty of sorrow to be felt in the normal path of life."

Aos formed and governed pain and sorrow as emotions to assist people in finding value in their lives. A widow's sorrow helped her find worth in the time spent with her husband. Pain in the heart of a wronged lover helped him find passion in his commitments. The anguish felt from a strike of a blade reminded a person of the value of their shield.

The god's paladins fought evil much as did the paladins of Vursa, and of Bas. If there were no conscious beings around, there would be no pain to feel, and the god of sorrow would be ruler of a concept--a shepherd without a flock.

"As a psionicist myself," Voyancer said, "I have to thank Aos. We use pain to impel. Without it, psionics would be much more difficult."

The hunters looked to Shebiss to see what he would say.

"Pain is irrelevant. I only seek to kill," the warrior said. "If I could kill without a wound I would. Sadism and masochism are powered by emotions. I kill for power alone."

"Do you seek to avoid causing pain?" Bronty asked.

"No. My foes will be destroyed, and their pain or their loved ones' pain is irrelevant."

"Your focus is good for us, bad for our foes," Euphos said, "the key word being 'us.'"

Bronty wondered if Euphos comprehended Shebiss when he questioned the Biotian's mental fitness when they were close to the Rat King's lair. Euphos had looked unconscious when Shebiss made the comment, but he might just have been conscious enough to make out what the warlock said. She wouldn't bring it up until Euphos did. The warlock would not hesitate to voice his concerns, and she could not fault Shebiss for that.

They rode several hours, coming to the paladin fort before high sun. Timber from the Wisperium formed a palisade around the fort, with towers at the corners. Roaming undead from the forest would attack mostly at night, and Gutto the Shiner's magic grew the Noble Hills' population of undead denser here than in other parts of the empire.

Gutto served Magno, god of evil, as an anti-paladin. Stitched together with sections from forty chaotic killers, still alive when divided, his form resembled a map of Phracia, lines of stitches dividing his anatomy like states and rivers. He stood twice the height of most beings.

The hunters came to the gates of white timber, like bones. A paladin of Aos followed the hunters from a parapet as they came up the path. His reflective mail glowed forest white, his cloak white, and his eyes painted black, as with all paladins of Aos. They decorated their mail with the symbol of Aos, a black flower known as woe's hyperius, that had petals shaped like shadows, abstract and angular. It grew in dark lands, bathing itself in the energy of the night, a negative energy that formed when the spirits of Phracia came to haunt, and rotten undead roamed, killing everything they found.

"Identify yourselves," the paladin commanded, wielding a massive blade and bow.

"We are bounty hunters, sent from a cleric of Vursa in Leuctus, here to collect a bounty for Gutto the Shiner. I am Euphos and I will vouch for all of us."

"Who sent you?"

"Schute, from Leuctus."

He gave a hand signal and the gates swung open. The hunters rode into the fort and found a wobbling magic shield surrounding their group. Blue waves of energy vibrated and clouded the view of the interior of the fort. "Ride into it," the paladin said. "It will inoculate you from the infections of the Wisperium."

The hunters continued.

"Stop," Bronty said. She cast a detect-enchantment spell, drawing on the spirits of the forest, most of them warped, but still many uncorrupted. She dismounted and put her palm on the grass. The spirits rose up into hers and wound around the shimmering shield. "Never can be too sure," she declared. "The magic is safe."

They rode farther into the fort where several cabins stood in the perimeter of the palisade, which had an interior area the width of two arenas. Paladins stood on all of the walls, and others filled barracks and other day rooms. A temple guarded by a commander's cabin had high pointed gables adorned with a woe's hyperius. Its portals resembled a skeleton's eye sockets, the white wood like a skull. Three paladins--two elves and a dwarf--approached the hunters. The two elf paladins weighed about the same as humans but were slimmer and taller. The dwarf's shoulders measured about as wide as the elves', but he was much shorter.

"We are the Asuss Chapter, Aos's faithful servants. You can sleep in this cabin here," the tallest elf said, pointing behind him to a long building with cots and several more paladins inside. "We recommend you talk to our information agent about your quest. He is in the visitors' cabin at your right." The guards gave Shebiss a warning stare. "You will obey Aos's rules here, warlock."

"I vouched for the warlock--that is all you need," Euphos said. "Thank you." The hunters rode around the fort's interior, to get a good idea of its structure and personnel, and then found the visitors' cabin. Euphos estimated around a cohort's worth of paladins were in the fort.

Aos's followers celebrated sorrow with black markings on their eyes. Their god granted to his faithful spells that would inflict severe emotional disturbances, such as the spell Doom. The god of sorrow seemed to have more importance to the planet than did any other god, the people of the haunted land of Phracia giving the planet its title, "The Rule of Aos." A pall of sorrow seemed to have been cast on the land at the very genesis of the world, the lands of the dwarves and elves infested with nightmarish fiends. The ensuing wars left scars on their homelands and cursed their peoples with murder and chaos.

The elves developed their psionic potentials as a matter of culture. When a massive energy wave of unknown origin hit their home of Siopath, their minds were warped, and they slaughtered their kin in battles with no political purpose. The psychosis swept the land. Psionicists' minds could manipulate the forces that operated on matter. They controlled other beings' minds more easily than they controlled matter itself. They could move physical objects but found it simpler to manipulate the mind. Their intimate knowledge of their own minds allowed psionicists an instinctual control of the minds of their targets, and they trained to develop a heightened sensitivity to things affecting the conscious mind. This caused the alien energy wave that struck their land to affect the elves more than it did the dwarves. The event had been dubbed The Flood.

At the birth of Rontus Pikaurus, dwarves found their people in lands inhabited by massive predators, taller than trees, hunting in packs. Volcanic eruptions and earthquakes rocked the land itself, making the dwarves' task of populating the land a harrowing event. Many dwarves fled underground, or into the mountains, to build kingdoms. Tribes found vast waters in the mantle, and built their kingdoms on the coasts of the subterranean oceans, where they found ancient beings competing for dominance of the depths.

Above ground, the dwarves swept the jungles and built massive temple kingdoms. Druids found an immense amount of power in the dense jungles, and they were able to power their spells to unimaginable levels with the spirits of the jungle. The raw, primal spiritual energy within the jungles allowed the dwarves to erect and defend powerful kingdoms, and many still stood. The dwarves, like the elves, found sorrow in abundance, and they respected the god of pain for his warnings.

Euphos stepped into the visitors' cabin and found a modestly clothed man, balding, with a satchel of parchments and maps hung on his shoulder. He marked positions on a map on the wall with tacks, and made notes with a quill pen. Voyancer and Bronty stepped into the cabin, too, and looked around at the maps. The attendant marked on a map of the Noble Hills the many mansions that gave the hills their name. The rich and powerful from Lectidomes and nobles from all corners of Phracia made their homes in the hills. Private guards patrolled the hills until Gutto the Shiner arrived and killed them, then reanimated their corpses to provide his own private guard. The attendant marked positions of Aos's paladins and their advances toward Gutto's mansion, a massive keep built to protect the Count of Phuse, a powerful noble from the state of Hsulous.

The count haunted the keep and was servant to the stitched horror. Gutto had exterminated the nobles in the surrounding mansions and controlled the majority of the hills. The attendant's drawings depicted the paladins surrounding the back of the keep, an hour's ride into the hills from the fort, where they congregated for an attack.

A drawing of a winged creature on the wall reminded Bronty of the impish demons that roamed the jungles of Rontus Pikaurus. It resembled a doll, stitched together, with red skin and fangs like a vampiric predator. She picked up the drawing to inspect it and found a lock of hair stuck to the parchment, with . . . blood? "Tell me, sir, why there is a lock of hair on this drawing."

The attendant continued with his map markings. "That is the hair of a woman. The demon you see in the image kidnapped her for the paladin of Magno. She is his prisoner."

Bronty stroked the hair--very fine--and sniffed it--perfumed. Casters could tap into personal effects to divine important details about victims of kidnapping, in addition to locating their whereabouts in the spirit world. Bronty did not have those spells, so they would need to find a practitioner of spirit casting to gather more information about the woman.

Bronty caught Voyancer moving his hand to his temple to scan the attendant's psyche, to find if he could be trusted.

"Who is she?" Bronty asked, to distract the attendant.

Euphos put his attention on the map, building a mental construct of the Noble Hills for future access. Gutto's keep stood at the top side of the hills, where the Wisperium Forest provided cover for the haunts. No doubt Aos's paladins fought to maintain their position with undead surrounding their defense, attacking at all times. The regenerating monsters would be unrelenting in their attacks.

Tric could scout above, to make sure they would not be walking into an ambush. Euphos would take care of the spectres, while the hunters contended with the physical undead. Fowbip could scout the dirt. Wait--that would not be good.

"Daddy?" came the plaint with Euphos's thought of the seever, and the creature was suddenly underfoot again. Euphos entertained the thought that Fowbip could be a construct of the gods, sent to punish the hunter for sins he could not pinpoint.

"Hey, uh, you thould come, Daddy," the seever said. "Uh, I want a toy, Daddy. You promithed." Fowbip clasped Euphos's hand and led him from the cabin. Euphos lifted his view from the dirt to the massive, undead horror standing inside the fort. A monster known as a slict stood just outside the magic shield. Its skeleton and internal organs could be seen, as no skin covered its form. Thick sinews attached to its bones, and when it moved, individual muscles could be seen contracting and stretching. The humanoid slict walked upright, and stood at a row of paladins, bowing its head to indicate that it did not seek trouble. Euphos nocked an arrow just in case.

\- * -

Gutto the Shiner walked the lush lands of Tittung, the infernal land of absolute pain. Magno formed the land to represent his desire for everything to be destroyed. Pain could motivate flesh beings to destroy their own lives if severe enough. Gutto would perfect his power to control pain, and distribute it to every corner of infinity.

The anti-paladin smiled, as always, as he ascended the void mountains. The lands of Tittung would always be unpopulated, with shadowy hills and paths that went nowhere. Whoever walked the land would view it as an eternal trek to a lonely home.

The god of evil designed it to cause pain to social beings, who would feel stranded, alone with no mates, no companions. The anti-paladin walked into a vast forest under a sun shining high, a colorful boutique of plants and grasses. Most beings found the intense colors reminded them of the uninhabited land, reminded them of the pain of isolation. Not Gutto the Shiner. His contempt for beings was unbounded, so the quiet, silent land allowed the anti-paladin to revel in its unfathomable wonders.

He muttered the words to a spell and returned to his keep in the Noble Hills. Today would be the day he inspected his kingdom. He would have his subjects drive him into the hill country to see their homes, and to reflect on the conditions of the people who lived in his purview.

Gutto was on horseback with his guard, several nobles who had lived in the many keeps in the hills when Gutto decided to take the land for himself and for his superior, the herald of the kingdoms above, the true king of Repath Aos Vio. Not Magno, the god of evil, but another figure. Magno should one day reign above the universe, but Gutto's superior, the true king of Phracia, would rule directly, as Magno's herald. This being resided in the Ritual Mountains.

The anti-paladin conscripted the nobles from their keeps, destroying their forces with his, and then dominated their souls with magic empowered by his better, the true king of the land, the right hand of Magno. The nobles rode beside Gutto, fitted in their finest mail, their souls bent into fawning servitude. "This is a joyous day, boys," Gutto said. "We get to see if you have completed the task as I demanded and transformed the hills into a territory fit for the likes of me. Let's hope that you have, as we all benefit from the product." The nobles rode on, gazing at the hillside without a thought, like whipped mules.

They came to a servant's stone one-room house, with its occupants toiling inside. "Come hither!" a noble commanded.

Gutto frowned, not a good thing. "Do not disturb them while they do their business," he said. Gutto dismounted and walked to a window in the house. Inside he saw a woman working a loom, and a man trimming a suit from the fabric. Gutto's smile widened, almost ripping the stitches from his cheeks, when he caught a glimpse of the woman's veins hanging from her arms, yanked from her flesh, looped around the loom, chaining the thrall to her work. The man put a pattern for a vest on his table, then cut a patch from a sheet of fabric. He opened his jacket, allowing Gutto to see throbbing pus sacks on the man's neck, which he wiped with a cloth then stood, causing a flood of pus to fill up his tucked shirt like a water skin.

Satisfied, Gutto mounted again and they traveled into the hills, trampling the black grass as they cut a path toward a rivulet at the top of a hill. The white trunks of the Wisperium Forest at the edge of the horizon housed Gutto's undead minions and formed a white wooden "gate" that trapped ghosts and horrors of flesh. When they came to the hilltop Gutto found children washing and splashing in the rivulet, becoming covered in vile filth. Blood and flesh ripped from the victims of the undead piled up on rocks and dammed the rivulet at points. The blood reddened the children's clothes, lumping in their hair with bits of bone and flesh. Gutto approved.

Gutto rode toward a cluster of shops at the top of a rise, and there found a blacksmith and a carpenter. Gutto and the nobles circled the craftsmen to inspect their handiwork. The blacksmith pounded a bar into form, shaping it to his liking. "My good subjects," Gutto called, "please come and talk to me. I wish to talk to you."

The carpenter finished sawing a plank of wood and joined the king and his men. The blacksmith hesitated, then finally came, looking at Gutto for a sign of his purpose. Gutto rode into their shops to take inventory. He found that the men retained their equipment from their earlier life, maintaining it in good working condition. Gutto unsheathed his massive long blade and ripped into the shops, snapping tools and tables. With unnatural strength, the anti-paladin tore into the blacksmith's bellows and smashed his chimney with gauntleted strikes. Gutto surveyed the destruction and then smashed the carpenter's shop, destroying his saws and drills. Gutto's blade smashed holes in the walls and caved in the roof at points. The workmen watched in horror, the nobles itching to respond to revenge. Gutto mounted. His smile stretched to infinity in his mind, with his joyous feelings for having destroyed his subjects' work.

"I am proud to call you subjects," Gutto said and then rode to inspect the Noble Hills. The carpenter and the blacksmith stood in awe.

Gutto unveiled his eternal wisdom to his guard as they ascended a hill to visit a temple of the god of physical matter and the laws governing it. Stadia's domain included all dimensions, including the astral dimension, anything that operated with a set of laws, even if irrational.

"You see, my kingdom is normal, and will be normal for the whole of Phracia when the true king comes to power. The torment our subjects feel is like water, something that beings must ingest to survive. They must have their lives destroyed, as a matter of principle. They are disgusting vermin, and their inclination is to be dominated, and they feel worth when they are suffering. I would kill them all, but they make Repath Aos Vio more wonderful with their strife and toil. It is the productive, and the lawful, and the kind who are not normal. They do not appreciate their king, and they wish to drive their own lives. We will make sure that what is considered abnormal--that is, slaves and their sadistic kings--will become normal, for strife will be like the laws of Stadia, universal."

The nobles listened to Gutto's words like the sounds of the forest, the howl of monsters, the moan of undead: they perceived no meaning, no communication, no wisdom, just sound. The king and his guard arrived at the temple of Stadia, and Gutto devised a method to destroy, no, to enrich, the god's worshipers.

\- * -

Pursila lay on a bed inside the anti-paladin's stone keep. Paintings on the walls in her room reminded her that the noble who built the keep, the Count of Phuse, would always pursue her. A painting depicted the count battling dragons to rescue her, his true love, from their clutches. An adjacent painting depicted the count kneeling to a demon, hand raised. The Count of Phuse indeed knelt to demons, to ask for power--power to rescue Pursila from the dragons that had abducted her. They would demand his soul in return for power, and the dragons would demand the count's kingdom in exchange for his true love. The count indeed saved her from the dragons, trading his soul at death for her life.

Gutto the Shiner complicated that pact when he killed the count and imprisoned his soul inside the keep. The demons came to collect their fee, but Gutto prevented them. Magno granted his servant powerful wards to protect his keep from the demons, and the count haunted the keep.

Moans came from the halls, and Pursila's skin burned. The count came, his ghost causing the burning sensation as he hovered into her room. Pursila breathed faster as the moons lit the count from a high window, reminding her that he would never touch her again.

Baobuc flitted into Pursila's room from the window and watched as the count hovered to the bed to converse with her, unable to speak, communicating with his hands. Baobuc's red skin shone like a fresh wound, and his wings flapped more like those of an insect than those of a mammal. The demon laughed like a baby upon seeing the star-crossed lovers.

Pursila wept as the count moved to her bed, to watch her with his translucent figure waving like a flag in the wind, glowing like a torch in the wind. Pursila burned with the count's pain and longing for her, longing to touch and talk. Baobuc waited for the best time to interject, to remind the count and his passion that they would never be together, that the count would always be able to see her, never touch her--to torture himself, and to torture her, for eternity, as Gutto prescribed.

The moon's glow lit Pursila, reminding the count of her unbelievable--

"Tell me," the demon mocked, interrupting their reverie. "You are close to the count, and you can see his longing. You will never touch, forever. Explain to me what you are feeling." Pursila did not dignify the demon with her attention, but she listened, and she comprehended too much.

"He is a ghost," the demon continued, "and will be able to haunt you forever, never being able to touch you, nor you him, forever at your bedside, staring with desire." The demon's maniacal laugh bounded into the room, echoing into the halls, made more powerful by a demonic spell. More and more he laughed, as if Baobuc had become a mob of demons, filling up the keep with his like. The count could comprehend his words and the torment of the curse. Pursila would never be allowed to leave the keep, as the count would never be allowed to touch her. Always here, always at her bed, never to touch her. But the count would find a way.

\- * -

Lensus stood inside his office in the House of Rights. In the square, a mob of cult members stood in a line that wrapped around the block, winding behind the House of Rights and all the way to the south wall of Lectidomes. The cult members waited for bread from a shop set up with funding from the government. The cult grew every day and the mobs destroyed sections of the city, to loot its production. They had brought rapid destruction on Lectidomes, and Lensus's compatriots seemed to be oblivious. Any who would point to the event would be quickly shushed, labeled as conspiracy theorists as they found themselves quickly banished from political discussions, the entire body of politicians behaving like possessed spirits.

Wagons of fruit rolled into Lectidomes from the main gate. Suddenly fighting erupted in the city square as a group of peasants attacked the wagons. Lensus figured they were cult members fighting for fruit. The peasants halted the movement of the train as they hijacked the wagon reins. "They're taking our land! Thieves!" the peasants yelled.

Lensus watched and listened. A unit of Lectidomes guards wrestled the peasants and pounded them onto the cobblestones, while the peasants wielded pitchforks, striking at the guards. Lensus suspected that these weren't just peasants, and he ran to the square to get more information.

He sneaked into the violent crowd, ducking punches and dodging blades. He found a peasant, pushed to the periphery of the mob. He slipped right to the man, hoping to question the peasant before the guards realized who he was.

"Man! There! Who are you? Tell me!" Lensus shouted to be heard.

The peasant gripped the representative and pushed with all his strength, but Lensus grabbed his arms. "I'm attempting to help you. Tell me who you are!" Lensus palmed a talin and gave it to the man. "Here. Tell me, who are you men?" The peasant hit the talin from Lensus's hand, sending it into the battling mob.

"You disgusting puke, I want my land!" the peasant shouted, seeming to recognize Lensus as a representative of Lectidomes. "Give me the land!"

"Who stole it?"

"You thieving government scum!"

It dawned on Lensus what was happening. He wound his way back to the stables beyond the House of Rights to find his mount. He found an avenue not blocked by cult or wagons and bolted to the gates, dodging battling peasants and guards, then sped into the surrounding lands of Lectidomes. He rode for the cultivated plots that city guards protected from shambling undead. The farmers depended on the guards for protection and could not attempt to live beyond the walls of Lectidomes without it. Lensus feared they would not be worrying just about undead if his theory proved true.

Representatives of Lectidomes seemed oblivious to the rise of the cult. There could be no other reason than that they, as a class, would benefit from the cult. When Lensus rounded a hill, he found the reason.

Lectidomes farms filled his view. The black grasses of the Frissian lands stretched in all directions, with plots built into the hills. The farms didn't catch his eye, though. The military units did. Lectidomes soldiers marched around the farmhouses, with units standing guard, most likely watching the people that worked the fields.

It appeared that the government of Lectidomes had conscripted the farm lands, taking from the private farmers because they refused to give their crops to the wayward cult. Without money to buy the crops, the city confiscated the land, the government saying that the farmers refused to help their brethren, and therefore the city would be in the right to take their property. The cult preached a doctrine that private property itself should be unlawful, as it amounted to theft since the collective would be deprived of its ultimate ownership.

The government of Lectidomes would benefit from this ideology, being the representatives of all Lectidomes's people, and therefore the cult was providing a solution to the problem of the restrictions of private property. They could control the land according to the demands of all the people, not just a "greedy" private owner.

It would be a group of individuals deciding for the entire population, but they could represent the will of all and refrain from making decisions to benefit just themselves. They would be infallible, and any who refused to accept their rule would be seen as hateful and selfish.

For a government, there would be no better ideology to help grow its power than the cult's. Everything they could do to put power into their possession would be better for the whole because they were representatives of the whole. Bas's Keys to Empire attempted to divide and limit power, but the cult's ideology did the opposite and convinced its followers that liberty itself caused all societal problems. Concentrating power would allow the infallible representatives of the people to bring about utopia, in which self-responsibility, and the pain resulting from having to control one's life, would be eradicated. An all-wise body of nobles would guide and protect its flock.

All the tragedy that Bas helped the people to avoid would come to be, if the god's warnings went unheeded. Fury burned Lensus's mind at the idea that freedom could be dismissed like a disobedient child. The governing classes of Phracia would no doubt adopt this model, as the reports of their refusal to condemn the cult came from all corners of the empire. They directly benefited from the cult and would actively assist the children of utopia to build it. Whoever formed the cult to begin with, if not the governments themselves, received the backing of the aristocrats of Phracia.

Lensus rode to his home inside Lectidomes. The guards had cleared the farmers from the square, and the cult still stood in lines at the shop that had been confiscated from its keeper, as had the farms. The cult stood all day long, waiting to receive nourishment instead of working to make the nourishment themselves. They had no clue what would come to them next.

He might never know who formed the cult. But he did know one thing: without a direct intervention, godlike in power, Phracia stood on the verge of absolutist rule. Lensus sat in a chair in his main room, thinking of ways to inform the states of the coming wars. These wars would be inevitable when other liberty-minded people comprehended the events in Lectidomes. Bas strove to prevent the wars for empire that would result from people attempting to build a governing system that supported freedom and prosperity, for these concepts were vital to the well-being of all the people. Lensus prayed to the gods.

The cult believed they would be the benefactors of a utopia when their governments came to be. But everything the representative from Lectidomes knew about power, and the nobles who wielded it, would motivate him to warn the people about the misery that would be forthcoming when their infallible betters wielded absolute power. 

# Chapter 14

Euphos stood under an awning, listening to the slict as it discussed its relationship with the undead in the Noble Hills. The monster spoke about Gutto the Shiner and his minions. "They came to the Noble Hills with promises to help us take back the land from the nobles. He united us and we performed as he wished, routing the keeps, sending the nobles to the astral dimension--if they were lucky--and we allowed their souls to move on. Other nobles we killed, then destroyed their souls to prevent nobles from making their homes in the hills."

"We should kill you right here, you disgusting—" a paladin said before his compatriot interrupted.

"Let it talk," the superior said. "It knows that its life is at the whim of the paladins of Aos. Do not brag about your deeds or you will be slain where you boast."

"I did not believe you would take it that way," the monster replied. "I will get to the point. Undead are being held by Gutto in his keep, in various torture machines designed for us. More are trapped in the Pist Copse, as a 'reward' for conquering the nobles. I wish you to help rescue the undead, to return us home in the Wisperium. We wish to destroy the servant of Magno, as do you."

"You will fight along with us?" the ranking paladin inquired. "Tell me, we are supposed to believe that this is not a trap? That you will refrain from turning on us when we are in the midst of battle, when we are surrounded? Consider my point of view."

Derse, a white-haired paladin of Aos too young to have white hair, stepped forward. "I will make sure they do not pose a threat to us, but my question is, who is in the slict's control?"

The slict's exposed teeth gave it the appearance of a dire wolf as it bared them. "There are seven, and we are all kin," the slict said. Seven slicts, when one alone would be a match for three paladins of Aos.

"What do we call you?" Derse asked.

"Slicts do not have names," Euphos replied as he came from under the awning. "They communicate telepathically." He came closer to inspect the slict. "I would like to know your technique for making sure this monster refrains from killing every one of you when he's got you in the hills."

The paladins put their eyes on the hunter. "A fix-alignment spell. And who are you?"

"A hunter who knows that an alignment spell may prevent the slicts from attacking you but will not prevent undead from ambushing you, undead that you have not been able to cast your alignment spell on, or any physical trap that this slict aims to lead you into."

"The alignment spell will prevent the slict from leading us into traps."

"Yes, but it may not know where they are. If you travel into the Wisperium Forest you need a trapper. The whole forest is a trap in a sense."

"You saying you will come along?"

"Yes. We are here to kill Gutto the Shiner for Schute Vas, cleric of Vursa."

Derse moved to inspect Euphos. "We should trust you because . . ."

"I am Euphos Lones Trag, from Phasebios."

A paladin stepped forward. "I have heard of this hunter. He is a bounty hunter, and I have received bounties in my time as a hunter of undead too. If he is indeed Euphos, I believe we will be better for it, and would be wise to include his expertise."

"Forgive me," the slict spoke. "I am not offended at your distrust, but I would like a guarantee from you."

"Yes?" Derse answered.

"We should kill Gutto before we attempt to rescue the undead from the Pist Copse, as it will affect enchantments that are keeping the undead imprisoned. You will promise me to continue on, to not abandon the undead in the forest, in case we are successful."

Derse moved toward the slict to reassure it. "We are paladins of Aos. Our word is enough to build all Repath Aos Vio on. Today trust is as uncommon as—"

Euphos raised his blade. "Ghosydium," he said, finishing Derse's thought. Ghosydium shone faintly red in the sun, and a hunter who possessed a ghosydium blade would indeed be a professional. It reassured the paladins of Euphos's true identity.

The hunters slept alone in the visitors' barracks that night. Derse and the paladins would gather at dawn, with the slicts coming to join. Bronty washed Fowbip, then tucked the seever into bed. "You promise to sleep until we wake up?" she asked. Fowbip's long toes held up the blanket like a tent.

"Yeth, Mom. Dad thaid he would get me a toy."

"Yes, I insist," Euphos begged. "Get toys for Fowbip, as soon as possible."

"I'll conjure up a toy tomorrow--that is, in the event you behave."

"Wow, Mom, you know I will be a good boy."

Bronty lay on her bed and entertained the thought of conjuring a fey for the seever. It would keep him busy. He had stayed with Bronty the entire day in Lectidomes, running between her feet whenever she attempted to do anything, like a fire cat chasing a rat that circled around her feet, all day long, and all night long.

"Mom, where are we going at dawn?"

"You're going to be staying here, playing with your toys," Euphos said.

"He should come," Bronty argued. "He didn't bother us in the Hemia Forest." The seever hadn't followed the hunters after they fought the Rat King, or at least Euphos hadn't seen the seever. Neither had the others. "Fowbip, where did you go when we were in the Hemia Forest, after we fought the Rat King?"

"Uh, when?"

"When we were in the forest."

"That'th too long for me to remember. I don't remember things, jutht a few minuteth at a time."

"Do you remember working with the scrolls in the library?"

"Thcroll? What'th a thcroll?"

Euphos pulled his blanket up and closed his eyes. He would need all his strength for the battles in the hills. "Go to sleep, Fowbip," he grumbled. Bronty and Voyancer laughed.

Euphos mostly quested alone, with just Tric. The bounty would always be a foe he could handle as a lone hunter. He rarely took companions as they often proved to be distractions in the throes of combat. In a way, all his battles up to the current time had served to hone his skills--hunting and fighting. The Rat King proved a more difficult foe than any other, requiring more tactics than pure physical ability. As a rule, Euphos did not work with groups, but Schute had never led him astray, and the benefits of having a druid rather than relying on potions or the like would be worthwhile. Still, having to support a group could slow the hunt.

Voyancer's psionic powers made combat much safer, and Shebiss's infernal magic allowed Euphos to stay back. The ghosydium reward would allow Euphos to live in the swamp without worrying about his needs for a long time to come. The hunter went to sleep thinking about the anti-paladin, the macabre army of undead servants, and the haunted keep.

The hunters woke at dawn with Fowbip sleeping to the last minute. "Time to get up, Fowbip," Bronty said as she put his blanket on another bed. The seever's mouth hung open, with saliva pooling on his neck. Bronty grabbed his arm. "Let's get up, buddy."

Fowbip opened his eyes to find Bronty strapping a pack onto his waist. "What'th that for, Mom?"

"This has a small water bladder that you will drink if you get hurt--it will make you feel better. Plus other things we need." Bronty gave Fowbip a dose of the elemental's potion. "You need to get up--we're going in a bit."

Fowbip sat up, stretched, and then jumped on all fours. He bounded around the room, running from bed to bed, circling the bed frames like a housekeeper with a broom.

Bronty took the time to draw a mask, with lines like flower petals, to help power her spells against undead, and to boost her protection magic. Fowbip bolted around Shebiss as the warlock walked toward the wash rooms, the seever clicking his teeth like a chattering bird as he sped around the warlock's boots. Shebiss's blank, aggravated expression never changed, and Euphos figured he would've stepped on the seever had Fowbip not dodged.

As he put on his cloak and bow, Euphos refreshed his memory of the different undead that would likely appear in the Noble Hills. The hunters had embarked on probably the most difficult battle of their lives, but seeing Fowbip harassing Shebiss, Euphos cracked a smile.

The hunters and Derse's force met at the stables and rode into the Noble Hills, Fowbip on the saddle behind Euphos. They traveled on the hills toward the paladins' forward position close to Gutto's keep. Clouds covered the suns, and the black grasses soaked up the grey, criss-crossed with dirt paths evidencing the processions of undead nobles and their servants who still called the Noble Hills home.

Derse warned that only undead roamed here now, no more wagons or people other than the few servants that Gutto allowed to live. Gutto kept the nobles as undead servants, with most servants of the nobles turned into roaming shamblers and the like. The trees of the Wisperium grew on the periphery of the hills, white and grey like a fog they would have to pierce to rescue the undead in the Pist Copse.

"Tell me, Derse, have you been informed of the events at Kleon?" Euphos asked.

"Rangers of Aos have informed us that Spektros has taken the town, that its government is the property of Spektros. Rider Mass is still at the top."

Spektros hadn't installed its own forces to rule the town? Rider Mass didn't seem impressionable.

Sensing the question in Euphos's mind, Derse continued. "I believe they wish to make it look like their elected ruler still rules. That is as much information as I have. The town's chaos likely prompted the move."

"Kleon is just one of many towns gripped in chaos, with the cult or the like," Euphos added. "Spektros could use this rationale for taking many towns."

Derse rode silent for a moment, Euphos's observations likely making him uncomfortable. Euphos decided to stay silent, to avoid looking like he knew too much.

"Hunter, we are in dire times," Derse said. "I serve Aos, as he is my guide. The corruption of the governments that are tasked with keeping Phracia is an open secret. That is all I can say." He paused, keeping his eyes on the hills. "It is beyond my duty to keep watch of everything."

Most Frissians believed as Derse did, Euphos gathered from his travels. Keeping their focus on their responsibilities, not on events peripheral to themselves, most lived within the confines of their surroundings. But the cult seemed to take a view of all Repath Aos Vio, wanting to get people to think as a collective, rather than as factions.

"The people of Phracia are a family, distinct from all others," Euphos said. "If the Frissians do not think that way, they will not have Phracia to call home much longer. Their bonds with their people must stay strong, or anarchy ensues, and with it protection from outside forces, forces that would see Repath Aos Vio ruled by brutal dictators. You are part of the spirit of Phracia, Derse, as is the chapter you belong to. You are responsible for your home just like all Frissians, or there is no Phracia."

"And what about me?" asked Bronty. "Am I allowed to live in your Phracia?"

"Mockery noted," Euphos retorted. "A person who belongs in Phracia will know it as soon as they step on its land, as will everyone who is part of its spirit. Those who ignore the spiritual sense will not find a home anywhere and will be cursed to wander, forever."

Bronty felt a sting when Euphos spoke of people belonging or not belonging. The wars between elves and dwarves had ripped their homes asunder, the lands of both being very close, with ensuing wars to establish territory. The divisions of beings seemed to bring conflict, pain, along with much turmoil. But Bronty could sense the spirits of the land with a sensitivity honed and perfected from much training. Lands possessed certain spirits, as Euphos noted, and they seemed to be like living beings with unique attitudes, in a spiritual sense, much like the various personalities of people. As much as she didn't like barriers between people, the druid could sense that the lands did indeed possess unique spirits.

"You muse much, hunter," remarked Derse. "I gather that you have studied much at philosophical schools--Thephobium is known for its academia."

"The cult has taken the schools," Voyancer remarked, "and actively promote their ideology, to the exclusion of competing ideas. There is no philosophy taught at those schools--there is an ideology, and any who would question it will find no room at the school." The cloudmen were able to gather much from their spy network.

The paladins of Aos recruited from temples around Phracia, with specific chapters writing their own qualifications. Derse could confirm Voyancer's views, with the cult rejecting gods in general because of their divisive natures. If a paladin served one god, he did not serve another, and the resulting factions caused turmoil. The temples were doing their best to keep the cult from destroying their recruitment, but the cult required its members to have one belief, and that belief would be that all things that divide are evil. Any who questioned this would destroy their entire ideology.

"I believe you, cloudman, and we would be wise to remember that the gods are the bulwark against the chaos of the cult." The gods formed to give purpose and law to Repath Aos Vio, to bring stability, not anarchy.

"The cult is able to circumvent the gifts of the gods with arcane magic," Voyancer said. "They do not directly petition the gods for magic. But, yes, I agree--the gods can control all things, and the cult or those who would disregard their importance will always . . ." Voyancer paused. "I weep for Repath Aos Vio. My people sense trials and tribulations ahead."

The riders spotted a group of shambling undead at the top of a hill. Flesh hung from the arm of one, with the bone visible, while it dragged its skin and muscles behind like a travois. Fat and blood dripped behind the shamblers as they walked, almost slid, on the hills, their muscles hanging around their ankles like trousers, causing the undead to trip and stumble. The hunters rode around to avoid a battle, intent on getting to the forward position to reinforce the paladins. They encountered many more undead. Euphos spotted a rhymewolf--a monster possessed by demons, capable of imitating the voices of intelligent beings. Rhymewolves could trap prey with cries for help, or confuse the battlefield with thrown voices like ventriloquists.

The rhymewolf scowled at Euphos with red eyes, while its pack bounded toward the Wisperium. "You will all die. There is no hope for those who come to destroy the forest!" the monster yelled as Euphos watched his kin rip a deer to its skeleton. The deer would rise at some point, to become undead like many in the forest.

Ghosts hovered on the hills, calling to torment the objects of their desire. Able to touch spirit, to strike fright into other beings, ghosts could cause hearts to stop beating in shock from the spirit's chilling grip. Spirits who did not travel to the astral dimension stayed in the physical dimension, where unrequited love, revenge, or the like caused the ghosts to haunt Repath Aos Vio until dispatched. Spells could force the spirits to the astral dimension, or they could be slain with ghosydium. But they risked eternal death if they stayed, and Euphos eradicated many.

They found their compatriots battling a group of vice walkers--undead monsters that resembled smiling, obese men but three times as tall, with needle-like teeth in the hundreds and hair slicked with oil, smelling like the grave. Their legs were more like stilts, and they stepped on the paladins as they might stomp on rats. Clouds of insects surrounded their heads, biting their victims, turning flesh to pulp, then reanimating the results into undead flesh pools. Those pools of flesh moved on the hills to trap more victims, keeping them for the vice walkers to begin the process again until everything became a tool for hunting.

"Watch the pools at their feet!" yelled a paladin as he slashed at a vice walker's knees. A second paladin stuck his blade into the back of the vice walker's calf, to no avail. The vice walker slapped the paladin, throwing the fighter onto the grass, where he slid until he hit a rock.

Euphos did not remember fighting vice walkers, but he did remember studying them in the hunters' guilds in Phasebios. The insects kept the monster fed, with the vice walkers consuming the flesh pools, or flesh. The insects nested in the vice walker's stomach where they reproduced at a rapid rate, replenishing their numbers until they could take even more flesh, to make an ever-expanding insect cloud. "Strike at their stomachs!" he ordered. "The insects nest inside and heal the monsters!" They rode top speed to join in the fight to keep the paladins' position on the hill.

The paladins fought inside a defensible post, four wooden walls and a tower. Vice walkers could clear the walls in a step, and the insects flooded into the paladins' position, trapping them in a whirlwind that lifted its victims up like a gale wind spell. Three vice walkers stepped over the wall into the post, raking at the paladins inside the walls with black claws. The post became a flurry of needles and knives ripping armor, then flesh, to ribbons. Several paladins fought to the post gate.

"Derse, if I bring you those insects, can you banish them?!" Euphos yelled as loud as he could to be heard above the whir of insects and the thumping horse hooves. Bronty saw the insect cloud and wondered if indeed undead nested inside the vice walkers. She sensed that they touched living spirit and therefore would not be undead.

"The insects, not undead!" Bronty shouted. "You can't banish the insects!"

"Bring the insects to me," Shebiss said as he gripped his blade, then muttered curses to bring the symbols on the blade burning to life. The blade's red hue stood like a torch in the dark against the black, grey, and white of the Noble Hills.

"Tric, we need you," Euphos said urgently as he opened his coat and let Tric fly into the fray. "Round those things up and come to Shebiss." Tric sped to the post and rounded up the insects like cattle, shocking them in multitudes while he bounded around the clouds.

The paladins joined their brethren in the battle against the vice walkers, several paladins for every monster, and Derse yelled commands as they surrounded the post. "Come from the fort, form on the periphery walls!" The paladins still inside the post fought toward the gate, slashing at the vice walkers with their long blades. One of the monsters bent to block a paladin with his knee, then grabbed the paladin's chest. The vice walker lifted the paladin to its mouth, ripping the paladin's head from the body with a smile, then eating the armored body whole.

Derse rode close to Euphos, to be able to keep his plan secret. "Euphos, can you hit the vice walkers when they step from the fort? At the knee."

Euphos inspected the walls of the fort, then figured that Derse called for the paladins to form at the wall to lure the vice walkers. "Yes, I think I see the logic. The palisade." The vice walkers would crash onto the palisade, impaling themselves. Euphos rode to the gate wall. A vice walker spun to pursue the paladins, but it kicked the wall, blowing open a hole to walk through. Euphos saw his shot. He nocked an arrow and aimed at the vice walker's standing knee just as its other foot smashed into the wall to make more room. His arrow hit and the vice walker's leg buckled. The creature pounded onto the wooden pikes, its stomach popped when pierced by the pikes, and the paladins hacked it to pieces. The insects that fed the creature could no longer deposit their bounty into its stomach.

Tric collected the insects with his shocks, and a massive cloud followed the Tracker as he drew them from the paladins. Tric found Shebiss waiting beyond the wall and zipped as fast as he could. The insects stabbed at the Tracker, and Tric could not take any more hits without time to recharge, the magical element that powered his form needing time to recuperate.

The insect cloud resembled the ink of a quill pen as it drew circles in the air. Tric looped toward Shebiss with the antagonized creatures right behind. Hot waves vibrated from Shebiss's blade as a massive fire wall built itself along the metal. The warlock pointed his blade and the wall flew toward the insect cloud just as Tric sped beyond Shebiss. The wall smashed into the insect cloud, burning thousands. Smoke and insects rained from the sky.

Only two vice walkers remained. The paladins hacked at their legs, but enough insects remained to replenish the vice walkers as fast as the paladins struck. Voyancer watched the battle from behind, not able to manipulate the animated undead, their minds devoid of intellect. Undead functioned on physical energy alone, without spirit or conscious mind. Voyancer detected intelligent minds behind them, though. When he spun on his mount he saw the slicts from the fort, seven of them, running toward the battle. They would be here in moments, and their massive forms appeared close, but the psionicist would have time to warn the hunters.

_Euphos, behind you, slicts,_ Voyancer communicated psionically.

Euphos immediately saw the slicts rushing toward the fort. "Derse! Did you cast that fix-alignment spell on the slicts?!" he yelled. But Derse was busy, with his attention on the vice walkers.

"The whole lot of us are done if they're not fighting with us," Euphos said as he rode to get close to their fellow. "Derse!" Euphos yelled when he came to Derse's mount and found the paladin fighting with his men at the fort gate, several of them wounded.

"Derse, did you cast the fix-alignment spell?!" he repeated.

"Yes?" the paladin grunted, not understanding.

"The slicts, behind you!"

Derse craned his neck, his face going white when he saw the slicts bounding on the hills right toward the battle. "No, I didn't," he said, dodging a slash.

"You better, quick, or we're about to be killed," Euphos bit out as he turned his mental crank as fast as possible to find a way out of their predicament.

"They were to join us at this post before we went to Gutto's keep. The spell takes time," Derse noted. "Why do you think they will be hostile?"

"It's called naiveté, Derse, and I don't have any."

"There's no way I'll be able to cast the spell before they get here."

When the slicts got there the paladins would still be attempting to handle the remaining vice walkers. The much taller and stronger slicts would destroy the hunters and paladins in straightforward melee, and Euphos would have to unbalance the entire fight to give the hunters any hope.

He found the paladins' mounts in a pen at the back of the post, and then the plan came to him. It would work, but they had to move fast, before the slicts arrived. "Derse, your spell--what are the time requirements? Can you cast it in minutes?" Euphos asked, still mounted.

"I need about three miles' ride worth of time," he said, thrusting his blade.

"Voyancer!" Euphos yelled, but the psionicist battled with the paladins on a far side of the post. "Fowbip," he said, looking around for the seever who was still clinging to him. "I need you to do something. Tell Voyancer to take Derse up the tower. I need you to be a good boy."

Fowbip gripped Euphos, surprised while riding behind his daddy to have any role to play. "What?" he asked.

"Go to Voyancer, say we need Voyancer to take Derse to the top of the tower--go!"

Fowbip hopped from the mount and bolted to find Voyancer. Quickly, Euphos ordered the paladin, "Derse, cast your spell from the top of the tower--Voyancer will take you." The paladin gave Euphos a questioning eye. "Just do it," Euphos repeated. "Get the paladins on their mounts, to follow me, or this battle is finished."

Derse commanded his paladins, "Mount up, follow the hunter--do it!" The paladins moved back, confused but compliant. "Go, go!" They slashed another time or two and left the battle, then found Euphos waiting at the makeshift stable, yelling at them to mount up.

Fowbip bounded around the battle, hopping and dodging blades and claws, and the piles of flesh that moved like blobs. He found Voyancer and jumped onto the back of his mount. "Daddy thaid, uh, he thaid that you, uh . . ." Fowbip couldn't finish his thought. Voyancer saw Euphos at the stable and pushed into his mind. He found Euphos's plan--a mental map--in his mind and comprehended the tactic. The hunters and paladins would flee, to give Derse time to cast his spell at the tower, then bring the undead back when the spell would be prepared.

"You stay with me," Voyancer instructed Fowbip. "Bronty, Shebiss, find Euphos, ride with the paladins, and know the slicts will attack." Bronty cast a cure-wounds spell on a paladin as he fled from the vice walkers, then she rode with Shebiss to find Euphos.

Euphos felt his talisman in his pocket and worried that Fowbip wouldn't remember what to tell Voyancer. Euphos and the paladins mounted up and went west, drawing the vice walkers to attack their back, just as Euphos had hoped. The slicts almost made it to the post. Euphos prayed that Voyancer got the paladin safely into the tower.

"Keep the undead on us!" Euphos yelled as the vice walkers stepped on the hills, swiping at the paladins. Shebiss cast a black-bolt spell, hitting a vice walker in the stomach. They raked at the horses and caught Bronty's. She hit the grass, and her horse tripped, then smashed into the hill, inches from her.

"Keep riding west, to the forest!" Euphos commanded as he hung back then bolted for Bronty. The undead would most likely abandon pursuit if the paladins went any other direction than toward the forest. It would be impossible to catch the paladins on the open hillside, but if the undead could push the hunters to the forest, the other undead would assist their kin. Euphos fought to get to Bronty. A vice walker had lifted its foot to smash the druid but Euphos drew his bow and launched an arrow. The vice walker's stomach popped and flesh rained onto Bronty as she attempted to stand, still in shock from the strike. Insects attacked her while the vice walker stumbled.

Euphos leaned to the side of his mount and grabbed Bronty just before the vice walker pounded his claw into the hill where she stood. Euphos lifted her onto his mount, using all his strength to get her into a sitting position. The insects chased the duo, and Euphos circled back to join the paladins, supporting Bronty against his back, with the vice walkers on their tail.

"Can you burn those bugs?" Euphos asked as she sat up better on her own.

"I need to get my wits about me," Bronty replied. "One second."

She could talk--good. Euphos got a glimpse of the fort at the top of the hill. The slicts had smashed into its walls and broken the wood pikes, with no pretense that they fought with the paladins. The slicts smashed the walls like sticks, their muscled arms like dire apes. The slicts would pluck the paladins' limbs from their bodies and punch holes in their mail with their poisonous claws.

The insects stung Euphos and Bronty, but the stings helped wake the dazed druid, reminding her that she would be a pile of flesh without the help of Euphos. "Ouch!" she yelled, then put a hand on her staff to summon winds. Bronty touched the spirits of the hills with her magic, calling on the forces that dominated the hillside. They touched her spirit and found it worthy of their power. Winds picked up just around Euphos and Bronty, to push the hunters forward and to push the insects from the cloud. This allowed the hunters to speed from the undead. Bronty's chest was pulsing in pain from the impact of the galloping horse on the hills, and she lifted the elemental's water to her lips to mend her bruised bones, some of them possibly cracked.

Voyancer lifted Derse into the tower's observation deck, staying below the tower's guard walls himself to avoid detection. The slicts smashed the walls of the post and continued, giving no hint that they would be fighting with the paladins. "This enough room?" Voyancer asked, just as a slict charged right at the tower. The psionicist pushed into the slict's mind, to direct it to its companions who tailed the vice walkers in pursuit. The slict thumped its fists on the hill as it sped beyond the tower, and Voyancer blocked the sight of the wood post from its conscious mind.

Slicts did not have souls and thus could be called undead, but they possessed high intellect, animated with foul magic that kept flesh alive--flesh with no soul. Psionicists found handling slicts and the mindful undead more practical than working on flesh beings with soul, as the beings did not get distracted with spiritual impulses, just mental impulses.

The paladin went to his knees and put his hands to his temples. He put a hand in the air and recited a prayer to the god of sorrow. Voyancer stood at the walls of the tower, giving the paladin as much room as possible to petition Aos. Voyancer spent his life watching people from above, studying and thinking, as did all his people. He could see the undead bounding toward Euphos and the paladins, and it reminded the psionicist that the Frissians had lived in walled cities for millennia, to escape the wrath of the undead that roamed the land, having to fight every day to keep their people safe. More and more, compromised defenses allowed undead in, allowing the anarchists to destroy the Frissians' safety. Voyancer did not believe his people sent him to Phracia only to pursue a simple bounty. The wise cloudmen believed Phracia would need the cloudmen, in the coming days, to prevent Phracia from destroying itself, and Repath Aos Vio. Save Phracia to save the cloudmen. 

# Chapter 15

Phracia had become the dominant power on Repath Aos Vio, with its military taking up positions close to or on every landmass: Xipigong, Siopath, Rontus Pikaurus, and many islands. Bas's Keys to Empire allowed stability to come to the lands, with Phracia selected as the "rock from the gods, everything set upon it, all depending on its unwavering devotion to liberty, spirit." Spektros did not appear to be living up to its responsibility, with the Spectral forces allowing chaos to take Phracia. Spectral forces abroad enabled dissident factions to bring about chaos in foreign lands. The governments of Siopath rejected the intrigue, accusing the Spectral forces of stoking divisions with Cult of Revolution propaganda. The Spectral forces might have killed powerful politicians, then blamed their rivals, to bring about violent revolution.

Derse prayed to his god, Aos, to ask for the power to realign the dispositions of the undead. Voyancer mused that if Derse could cast the spell on the whole of Phracia, they might just be able to prevent the destruction of Repath Aos Vio.

Euphos caught up to the fleeing paladins, who had found even more undead on their heels. A pack of rhymewolves hounded the paladins, taunting them. "You disgusting fools, this is our home! When we catch you, we will rip your flesh from the bone and pull the limbs from you, wretched scum!" Rhymewolves did not understand speech--they could only mimic sounds, calls, voices. Psionicists could not control the minds of beasts, but druids could.

"Bronty, can you take the wolves?" Euphos asked.

"Undead, it's risky," she quickly replied. "The spirits could make undead more lethal--they do not influence undead like the living. I can tangle the wolves--one second." They rode up as the paladins went west. They saw more undead, a flock of cheich, birds that could absorb energy and then attack the spirits with the spirits' latent energy. The cheich swooped toward the paladins, circling above the procession to get into position to attack.

"Euphos!" a paladin called, seeking direction on what to do, the paladins' procession being pushed from all sides.

"We will go back to the post in a bit, we just need to go a little while more!" Euphos replied. Then they would round back in the hopes that Derse would have his spell empowered, able to cast when they returned. They would need to circle back: as they went west they saw the Wisperium on the edge of the hills, the white forest filled with undead. Lone undead joined in the pursuit--the rhymewolves and cheich found guvits in the pack, and other undead that populated the Wisperium. The guvits' living representatives roamed the woods for seeds and nuts, but undead guvits hunted flesh. Euphos began rounding back to the post.

"We need to go back, follow me!" he yelled as they arced back, adjusting their pursuit as the undead wake trailed behind. They rode wide enough to avoid the vice walkers. "Bronty, let's see that entanglement spell you said you could cast."

The druid held her staff high and picked a spot ahead of the procession, so the spell's entangling powers would hit when the paladins rode beyond the target. She pulled the spirits toward the staff, meshing her life energy to theirs to draw power to the spell. The staff lit up with brilliant green globes orbiting its head. She pointed it at the hills and bolts of power flew into the black hill, causing the grass to grow a lifetime of length in seconds. The black blades elongated and pushed up to take in the spell's life.

As they rounded back, the paladins found the rhymewolves getting closer. The mount of a paladin at the back of the procession tripped when an undead bit its leg, but it caught itself and sped back into position. They would need to get back as quick as possible.

The slicts slid on the hills, using their hands to stay up as they arced with the procession. One slict grabbed a rhymewolf and threw it a hundred feet at Euphos. "You will feel pain!" the rhymewolf mimicked while sailing into the wind. Euphos saw the flying rhymewolf and shot an arrow, hitting it in the chest. The shot deflected the monster and sent it into the hill of tall black blades. The procession of undead then smashed the rhymewolf in their blood-lusting frenzy to catch the paladins and the hunters. A cheich dove to attack Euphos.

It hit the hunter with its talons, raking a crimson slit on his cheek. Shebiss pointed his blade at the flock, and his eyes became fire red, then he blasted the cheich with a chain black-bolt spell. The black energy burned the cheich then moved to the flock, bouncing to every cheich while it ripped into the undead flesh, causing many to flee.

The cheich collected, then called on the spirits, bending the animating forces of nature, manipulating powers to mend the wounded in the flock. The cheich turned black, with bone shields encircling the flock, while they forced the spirits to do their bidding. The paladins and hunters could feel the trapped spirits sap energy from their muscles, and the warmth in their blood got drawn into the cheich as into vampires. Euphos knew they had to get back fast.

All the undead pursued, the rhymewolves gaining on the paladins. The paladins' post showed itself at last, but a slict slid to the paladins, hopped along, then punched a paladin, sending the fighter into the hill where his neck snapped.

In the wooden tower, Voyancer peeked at the procession and saw it was just a short moment until they would make it back. "Can you cast, paladin?" he asked. Derse's body brightened like a sun, a halo surrounded the palisade, building power as the paladin raised his hand to the god of sorrow. Fowbip bolted around the kneeling paladin, never missing an opportunity to get underfoot.

"Fowbip!" the psionicist yelled.

"Ooo--the blue and yellow ith very pretty."

Brilliant globes expanded to encompass the whole post, Derse's body radiating blue as his god flooded the paladin with holy magic. The psionicist pushed into Fowbip's mind a second too late. Fowbip bumped the paladin and shifted his weight. The paladin's spell activated, and blue waves of holy power pushed in all directions.

Euphos saw the spell waves floating on the hills, stopping before the hunters and paladins were close to the post. "Pray to the gods that what I think just happened did not," Euphos mouthed more than spoke, hoping that the bright lights were just the initial spell effects.

"Wow. This doesn't look good. If the spell misfired . . ." Bronty responded.

"The gods eternal," Euphos said in disbelief as they got close to the post, the undead about to catch up. Euphos and Bronty made it inside. "Paladin, tell me that you have not cast yet!" he yelled. The psionicist responded via mental communication, _Fowbip caused the spell to miscast._

"I do not believe it, I . . . do . . . not . . . believe!" Euphos yelled in frustration.

The paladins made it to the post, bolting into and then beyond its walls. Undead bounded at the paladins, just seconds from the post. "Bronty, we will be having a discussion if we live!" Euphos stated as loud as possible, his voice booming like those of the gods.

Yelps, then yells, came from the hills, from behind the walls. Slicts slid fast to the post, and in only seconds they would be inside. "You will pay, foul demon!" Were the rhymewolves mimicking again? He halted, then spun around to see rhymewolves dangling from massive black stalks, high above the hills. Then slicts were smashed by the stalks as the undead fought to no avail, the stalks being many times the height of the vice walkers. The stalks grabbed cheich from the sky, then bashed the undead into the hills while lengthening to clinch the undead still at the paladins' heels.

"Bronty, tell me, did you cast that?" Euphos asked.

She closed her eyes, then pointed her staff at the stalks, talking to spirits. The druid joined spirits with the hills to get information. "The winged undead abuse the spirits to collect power, then use it to force the spirits to do their bidding. The paladin's spell allowed the spirits to sever the chains, and they got revenge, amplifying my entangling spell beyond anything I've seen. We should be thankful."

Euphos saw a slict smashing the tower's support beams, until a stalk grew above the palisade and pulled the slict from its feet to smash it into the wood pikes. The stalks pounded the slict.

The paladins halted when they heard the yells and sounds of flesh and bones being ripped from the undead. A vice walker stomped, still focused on the paladins. It bashed the walls with fists and rushed right at the procession when stalks gripped its neck and yanked its limbs to pieces. Black blood painted the hills.

"You did this?" a paladin asked Bronty.

"The spirits definitely do not like undead," she replied, "and they empowered my spell."

"Thank Fyn," the paladin commented.

The god of luck had smiled on the hunters. Euphos did not like to depend on luck, but as he had found in his time as a hunter, complications always arose. He did everything he could to minimize the unforeseen, yet there seemed to be a guiding force, with a mind to cause unpredictability for its own sake. That force would be a domain of the god of luck.

"Yes, I have to say luck definitely is on our side this time," Euphos said just as the second vice walker came to the top of the hill, then aimed right at the hunters. It stepped around stalks that fought its undead cohorts. "But, uh, let's not thank the god of luck quite yet."

A whinny and a yell came from behind. A paladin's horse stepped into a flesh pool and found itself trapped. The paladin yanked on the reins, but the flesh pool had devoured the stallion's leg up to its hip. The pool grew rapidly, threatening to take in more paladins.

Euphos drew his bow, aiming at the approaching vice walker, while the paladins drew long blades. The vice walker's insects surrounded the hunters, then flitted to the flesh pool to suck up its vile nectar, to nourish their host and build his strength.

"I might be able to save us a battle--move!" Shebiss commanded. He held his blade at the flesh pool, where the insects were gorging themselves until they became bloated with the putrid liquid. Shebiss's blade lit up, its symbols a bright yellow, and he infused the flesh pool with dooming magic.

Electric sparks caused the flesh pool to become white, and the insects filled up with the magic-infused mass of flesh and blood. The insects flitted to their host as it stepped with its stilt-like gait toward the hunters. They flew into its mouth and deposited the liquid, the vice walker keeping its teeth open to allow the insects to bring the feed to their young inside its stomach. The hunters positioned themselves, and the vice walker came into striking distance within moments. Just as the paladins raised their blades to strike, they saw the vice walker's body burst into bloody stumps, its limbs sheared from its body. Shebiss's spell had amputated everything from the inside.

The stalks finished the undead, then collected the flesh with magic empowered by the spirits. The stalks were like the limbs of a massive titan or a god, able to wield packs of undead like bugs. They smashed the undead to bits, and then became grass blades that used the flesh to grow.

"What happened?" asked a paladin.

"We got very lucky," Bronty said.

"The slicts were to meet us at the fort," Euphos explained, "to assist us with defeating Gutto the Shiner. They didn't keep their promise, but this didn't come as a shock. Voyancer and Derse were in the tower, to convert the undead to our side with a spell, but the paladin got . . . disrupted." He turned to look in the druid's direction. "Bronty, we need to have a talk." Then to the rest he said, "The rest of the story you wouldn't believe. Thank Fyn." They rode to the fort, where Voyancer, Derse, and Fowbip met the hunters at the gate. Euphos grabbed Fowbip at the scruff of the neck and motioned to Bronty.

They found a spot behind the remaining palisade, to talk in private.

"Fowbip, if you ever disrupt us again you will be deposited at the local stable--do you get it? Anything . . . complicating our job, harassing us, talking when we are busy . . ."

"Euphos," Bronty said quietly, "he ended up saving us, most likely."

"Are you serious? That could have killed the entire group." Euphos clenched his teeth. "He is going to behave or he is on his own."

Fowbip's eyes watered, and he stayed totally silent. His rat incisors were bigger than ever, hanging from his upper lip like two stone tablets. As much as he wanted to take Fowbip back to Lectidomes for good, Euphos felt a powerful urge to laugh. Fowbip's teeth and his emotional state were about the most hilarious things the hunter had ever seen. _Damn it,_ Euphos cursed to himself to maintain his serious attitude.

\- * -

The hunters and paladins rebuilt the fort, cutting trees from the Wisperium and hauling the wood with the protection of guards from the main post at the periphery of the Noble Hills. Undead had killed several paladins, and Derse sent word he needed replenishment.

Gutto's keep stood on the north side of the Noble Hills, and the paladins would need to build a group to handle an attack on the keep. Scouts described Gutto's mansion as having a permanent guard of undead at the walls surrounding it, the guards being massive stitched beings much like Gutto, wielding pikes and blades as big as the gate to the paladins' post. The paladins would have to figure a way to get inside the mansion. They would be lucky to have Euphos adding his knowledge to the attempt. The paladins respected the hunters, as the hunters had proved their worth in battle.

News from Lectidomes came to the paladins. The government of Lectidomes issued a decree: all peoples of the city had to turn in their blades or spend the rest of their lives in prison. The government itself did not disarm, as they were tasked with protecting the city. The militias gathered at the forest and hills beyond the city walls to put together a rebellion against the governors' commands. Aos's paladins would do what they could to assist the militia.

The cult dominated Lectidomes, and crime had destroyed the productivity of the city. As the cult grew, poverty grew, and the House of Rights believed the only way to bring back law would be to disarm the people, to prevent chaos. Euphos and Voyancer discussed the events.

Derse traveled back to the main post with several paladins as guard. He would go back to Lectidomes with his unit to guard the temples while the government attempted to establish martial law. A high-ranking paladin, he would communicate with city representatives.

Voyancer and Euphos knew that the confiscation of arms would be the latest move to destroy the sovereignty of the governments of Phracia, as Bas's Keys to Empire warned. Authoritarian regimes would always find ways to destroy individual rights, to be able to implement ever more absolutist power.

Euphos asked Voyancer to talk to his people, to gather their theories about the forces behind the latest political events. Was Lectidomes the only city to confiscate its people's defenses or were there more? Would other cities replicate the abuses?

The right to defense could not be more sacred to the god of civilization. If the governments punished good men, taking their defenses, then the governments could not be trusted with anything else. Criminals brought chaos to Repath Aos Vio, and this was used to justify taking the people's right to self-defense. When the criminals ruled, people needed their right to self-defense more than ever.

All society depended on the good man being able to defend it, while the evil attempted to destroy. When governments aimed to destroy their people, they would need to disarm the good, to prevent the good from fighting back. When the criminals outnumbered the good, people would argue that confiscating weapons would lead to stability. But any attempt at confiscation would only disarm the law-abiding, as the criminals did not obey anything but anarchy. When the criminals got wise, they would join the government and dominate the people from on high. People said an armed government that upheld liberty would be subject to the controls of its people, yet without weapons, the people could not even guard their homes. People said an armed government that elected righteous men could govern an unarmed people righteously, but then, only the gods could guarantee that righteous men wind up in government. The entire defense of good society rested on a good man's will, and that good man must be armed.

The hunters and paladins stood atop a hill, scouting the mansion of a noble on an adjacent hill. Euphos could not make out its details as the valley between the hills stretched too far. One of Aos's paladins told the story of the owner of the mansion.

"To defeat Gutto the Shiner you must destroy his guard. Gutto's guards are nobles, four nobles, who resided in the Noble Hills when Gutto came. Gutto slaughtered the nobles and then trapped the nobles' souls in their mansions. He reanimated their corpses to be his personal guard." The paladin paused a moment. "We believe he chose the four nobles because they possessed high positions in important fields: military, academia, religion, and government."

The paladins believed that Gutto wished to humiliate Phracia's powerful by trapping their souls.

"You will not be able to fight the guards straight on," the paladin continued. "Gutto brought the guards back to life as extremely powerful beings, wenzekai. The demon Kakom, king of the destruction of values, made the wenzekai as powerful minions, then sent them into the lands to confuse the morality of intelligent beings. They can sway entire crowds to their master's will, causing beings to see life as irrelevant, motivating beings to live lives without concern. Wenzekai can cause people to view killing and abuse as inherently neither good or bad, just phenomena, like rain or wind."

Wenzekai were almost immune to physical attacks, and most magic. The hunters would have to rescue the nobles' spirits, then convince the spirits to assist in destroying the wenzekai. "A spirit of a being reserves the power to control their physical body, able to prevent it from being converted into undead. This spirit must guard the body and postpone its traveling to the astral dimension. If you rescue the nobles' spirits, you may be able to get them to attempt to retake their physical forms from the wenzekai. A straightforward attack on the wenzekai will be suicide without help from the most powerful casters, and even then it would be risky."

A spirit could retake its physical body from the occupier, but powerful necromancers and the like could make this a harrowing move, as the spirit could find the forces possessing its body to be capable of attacking spirit. Wenzekai would undoubtedly be forces to reckon with.

"We would like to assist you with the bounty," the paladin said as he and his men saddled up. "If you would accompany us, we will give you a powerful boon." The hunters agreed and followed the paladins back to their post to wait until nightfall to ride to the Wisperium. "We must enter at night--you will understand why," the ranking paladin said. The Wisperium would be much more dangerous at night. They would need to travel with a unit, eight paladins, to give extra protection.

The white woods stood like a ghost army, and Euphos caught glimpses, maybe ghosts, fleeting visions. Things hid everywhere in the Wisperium--above in the treetops and even burrowed in the detritus to set traps. The paladins surrounded the group with a repel-evil spell and Bronty painted on a mask like a skull, with inky sockets and shadowy cheekbones.

Tric flitted high in the trees, whose reflective foliage lit up like mirrors. He lit up the treetops to allow the hunters to see, and to prevent ambushes from above. Euphos spotted several living guvits in the trees that ground their teeth when he came close.

The hunters and paladins stayed in a tight group and trotted as quickly as they could. "We have a ways to go. We need to avoid the scissorpeon nest, for the other undead will be frightened," the ranking paladin noted. The repel-evil spell would cause monsters to flee. The scissorpeons did not respect the spell because they could negate magic.

"What are these scissorpeons?" Bronty asked.

"They are humanoids. They fuse their bones with metal they find inside the Wisperium. They are like living blades, and the metal they use to build their bodies allows them to resist magic. The metal flows in their blood, turns them into machines, and they become inhuman. The metal is known as scaria, and it has unusual properties."

Howls and rambling yells bounded. "Are those rhymewolves?" Voyancer asked.

Euphos listened carefully. Rhymewolf mimics would sound incoherent, like quotations from a drunken sailor. The yells seemed to come from people, with very precise control.

Euphos drew his bow. "Are those the scissorpeons?" he asked the paladins.

"No, those are their victims," the paladin said forebodingly.

The hunters rode wide to avoid the howl source. The thick white tree trunks hid the hunters, but Euphos spotted figures between the trees. A muscular one in a rotten loincloth stood close to a man whose arms were tied to wood posts stuck into a creek bed.

"That thing standing is a scissorpeon, so we must go," the paladin whispered. They rode on, but Euphos lingered. The scissorpeon's body looked reflective, much like the tree brush. The moon known as Dosedose stood high in the sky, and its light cut into the Wisperium and lit up the scissorpeon, reflecting from the thousand sharp points projecting from the scissorpeon's skin. He could see the skin only in sections, for metal blades grew everywhere else.

Euphos caught up with the group. "The scissorpeon looks a lot like the trees here."

"The trees take in water that is rich in scaria," the paladin explained. "It has much the same effect." The group came to a glade where trees gave way to black grasses. The Wisperium gathered around like coliseum patrons, watching a bloody match within.

A rock circle built with obsidian chunks stood inside the glade, the obsidian carved into abstract masses. Three hundred people could stand inside the circle, its wide circumference giving the hunters a feeling that they were about to see a performance. Rock lines inside the circle drew symbols and indeterminate shapes. Tall obsidian sections protruded above the circle like a roof, but did not close together. A person inside the circle could see the stars in the night sky, and Dosedose's light bathed the hunters so that they would be vulnerable to ambush from every side.

"We need to get moving," Euphos said. "This is about the worst possible spot to be in." He asked Tric to keep watch around the glade, to stay high above.

The trees reflecting Dosedose was possibly the most fascinating vision Bronty would remember of her time in Phracia. The scaria warped the intelligent beings in the woods, but it turned the trees into a wonderful spectacle. They shone like a trillion gems, every color imaginable.

They rode into the circle. Symbols carved on the obsidian slabs resembled a caster's markings--symbols of objects, not language. Euphos kept his eyes on Tric as the Tracker flitted around the trees. Anything that drew his eye from the lurking killers in the Wisperium would be suspicious.

The stone slabs stood like giants, surrounding the hunters like a tribe, the hunters their quarry. The odd obsidian shapes above poked the sky like blades, with sharp points and purposeful curves. Voyancer imagined that a roof did sit upon the slabs at one point, but that massive forces like catapult stones had shattered it. The jagged shapes looked to be the result. The ranking paladin instructed the hunters to stay close to the slabs while the paladins set up, standing in the center and holding their hands to the sky, to petition Aos.

Bronty watched the paladins, their dark-shaded eyes and the grave thoughtfulness on their brows perfectly capturing Phracia's spirit. The druid kept herself in touch with the spirits wherever she went, and Aos's paladins seemed to be in touch with tragedy in just the same way.

Massive magical walls came together in the sky above the obsidian circle. The paladins called upon Aos to build reflective shapes, and blue and white energy swirled the shapes like a magical whirlpool. The shapes became like still waters, then angled to reflect Dosedose's shine upon the stone circle.

Euphos had to fight the urge to take his eyes from the Wisperium as the reflective shapes drew a shadow inside the circle. The hunters finally understood the secret as they watched the shadow come to life. The shattered obsidian roof blocked Dosedose's reflected shine and shaped the resulting shadow.

The shadow grew, not just sideways but up, gaining volume as if Dosedose filled the shadow like pouring water into a pitcher. Shebiss watched round sections become massive haunches, as thick as the thickest trunks in the Wisperium. The points on the haunches became claws, and a long section became a tail that could grip their whole group in its grasp. Two pectorals grew from two blocky shadows, and then sinewy legs sprouted at the chest. The body inflated like the passenger balloons from Xipigong, and became just as big.

Euphos turned his attention to the mass growing inside the circle. Finally, a maw became visible, and then eye slits. A long neck lifted up and wispy black wings stretched to fill up the whole circle. Euphos had a sudden feeling that he knew this figure, but quickly dismissed it. This thing resembled the Storied Lighthouse, only a hundred times bigger. This could not be the astral seneschal. Its body grew details, until the hunters could see individual scales and a chest expanding, a chest like a galleon.

The thing's transparent skin darkened everything behind it, but the hunters could see beyond the thing, its body like a black veil. The thing brought its eyes inside the obsidian circle and its neck slinked around. The Shadow Dragon judged everyone in its view.

This Shadow Dragon came from mystery, built from the magic substance that filled Botep's universe. It knew things from pure instinct, could predict events purely because it possessed the power to unravel mystery. It did not use an engineer's logic to control events--it relied on the unequaled prescience that lived inside magic itself. The dragon rose to its feet.

It eyed the paladins individually and then the hunters. Euphos felt the dragon lingering when it came to inspect him. Black shapes with precise angles made up the dragon's body, as if masons had built it from metal sheets. The angles gave the dragon an unfinished look, as if the masons halted construction prior to smoothing the angles into curves. The others noticed the dragon's interest in Euphos, too, and the paladins traded looks.

"Who are you?" the dragon asked, its voice boomy and raspy like wild wind ripping along a chasm.

Euphos trusted the paladins and did not believe they would put him in danger. He responded with confidence, "I am Euphos, hunter from Phasebios. I would ask the same."

With eyes like slits in a helmet, simply voids with no flesh, the dragon stared at the hunter, then spoke. "I am Wruum. Seeker and miracle worker. There is much conflict inside you, Euphos, and you must never stop thinking. You will know very much."

The hunters and paladins stood silent, even the ranking paladin. Euphos took this as a sign to keep talking with the dragon. "We would ask you to give us help. We are attempting to--"

"You are on a quest to save Phracia, yes," the dragon interrupted.

"I don't think we alone can save Phracia. I am here to collect a bounty," Euphos replied.

The dragon stayed silent a long while. Euphos got the feeling that the dragon knew more about the hunters' quest than they did. He did indeed attempt to help Phracia when he hunted. But it would be a stretch to say that the hunts alone would save Phracia.

"I will help you, if you pass my test," Wruum said. "Answer this: Who is to cause the most concern--a rogue in an alley, a guard in a prison, or a starving wanderer?"

Euphos answered without hesitation. "None of these. The politician, the conspirator attempt to limit my observations. They trap my mind in a small window. With the very question itself you've attempted to distract, to hide. You've limited my perception simply because you've given options, sure to omit the options you wish to hide. The common man causes the most concern, because he does not see that politicians, villains do this very thing every day."

Wruum opened his eyes wide. "You are arrogant and suspicious, and you assume to know more than I do." The dragon drew up and inhaled. The hunters and paladins moved backward, eyes wide. Fowbip hopped behind an obsidian slab. But Euphos stood where he was. If the dragon aimed to kill them, they would not be able to escape.

Wruum's chest grew like a sail catching the wind. He brought his maw to the dirt and blew shadowfire. The shadow hit the hunters, and they could not dodge in time. It washed their bodies and touched their spirits but did not hurt them. Wruum kept the shadowfire upon the hunters for what seemed a long while. The paladins regained their own composure when they did not see the hunters evaporate. Wruum finally closed his maw, and black waves still came from his nostrils until he inhaled again and inspected the results.

The shadowfire resembled the waters in dark domains ruled by liches and evil spirits. It rolled like a fast-moving current, tinged with white much like the foam that edged dark waters striking rocks. Euphos checked his body--everything seemed intact. The other hunters did the same. Fowbip peered from his hiding spot, then trotted back to the hunters.

"Mommy, are we thtill alive?" Fowbip asked.

"You are still alive, yes," Wruum replied to all of them. "I have given you specific gifts." Euphos could feel the shadowfire push into his body, into his bones. It revolved around him in lengths and gripped his muscles, until he absorbed its power. 

# Chapter 16

"You are stronger and faster, Euphos. Bronty, you will find spirit-granted power to be amplified with shadow powers. Voyancer will be able to control things that he could not previously, thanks to the shadow. Shebbis's blade will add shadow to its arsenal."

"Then we passed the test, dragon?" Euphos asked.

Wruum brought his eyes to the hunter's. "No, you did not. If you had, I would've killed you." Euphos did not attempt to understand Wruum's logic. Shadow Dragons did not think like most intelligent beings and Euphos could only guess what the right answer could be. Maybe he shouldn't even try-- if the writings about Shadow Dragons could be believed, Wruum could see everything in Euphos's life. Everything he'd done and everything he would ever do. Euphos gripped his blade, to test Wruum's gift. Indeed, it felt to be only a dagger's weight.

The paladins dispatched their spells and Wruum vanished rather quickly. Euphos would have liked to talk to the dragon much longer, but maybe he would get the opportunity again. The ranking paladin described the summoning process. Different Shadow Dragons, even different beings, could be called to this obsidian circle. Different moons and different spells would be required, depending on the being to be called.

The hunters traveled back toward the paladin post, excited about being able to test Wruum's gifts. They came to the creek inside the Wisperium again and Euphos spotted the man tied to wood posts. "Why don't we see why this man is tied up?" Euphos suggested.

"He's tied up because he is being converted into a scissorpeon," the paladin replied. "The waters will gradually transform him into a lunatic, as they carry much scaria."

"Good. We will be doing a good deed, then." The hunters liked Euphos's thinking. Test their powers and save a man in the process. The paladins said the scissorpeons had probably abducted the man from the hills while he worked as a servant. He might even be an aristocrat himself.

They tied their horses to trees a good distance away and slinked toward the creek. Tric floated above, then relayed information to Euphos: there were no scissorpeons close. Euphos stepped quicker than ever, and his body felt much lighter, as if he had just removed a full mail suit. As they came closer, they could see that the man hung from the post, his arms tied above him, submerged up to his chest in the creek waters. His dirty body trapped mud and plants against him, so that scaria blades plagued his skin, and the metal ran in strips around his body.

When the hunters got close the man looked up. His neck and brow were growing blades too and he watched the hunters with a lunatic's grin. "We are going to cut you loose," Euphos said as he nocked an arrow. His first shot severed the man's binds above his head. The man pulled the rope from his wrists and then ran from the creek. He pulled himself to the edge and bolted. Voyancer did a scan and found the man's psyche to be primal, the scaria having corrupted it almost completely. Voyancer then found himself able to follow the lunatic even after the man vanished from sight.

Voyancer was able to keep in touch with the man's psyche, no doubt only because of Wruum's gift. He watched from the lunatic's eyes. The lunatic stumbled into the forest, first bumbling down a hill and then up a hill. When the man came to the second hill top, Voyancer could see the lunatic's destination. At the bottom, scissorpeons milled about a camp. Animal skin tents ringed a fire and though the scissorpeons ate their game raw, the fire would provide light and warmth in the cool forest. Voyancer could see scissorpeons fighting for scraps from the catch. They scratched their backs on the white trunked obeuk trees, and some slept on brush patches wherever they found room.

A man dressed in dark silk robes emerged from a tent--he was not a scissorpeon--and walked to a brush bed where a scissorpeon lay on his back. The reclining subject looked like he had not fully become a scissorpeon yet, and was much like the man the hunters had let loose. His body had not yet become laden with metal. The robed man gave the subject drinks from a cup, then stood close and watched. Voyancer saw metal blades grow where the subject's skin lay bare. The robed man watched the process intently.

More scissorpeons chopped trees and harvested the scaria. They scraped the brush with blades and collected the metal in cans. "What do you see?" Euphos asked Voyancer.

"There is a scissorpeon camp beyond this hill," the psionicist answered. "They are harvesting metal from the trees. A dark physician looks like he is testing the metal's effects on people."

"Is the physician a scissorpeon?" Bronty asked.

"Not that I can tell."

The robed figure probably led the scissorpeons, and looked to be building a scissorpeon army. He possibly sought a way to corrupt whole towns.

"We don't have time to fight. The paladins will have to handle this. We have bigger--" Euphos could not finish, for three scissorpeons lunged at them at once. The paladins' repel-evil spell could not warn the paladins and hunters in time, for the scaria nullified the spell's effects. Euphos jumped back and landed in the creek, underestimating how far his much-stronger legs would take him with Wruum's spell.

Bronty began casting a grapple spell. She called the spirits, and they replied. An obeuk tree came alive and snatched a scissorpeon as it flew at Bronty. Metal growths protected the scissorpeon like a mail suit.

Shebiss pointed his blade at another. Nefarious flame sprayed a scissorpeon, flame black with shadow. The scissorpeon's metal limbs liquefied, but it still came forward. A paladin slashed at the scissorpeon with his long blade and threw the scissorpeon's melting body like slingshot bullets. The metal splattered on a tree and burned into the thick bark. The scissorpeon tumbled to pieces.

Euphos rushed at the closest scissorpeon and punched his long blade into its chest. The scissorpeon didn't even flinch as the blade slid between the scissorpeon's organs, organs hardened with scaria, and Euphos was unable to inflict any wounds. He got a quick look at the scissorpeon up close. The metal kept its multicolored hues even when ingested into the body. It built upon itself much as stalactites do in a cave, and grew into sharp points, many longer than a hand. The scissorpeon smelled like a cult member who hadn't bathed any time recently, and rags hung from its neck and drooped around its body like a gown. Its bladed skin ripped everything to shreds that it came into contact with.

Euphos yanked, and his blade slid from the scissorpeon. It might have remained stuck if he didn't have the extra shadow power boosting his strength. The scissorpeon slashed at Euphos with its arm but Euphos ducked and then got a quick look beyond the creek. Many more scissorpeons bolted toward the hunters. "Let's go!" Euphos yelled as he hacked the scissorpeon's foot from its leg. The scissorpeon hit the dirt.

Euphos and the hunters sprinted to their horses. The tree still gripped Bronty's scissorpeon attacker, and the druid silently thanked Wruum for the boost in power.

"I definitely feel more confident going up against Gutto with these powers," Euphos said. "I just hope that Wruum doesn't come collecting."

"Collecting?" Bronty asked.

"Dragons don't just give people powers like this. There is always a catch."

Voyancer remembered stories about dragons that involved dragons demanding worship in return for power. The dragons would come to collect from their patrons, and if the patrons did not obey the dragons' wishes, they would be in default. No one defaulted on a dragon's loan and lived. Only the gods could default.

\- * -

The mansion walls were built from smooth stone. Pointed windows resembled eyes and made the mansion seem angry. A high wall surrounded the entire property, but within the enclosure the grasses and hedges grew wild, covering the bottom portion of the mansion, with vines reaching up the walls like skeletal digits, attempting to pull the mansion into the hill, into the grave. Everything else still stood pristine, as robbers did not venture into the Noble Hills.

The noble who owned the mansion, Sim Libo, had directed the University of Lectidomes during his life. The university stood as a testament to the power of the mind, and attracted brilliant thinkers from around Repath Aos Vio to study logic, politics, and natural phenomena. Thephobium developed a reputation as home to the study of all things, and everywhere, beings knew that the greatest philosophers of all traveled to its unequaled schools. Sim dedicated his life to make sure the university would always be the home to the intellect, and he worked tirelessly to ensure its curriculum measured up.

The hunters surveyed the property. Shebiss cast a detect-magic spell and found no wards nor traps. Euphos pushed into the dirt with his long blade, careful to scout for tripwires and pit traps. Pressure traps would be triggered with a step, and could be built into the mansion paths, Gutto possibly going to such lengths to protect the mansion. Voyancer probed the estate and found no minds, and Bronty spoke to the spirits but found no hostile forces. The hunters all advised one another, though, that they be exceptionally careful. Powerful magic could hide traps, guards, or even itself. Euphos led the hunters to a window at a chamber on the bottom story, electing to avoid entering the mansion at its main entrance, no doubt the best location to build traps.

Euphos smashed the glass with his blade and sent Tric in to check the chamber. The Tracker flitted around, looking for things that moved, alive or not, then he bounced around the room to find spots in the wood paneling, on the walls, anything that could be a trigger for a projectile trap. The Tracker searched the whole room carefully but found no traps, no odd wood grains, no unusually wide slots, no notable spider webs. The grey sky through the windows lit up just a bit of the room, but Tric's body lit up the rest, and Euphos's eyes went with Tric as the Tracker flitted around. They would need to remove a rug that covered much of the tile, to detect pressure plates.

"Don't touch anything--no desks, statues, tools--or you might just kill us all," Euphos advised, smoothing glass on the sill with his glove. When Euphos lifted himself up to climb into the chamber, a voice entered his mind: Find me, come, to the cellar, help me. The whispery voice sounded pained, as if every syllable caused incredible suffering. Euphos's talisman did not vibrate, so it was not psionics.

"Euphos?" Bronty said, seeing his hesitation.

"There's a spirit here--he just spoke to me. If it's Sim it sounds like he's in a lot of pain." Euphos crawled into the chamber, then lifted the rug with his long blade, shoving it to the side, careful not to bump anything.

Voyancer helped Bronty and Fowbip, then Shebiss climbed up. "It asked us to--" Euphos said, but the voice was pushing into his mind again. _You must, fight it, do not give up, do not bring your blades._ Euphos thought he didn't comprehend the ghost correctly.

Bronty wiped debris from her pants. "Did it talk to you again?"

"Yes?" he answered with a questioning note. "It said that we should disarm?"

"No one will take my blade from me," Shebiss declared, the symbols on his blade shining red like his temper. "I will stay back and watch behind while you find the spirit."

Euphos had to agree that a guard made sense, to prevent ambush, though he hesitated.

Bronty moved to Euphos, whispering, "We should not let Shebiss stay. We don't know he will protect us. I sense he wants to find a way to ditch the quest."

"We've argued this before," Euphos whispered back. "He would never have come if he didn't think we could succeed--why would he suddenly change his mind?"

"He's not here for the reward, Euphos. I watched his ritual, in Lectidomes, communicating with his patron. He is here for power, not money. He wants blood."

"You saying he wants our blood?" Euphos asked with skepticism.

"Guile is the currency of his type--and he's gathered even more power as he's been battling with us, giving his patron blood from our foes."

"Accusations should be said aloud, that I may defend myself from such," Shebiss stated loudly.

Bronty eyed the warlock. "It is who you are," she maintained. "I didn't like bringing you along, but I trust Euphos and Voyancer. I do not trust the company that you keep--it is that simple."

Tric bounded back into the chamber, pulsing as if breathing hard. "We in trouble?" Euphos asked. Tric bounced back and forth. No.

Euphos tailed his Tracker into a hallway where the busts of thinkers and academics stood on display. Etchings on the wood-paneled walls depicted trees, lakes, and hills. Euphos tested the tiles with his blade as the hunters moved through the space. Tric checked the halls carefully as he had the study.

They came to the vestibule. "Tric, can you find the cellar? The voice said to find him there."

Tric moved to the back of the reception area, flitting around the portals to develop a map of the mansion. They found a staircase to the second story built into the wall and covered with the same detailed depictions as the halls. The dark grey woods used for the inside would probably be imported, possibly stained Wisperium woods. The ceiling vaulting resembled the vines growing on the mansion walls, stretching atop columns high above. Desks and tables built from equally valuable woods stood along the sides, with relief etchings on the walls, much as in the hallways and stairs.

Tric flitted back into the vestibule to find Euphos inspecting the architecture for traps. Tric led the hunters to the back of the vestibule, to a main chamber filled with fine furniture, papered walls, and more busts. High windows allowed some light in, but the hunters needed more. Voyancer found an oil lamp on a desk and spoke with Euphos to make sure he wouldn't be triggering a trap. He lit it to find they were in a music chamber, with wide glass windows and chandeliers of fine crystal. Various tomes sat open on stands, with shelves of book collections stocked high, and a ladder to access the highest shelves. Bronty found a lute and a violin, but she was careful not to curiously pluck the strings.

"Mommy, can I have thith?" Fowbip asked as he sniffed the violin.

"No. Hush. We can talk more when we get outside," Bronty replied.

Gutto would no doubt be protecting Sim's spirit from being rescued, obviously finding sadistic pleasure in trapping the noble in the house. Sim would be the one to talk to, if indeed he had spoken to Euphos. Tric flitted to Euphos, bouncing like a wave.

Euphos tailed the Tracker to the back of the mansion, to a hallway with several chambers along its length. At the back of the hall, Tric flitted into a closet with stairs winding to the bottom of the house. "Did you check the cellar?" Euphos asked and Tric answered yes with a wobble. "Is there a guard?" Tric shook no. Tric carefully floated into the cellar, just to the bottom of the stairs, where Euphos could see a puddle glinting dull red. He checked the staircase steps with his blade as he descended into the cellar.

Three steps in, his pulse pounded when he saw what Tric floated above. No puddle. A blood pool congealed, with red cracks as bright as hot magma. The pool filled the cellar, as much as Euphos could see from above.

Bronty and Voyancer appeared at the top of the stairs. "Euphos, it talked to me--he did!" Bronty gasped. "He begged me to disarm--we will be our own worst enemies, he said."

Euphos believed in his guts that Sim did indeed speak to the hunters. But he had not survived a monster-hunting career with gut feelings alone. He needed assurance that the one who spoke would not be leading the hunters into a trap. There must be a way. _Never go in the easiest way,_ Euphos spoke inwardly, reciting the creed he stuck to, a creed that had saved his life many times.

Euphos led the hunters to a window at the back of the hallway, with Tric, and smashed the panes with the pommel of his long blade and climbed onto a grassy hill. He helped Bronty, Voyancer, and Fowbip climb to the hill.

"The cellar is right here, behind this wall," he said. "I want to get a glimpse inside, from right here. Bronty, can you destroy this stone?"

Bronty grabbed her staff, then summoned warmth from the earth, causing a patch on the stone to turn hot, with flames popping to life as more warmth circled from her staff to the wall, still empowered with shadow. Bronty's skull mask did not assist her in her efforts to draw warmth, for it served to empower her control over spirits that would help her to inflict injury, but she would need to keep the mask in case they encountered hostile forces on their quest to find the spirits. Voyancer increased his density, to crush the wall with a punch. Molten rock flew into the cellar, and a gap in the wall allowed Euphos and Tric to get a better view.

Euphos saw the same red mass on the bottom of the cellar, and Tric believed it to be blood. Euphos stuck a long stick into the mass, sinking it several feet until it touched bottom. He pulled the stick out and found the liquid to be blood indeed.

"Pray to the gods, a pool of blood several feet thick fills the cellar," Euphos told them as Tric roamed around the cellar, lighting up the pool. Euphos could see wood studs and stone walls as Tric flitted above the pool, but still no spirit. "Let's drain it, then?"

Bronty cast her burn spell again, this time on a much bigger piece of the wall. The rock wall bulged where the weight of the blood pool pushed on its bottom--trickling blood pushed from cracks and drew lines on the wall as it followed the mortar grooves. Euphos hit the wall with his long blade and it cracked, and blood gushed onto the hill, covering the black grass. The hunters made a second hole in the wall to speed up the draining. As the blood drained, the rotting skeletal remains of several people appeared, as tides reveal the shells of sea creatures. Euphos heard Sim again. _It is safe, come, hurry._ This would be risky, but he knew that there would always be risks.

As the hunters moved into the cellar they found many skeletons, with hammers and the blades of axes lodged among the bones. The blood was still inches thick, but the hunters slogged into the cellar, and Euphos unsheathed his long blade, hoping to avoid fighting. The blood would make balancing difficult.

"Fowbip!" Bronty chastised the seever as he rolled around in the blood like a pig in mud. The hunters stepped silently and cautiously, careful to check every crevice, their pulses pounding in anticipation of battle. Fowbip built up speed, then stiffened his legs, sliding on the blood until he smashed into a shelf and knocked tools and the shelf itself from the wall, spattering blood in every direction. The rumble of clanking metal and wood filled the chamber, only getting louder as Fowbip attempted to dodge the debris, kicking it against the wall many more times with his feet. The hunters paused.

"Fowbip is a consummate professional, as always," Euphos stated.

Sim spoke, this time aloud. "Come, quick, at the wall, the chains." He sounded much the same as he had in Euphos's mind, but he seemed to have gained strength, and his speech was more robust. The hunters found him chained to the wall with ghosydium shackles, his spirit locked in the cellar of his mansion, forever. A ghosydium-plated dagger sat on a table just beyond his reach.

Without Tric, the entire cellar would have been pitch black to them. Sim's ghost could not adjust to the light, and he kept his hands on his eyes. The hunters stood silent several moments, enthralled with the ghost's bluish-grey skin. "The blood," his voice continued, "caused any who came to it to become suicidal, to thrust their own daggers into their hearts. Gutto filled the cellar with the blood of lunatics, even affecting the undead."

Euphos understood. Gutto put a dagger just beyond Sim's grasp, then filled Sim with suicidal desires that would never be satisfied, while keeping the noble's ghost chained to the wall. Gutto's pride was in his ingenious torture methods, and sadism.

"We could be here to rob you--why would you speak to us?" Bronty asked.

"If you are here to take from me, then do. The blood protected me like a shield. If you are here to kill me, then do. I can't stop you. The dagger is here."

"We are not going to kill you. We wish to rescue you. I demand payment with answers to three questions," Euphos proposed. "Why did Gutto trap you here?"

"In my life, I presided at the University of Lectidomes as director. Lately the university has been, infiltrated, if you will. The Cult of Revolution--their professors have taken the school, teaching that Phracia's history is shameful. They bend the minds of the students, the principles of liberty, and denigrate the righteous. I cleansed the school of their type, then found Gutto and his undead here. They robbed me of my life, because I resisted the cult, and trapped me here, maybe forever. Gutto is related to the cult in some way, I do not know. I believe that he wishes to destroy Phracia, to remake it to his liking, with corruption as the guiding principle."

The three other nobles that Gutto had killed and imprisoned would probably tell much the same story as Sim. The cult employed Gutto as a strongman to enforce their will. Both the Rat King and Gutto the Shiner seemed to have a hand in attempting to destroy Phracia.

"Gutto reanimated your body along with three others and summoned wenzekai to possess it," Euphos continued. "The three are powerful men in their respective fields, like you. Et Biss, Prikto Ine, and Apis Ekkes. Do you know these men?"

"I have heard of all three, because I stay up on politics, but they are not my personal friends. They could have resisted Gutto like I did. Gutto probably desires to establish his own minions in their positions . . . it could be many things."

"If we set you free from your chains, will you battle the wenzekai, to take your body back? We are here to defeat Gutto, and we will not be able to as long as the wenzekai guard," Euphos said, poised with his blade to slash Sim's shackles.

Sim lifted his eyes to Euphos and greeted the hunter with an anticipating smile.

The hunters released Sim from his prison, then found the spirits of Et Biss and Prikto Ine in much the same predicament, chained to cellar walls in their own mansions.

The hunters had drained the pools of blood from the other cellars, using the same techniques. Et Biss had commanded a vast military regiment in Phines, the state with the most powerful land forces in Phracia. Much as at the University of Lectidomes, he saw the upper ranks filled with men sympathetic to the cult, and they did everything they could to make joining the military of Phines difficult. They attempted to turn the soldiers' minds against Phracia, touting the military victories of Phracia as unwarranted aggressions and attempted genocides. The men became disillusioned with their duty to protect Phracia and many deserted.

True, Bas did advise that the military should not seek to impose the spirit of Phracia upon every country across Repath Aos Vio, but the cult taught that no military action could ever be justified, and the only way to atone for Phracia's sins would be to abandon all aggression, even if it meant Phracia would be attacked. Et Biss agreed to assist the hunters with the wenzekai.

Prikto Ine had served Bas as the high cleric in Trobia. He controlled the temple's clergy, guiding the clerics on Bas's many works and seeing that they taught the god's principles--liberty and protections from abuse. But as newer clergy arrived, they filled the temple ranks and bent the teachings. They taught that liberty could only be achieved when better men controlled the lives of the people, allowing the people to escape the burdens and pains that came with self-responsibility. Prikto attempted to cleanse the temple when Gutto arrived.

The hunters and their new fellows traveled back to the paladins' post inside the hills to sleep. The three spirits would join the hunters when they traveled to Gutto's keep to find the fourth spirit, Apis Ekkes, the Count of Phuse. The plan was to wait until Gutto and the wenzekai traveled around the hills to inspect their kingdom. The hunters did not know what they would find in the keep, but they hoped to release Apis's spirit, then pursue the wenzakai.

The hunters had to wait three days. Gutto and his guard surveyed the domain often, so the hunters would have to draw a path that would touch the Wisperium if they were to avoid contact with the locals. More homes were built close to Gutto's keep, for people who would depend on the Count of Phuse for protection. With Gutto watching the hills, the same people would become subject to the abuse of the sadistic servant of Magno.

Euphos hoped that Gutto did not know about the hunters saving the three spirits, but it was possible that he did. Shebiss and Bronty were not able to detect the magic Gutto employed to enchant the blood that guarded the spirits, and it could be that Gutto already knew their plan, that they were coming for the Count of Phuse.

They could attempt an attack with just three spirits, but the remaining wenzekai, along with Gutto, would be powerful enough to defend against the hunters and the spirits. They would need to tie up every wenzekai, and then the spirits would have to be able to cast the demons from the guards if they were to defeat Gutto.

The hunters and three paladins rode west to the Wisperium and moved toward Gutto's keep. Clouds transformed the light of the suns into grey, and the trees of the Wisperium transformed that grey into white. The hunters thanked Fyn that they did not encounter any undead, though they traveled in daylight in hopes of avoiding them. Undead preferred the night, for cover, and because the spirits of Phracia transformed at night, becoming more attuned to violence and bloodshed. Euphos often hunted at night, too, but found that hunting during daylight could be more productive, when undead seemed to be resting, saving their strength for the night's hunt.

The hunters would be attempting to enter Gutto's keep while not knowing any details about the inhabitants, but then again, that's why Euphos did everything he could to study undead and their like. The hills became more populated as the hunters rode closer. More houses, shops. The hunters, careful to stay in the wood cover, saw people moving around the hills, tugging carts and tending to their flocks. The people would be alive within Gutto's domain, the paladins explained. He transformed his subjects' minds with evil magic.

Euphos could not see details, but watching the people work, he saw that they didn't move right. Their gaits were pained, like those of undead, and the people worked more like contraptions, their movements stiff and mechanical. Euphos watched a man constructing a house, moving like a mule to shift rocks to make a wall, as if at any moment his master's whip would rip into his back. He seemed afraid to take a moment's rest. The hunters sped up.

They came to Gutto's keep high in the forest. Euphos counted at least three levels, with the keep's footprint bigger than the paladin's main fort on the hills' periphery. Dormers dotted the roof. Grey stone walls surrounded the keep, and sharp turrets and bartizans protruded. A parapet on the roof would allow the hunters a good spot to enter. A wall not a lot higher than the hunters' horses circled the keep, but the hunters saw no guards. Wards alone protected the keep, and the hunters had asked Aos's paladins Resire, Tat, and Dang, to come along to help get the hunters into the keep. The elf, dwarf, and gnome, respectively, cast a detect-ward spell and found a ward against those who would harm Gutto or his servants.

"We're going to get you in right here," Resire said as he put his slender elf hand to the sky. Blue light swirled around Resire, then dark blue as he touched the ward field. The blue extended from Resire's hand, engulfing the invisible ward as it ripped a hole big enough to walk into.

Dang put his muscular hands together and concentrated. A ball of metal covered his fist.

Tat explained. "Dang obscured any magic detection that would alert Gutto to the breach, but you must hurry." Tat motioned to the hunters to get behind the ward.

"We will be waiting at the Wisperium edge," Resire said as the hunters moved into the gap and headed to the wall. "We will contact you if Gutto returns. Make haste, you have Aos's protection!"

Tric floated above the wall and high, dimming to his minimum and blending into the grey. He saw no guards in the interior and quickly came back to the hunters to report. The hunters moved to the back wall of the keep. They would need a way to get up high.

"The best way to get into a keep is from the roof," Euphos explained. "You avoid traps, guards, and detection if you're careful. Can you get us up there, Bronty?"

"I've got a vine spell that could get us there," Bronty said, "but we'd have to get inside this wall. Wouldn't work from here . . ." Her thoughts went to Shebiss. She hated to have to appeal to Shebiss, but she figured it would be the best. "Shebiss, you can teleport, as you did with the battle in the arena. Can you get us there?"

"I would need to take us and the rat," Shebiss said. "In order for me to cast such a spell I will need time to appeal to my patron. Is this what you wish to do?"

Bronty felt a sting when Shebiss referred to Fowbip as a rat. But when she found Fowbip scraping his teeth on the stone wall and scratching his back with a claw, well, she understood why.

Euphos gave Bronty a questioning glare. "It's the only way that I see," she answered.

They agreed that it would be best. Shebiss drew a circle with his long blade in the dirt. He drew symbols inside, with more in its circumference. He knelt on the circle and recited petitions that the hunters could not comprehend. His eyes flashed black and his blade shone until it lit the entire circle, and the symbols then burned red as Shebiss recited phrases from his pact with the Lord of the Seven Hatreds. A rain came from above, and the hunters pulled their cloaks tighter, but as they stood, they watched the rain become blood, pooling around their feet and filling the grooves of Shebiss's circle like water filling streams. It looked like the hunters bled much like their prey.

"Gather in the circle," Shebiss said. Euphos grabbed Fowbip and stepped inside with Bronty. A wall of black surrounded the hunters, blocking all vision beyond the circle. Several moments passed, then the black wall dispersed and the hunters were on the roof of the keep, viewing the Wisperium from high above.

Euphos spotted cheich soaring above the trees, hunting from the sky. The forest canopy resembled a snowy valley beyond the slopes of a peak, spreading wide and rolling along with the curves of the hills. They would need to get in fast or risk getting spotted. Voyancer floated to the top of the keep while Euphos searched to find the best point to enter. A dormer on the roof would do. He pulled a length of rope from a pouch and tied it to an iron weather vane, then rappelled to the dormer. He punched a rod into the window to form a hole, and Tric flitted inside the room to perform his search. He reported the room to be clear. 

# Chapter 17

Euphos climbed back to the top and instructed Bronty and Shebiss. "Put the rope between your legs, one hand behind your back, one here. The roof is not steep, but be careful." Euphos climbed to the dormer again to quietly break the window and slide its pieces onto the roof so as not to alarm any inside the keep. He eyed the chamber--a bed, desks and lampstands, everything ornate. He shoved the rest of the rope length into the window and climbed in, rappelling in from the high window. He yanked the rope to let the hunters know to come, too. Bronty came first, and Euphos grabbed her as she came in, then Voyancer, Shebiss, and Fowbip.

"I'm not getting any contact from the spirit," Euphos reported as he stood silent a moment to allow the spirit time to detect the hunters. The spirits had contacted them immediately during the other three rescue missions, but the hunters got no such contact here. In addition, Aos's paladins reported that Gutto allowed Apis Ekkes's spirit to roam the keep's halls, which would make it more difficult to locate the spirit. If the hunters' suspicions were right, the stitched horror did this on purpose as he showed a taste for torture. They could only guess what this torturous scheme would entail.

Euphos lifted a rug and checked the chamber for trap triggers while Bronty and Shebiss cast detect-hostile-spirits-and-magic spells. "The keep is full of spiritual conflict--it's everywhere," Bronty whispered. Shebiss detected no magic traps in the chamber. Tric flitted along the walls and Euphos cleared the room with a trap check. Portraits and frescoes on the walls were most likely those of nobles and the count's family, and there was a wash basin, a stove, and firewood. Could be the count's chamber, but they would have to find the count's spirit, and he could be anywhere. Tric inspected the long hallway that the chamber opened onto and reported no occupants.

"Walk where they don't want you to walk, avoid the centers of hallways and rooms, and that could save you," Euphos instructed. The hunters entered the hallway where brass candelabras sat on tables and rich blue-green paint covered the walls reaching up to high ceilings. They stayed at the edges of the rug, never stepping onto it.

They checked several chambers along the hallway, having Tric squeeze into the chambers whenever possible to avoid alerting any inside. Voyancer did a mental search and found a mind two chambers ahead on their right. _Euphos, there is a person in this chamber,_ Voyancer said in a mental communication.

Tric hummed into the chamber, returning with an affirmative. "Man, woman?" Euphos asked, and Tric nodded at "woman." "She a threat?" Tric bounded side to side.

The hunters pushed quietly into the chamber. It had a high ceiling, art, detailed woodworking on the chairs, and stands for books and busts, very much like the chambers they had seen, save one detail: a woman dressed in white slept on her back on a bed. The massive bed shone white in its linens and white wood frame, lit up from the sunlight through a high window. Most of the room was uncluttered with furniture, but the hunters could see a shadow on the wall, made from the suns' rays against a hanging statue. The shadow resembled a man kneeling, with hands on his eyes, either praying or sobbing. Bronty felt a dire portent rise, a feeling that their quest would unravel at any second. She gripped her staff tighter and walked toward the woman.

"Euphos, who do you think she is?" Bronty asked. Euphos joined Bronty at the bed, then regretted ever asking the question as they gazed at the woman in white with long, black hair who did not wake. Euphos felt a figure in his mind, like an assassin lurking in the shadows. Then he collapsed, unconscious.

The hunters heard the thump and Bronty bent to wake Euphos, but he didn't respond. They lifted him to his feet, but they couldn't get the hunter to come to. "I am not going one more step with this group until you tell me why this happened," Shebiss demanded.

"Euphos has a condition that can't be cured--fainting," Bronty answered.

"Why did you not tell me that when you approached me?" he demanded. "I would have refused to join a bounty group when its leader should be in a ward. I believe it is time for me to--"

"I'm glad to see you," boomed the voice of Baobuc, flitting above. "It's been almost an hour since I tortured and killed, and it is disturbing me." The hunters put Euphos on the bed and drew their weapons. Baobuc transformed into a shadow, then leapt into the shadows on the walls.

Euphos dreamed. He walked into a dark alley where above him shadows moved on the walls of buildings. A woman appeared from a street, a woman with dark hair, and she reminded Euphos of . . . Pressia. Euphos opened his eyes to find a woman with dark hair at his side. He heard shouts around him, clanging metal, but the woman filled his mind. Dark eyes and lashes. Pressia.

Euphos remembered her--he remembered her perfume, every curve--her jaw, her hips. Everything. But the longer he stared at Pressia, the more details fell away. Her nose was shorter than he remembered, stronger, her eyes smaller, and her mouth wider. Her hips weren't round as much as angular. Her skin was tighter, slightly, and her perfume was from bottles, not flowers.

He stared at the woman a long time, until he finally added up all the variations and knew that the woman he lay beside could not be her. Euphos felt the dream wash everything from his mind, but he saw a shape above him on the wall, a shadow moving. The shadow became red as it leapt from the wall, becoming a demon, with a blade aimed at Euphos's heart. Euphos's battle sense responded, filling his blood with the urge to dodge, but the dream lingered. The woman beside him filled his spirit and body with a more beautiful utopian vision than any he had seen, anywhere in all the gods' domains. The blade would kill Euphos, but the dream could not be stopped and the bliss could not be abandoned.

The dream morphed into worry. Pressia--she lay with Euphos. No, this woman could not be her. Would she stay when she awoke? Would she stay with the hunter, forever? He could not keep her against her will, but he knew he would if she attempted to go. No, he could not imprison her.

He would never be able to control Pressia, to keep her like a possession. The dream morphed into fear when he came to this conclusion. He would never own her, and this caused all the bliss to become fear and suffering and hate. He hated her, and thoughts of life with her anywhere but with him tortured the hunter. The blade that would kill the hunter in moments, the demon's blade that would puncture his heart--that blade did not frighten the hunter. Pressia--her body and her smile, everything, all the details that one could garner about her, they frightened Euphos more, as they hung like assassins above him, on rooftops, filling his body and spirit with pain, and pain's anticipation.

Euphos would have died in the bed, inside Gutto's keep, but Voyancer intervened and grabbed Euphos's feet and pulled. Baobuc's blade ripped into the bedding, feathers exploding from the impact. Euphos woke at the jolt, but he remained languid at the foot of the bed and would need time to recover.

Baobuc bounded back into the shadows and into the hallway, giving the hunters a moment's respite. Bronty rushed to Euphos's side, careful not to say a word about the woman who lay on the bed.

Fowbip rushed to the hunters, too. "Daddy, there'th a ghotht here."

They put their attention on the hallway portal, and a spirit moved into the chamber, floating toward the hunters with a worried expression. The spirit moved slowly, with its gaze fixed ahead. It seemed to skip the hunters entirely, wandering around the chamber much like Fowbip might, but without the enthusiastic spittle hanging from the mouth. The hunters watched the spirit as he floated around the chamber, hoping that he would avoid the woman, hoping he would not remind Euphos that she slept close to him.

"Apis Ekkes," Voyancer addressed the spirit, not as a question.

The spirit at first did not seem to hear the psionicist, responding to the beckon like a man asleep being called to wake. When the spirit "awoke" he stared at the hunters for a moment. His eyes moved to Euphos with great interest and empathy. "Who is he?" the spirit asked. He floated to the hunters, staring at Euphos intently. "Who is this man?"

Still affected with the dream, the bliss and the sorrow, Euphos awoke much as had the spirit. "You know, don't you?" he said to Euphos, still dazed on the bed. "You know what I feel." Spirits could sense kindred spirits, could feel their spiritual character, even spirits still attached to the living. People, beings in general, could naturally sense spiritual character, quickly, with their own spirits.

Euphos came to and immediately saw the spirit studying his. "Count," Euphos muttered. "Are you Apis Ekkes? We are looking for you. We need you to defeat Gutto."

Apis floated near, still studying Euphos intently. "Brother?" the spirit asked.

"I am a lone child, count."

"No, you are my brother. You are just like me, or maybe . . ." The spirit looked bewildered as he gazed at Euphos. "Maybe even father, or are you Aos? I can sense terrible things in you." He touched Euphos's spirit with his. "Aos, are you here to take me?"

"I don't see why you would think I am Aos, I am a man--"

"There is such a great wound in you, I feel it like an ocean to my stream. You are the god of sorrow . . . you must take me from here, for I am only your humble servant."

"It is time that I absolve myself of this drastic mistake," Shebiss said, and walked out to the hall.

Voyancer began to call to Shebiss to come back, but Bronty put her hand on Voyancer's arm. "Let him," she said. "He is not here to assist us--he is here to gather a flock, to build his own power. He is not committed to his patron." Shebiss made his way down the hall toward the vestibule.

"We need you to take your body back," Euphos said as he roused himself. "Gutto killed you and reanimated your corpse. He has beings, wenzekai, animating the body, and he uses them as guards. They are very powerful." Euphos stood, drawing his blade. "We are going to kill Gutto."

A black-feathered bird, a veow, with a long beak and white chest feathers, squawked as it flew into the chamber to perch on the statue hanging from the ceiling. "Gutto is here," it said. The paladins employed the veows as couriers unique to Aos's worshipers, given to his flock to represent their god's domain, as a harbinger, a dark portent.

"You asked to be taken from here," Euphos said, turning back to the ghost. "Are you being held?" Apis did not respond for a moment.

"Yes," he said then. "Gutto has cast a spell. It chains me here, to this keep." The spirit seemed to come to his senses, to have taken Euphos's plea to heart.

"Fight with us, and we will kill Gutto--we will destroy your shackles."

Apis did not answer. He pivoted to look up at the sunlight through the window. The hunters stood for a long moment and waited. A sound came then, of smashing wood, then metal on metal, from the hall.

"It's time," Euphos said. "The nobles' spirits will be here." Gutto had returned, and the paladins would send the spirits.

"We can't wait for Apis--we have to fight." They had not expected Gutto to come back to the keep this early. His roaming visits to his kingdom should have kept him the entire day. Baobuc might have communicated to Gutto, and he knew that the hunters were here. They moved back into the hall and headed toward the sounds. Shebiss might have run into some unwelcome company as he fled the keep.

"We only have three spirits. That means there will be one--" Bronty could not finish. Apis had interrupted.

"I will fight on one condition. Your blade--it is ghosydium. Promise me this, that you will slay me if I help you."

Surprised to see the spirit, the hunters had gone into fighting positions. "Apis, your spirit will be erased if I do that," Euphos explained. "The only way you'll ever come back is to have a representative petition the gods for you, or have the gods bring you back of their own volition."

"Yes, but you do not understand. My soul is the property of the Shadow Casters, a cadre of fiends that rule the Burning Temples. Dragons captured Pursila, my wife, and the Shadow Casters promised me power beyond power to rescue her. I rescued her, then suffered defeat when Gutto arrived. The Shadow Casters have come, but they are prevented from entering the keep. I can never leave, but am to be trapped here, with Pursila, forever . . ."

With Magno's help, Gutto had granted Pursila immortality, and with Apis trapped inside the keep there would be no way the count could ever be able to touch his beloved.

"I do not believe his request is unreasonable," Voyancer opined.

Euphos had eliminated many spirits in his time as a bounty hunter, but he did it because they became aggressive, malevolent, and were haunting towns, deliberately causing terror, for they were corrupted in their very being. Euphos would not kill Apis, but he would promise to.

"Then I will do it, Apis," Euphos said, and just in time. Prikto Ine, Et Biss, and Sim Libo had come from behind, surrounding Apis and the hunters.

Apis Ekkes was from Hsulous, Phracia's northernmost state, which had elected him count governor, and he had proved his worth, ridding the state of countless corrupt politicians and lawmakers who disguised their schemes with benevolence. These politicians would craft laws ostensibly to help the people, to protect people's emotions, drafting anti-hate laws to protect people from aggression. But the politicians then wielded the laws to imprison any who criticized the regime.

Merchants suffered when the lawmakers demanded they give their profits to the state, to support those in need. The lawmakers asserted that uncooperative merchants were guilty and used the same anti-hate laws to destroy trade. "Hateful" merchants refused to help their brethren, the lawmakers asserted. Soon the prosperous state suffered depression, the merchants left, and the entire state became filled with those in need. The lawmakers used the crisis to seize lands, to repurpose them, much as was being done in the current developments in Lectidomes.

The Cult of Revolution tore into Phracia like a rogue's dagger. Like a rogue it befriended the people, and then when in a trusted position sank the treacherous blade into their backs. The cult promised utopia but gave the people only hardship as it destroyed traditions that kept life stable. Gutto found Apis and quickly slew the count. The more Euphos thought about it, the more it seemed Gutto must be a piece, a gear in a much bigger machine--a machine that sought to destroy all Phracia, to rip its defenses asunder. Everywhere the hunters went, it seemed chaos rose, from the Hemia Forest to Phasebios. Whether it was the cult or some local power, there would be a force or forces working to increase chaos, and the people seemed to be completely unaware, save individuals who feared to speak.

The hunters moved into the hallway, toward the clashing sounds. As they neared the sounds, they came to a staircase that wound to the first mansion level. Gutto would be in the keep, and the hunters were lucky the paladins could give several minutes' advance warning.

The hunters crept to the staircase, with Tric circling around to find traps--and finding one they skirted. At the steps on the second level Tric found a false step, able to detect it because the round stair edge did not match the square stair edges. The step would depress like a murder hole hatch, and the person would be impaled on spikes or meet a like device. Tric pulsed bright and stayed at the step, and Euphos let the hunters know. Step traps would often be a noble's favorite method to kill rivals.

The hunters found the bottom level of the building. Gutto would arrive any minute. Suddenly, a massive blast rocked the vestibule, ripping chandeliers from the ceiling, and wood debris blew into the wide chamber like snow in a storm. Shebiss stood near the main portal, and a red translucent shield surrounded his body, like segmented armor. Gutto and the wenzekai stood before the warlock, Gutto's armor and skin grey with graveyard dust, as the stitched horror and his guards had just returned from ravaging a local cemetery. Gutto and his minions did everything they could to destroy the history of the people from the Noble Hills. This would allow the anti-paladin to remake its history to his liking. The wenzekai moved to protect Gutto, drawing sabers, and Shebiss's shadow-infused fireball did little to hurt the wenzekai. Gutto laughed.

"Hello. Welcome to my home. I didn't invite you, but don't worry--I'm glad that you're here." Gutto put his palms together like a gracious host. "May I ask who you are?"

Euphos stepped forward. "We are hunters, and we are here to paint Apis Ekkes's home with your blood. You are utter filth, and your plot to destroy my home, Phracia, will not succeed." Euphos did not acknowledge that Gutto owned the home.

"I would tell you that you are too late, as you probably know. Phracia will be remade, wonderfully remade. Phracia's true king will rule forever, while I get busy wrecking everything Phracia is. You should see what I've done with the hills here. Today I pulled a man's esophagus from his throat and ripped it in two. He is able to pour ale directly into his stomach--this is why he is grateful. The hills are just the prototype."

Phracia's true king? Gutto confirmed much the hunters believed, and this "true king" could be the force that the hunters sought, attempting to destroy Phracia. Euphos nocked an arrow, cursing again the day that he had destroyed the Jecta. He could have even killed the wenzekai with the shafts.

"Everything that you say is good we say is bad," Gutto explained. "Like killing. You say it is bad, but we love it. Torture, deceit, robbery, all good things. Politicians who listen to the people? We would kill every one. Good is sadism, good is worrying about your king taking your wife, good is chaos, good is having your arms crushed while your betters force you to build their shoes. Liberty is evil, for it allows people to rise. We must have people in perpetual lack, make it hard to be productive. We will crush any who would say 'I will build my own way' and reward any who would be lazy, who would blame their lot on the productive. Bad is one man, one woman, good is every man, every woman. Phracia will be this way, for it is destiny, and all that is good will be bad, and all that is bad will be good."

Euphos checked to make sure the spirits would attack when he did. Bronty updated her skeletal mask with sockets, teeth, and bone ridges to increase her lethality. Euphos fired, and the arrow flew faster than ever, its speed boosted with Wruum's gift. It struck Gutto in the neck.

Gutto calmly pulled the arrow from his neck and drew his long blade. The spirits floated straight at the wenzekai, to find their mortal forms and to retake their rightful property. Sim pushed into the wenzekai and found occupying his own body to be like walking into a thorn bush, and he was still unable to take back control of it. The wenzekai held palms up and cast a psychic net, using their persuasive powers to corrupt the hunters' morals. The spirits could not thwart the wenzekai powers.

Euphos felt his mind--more his feelings--morph. His desire to set things right, to see people be respectful, became a desire to dominate and take, to abuse. Empathy became malice, and he mused over why he had ever wished Phracia to right itself. The quest to defeat Gutto became a quest to possess ghosydium, and his desire to protect his party became a desire to destroy. His feelings morphed again as he thought about Phracia, the chaos that had arisen, and dismissed it. As long as people survived, why should they live a specific way? As long as life of some kind survived, did it matter that people would? Why did survival matter? People should do as they see fit, behave as their impulses dictated.

Bronty questioned her devotion to life, to the spirits. Wouldn't chaos be more exciting? Roaming around, with no responsibility, doing as she wished at any moment. Death could strike any moment, roving mobs might attack, but this would be exhilarating. Everyday living and its doldrums would become wild raids and anarchy. Law and order are barriers to liberty, she realized, and visceral pleasures. Why ever take a husband or wife? Why shouldn't people just let their impulses guide all their romantic desires? The love between a man and woman is disposable, as it should be, because it prevents freedom, excludes people from enjoying love and physical joy. The people who advocate monogamy are prudes and would prevent her wishes.

Voyancer could not resist the wenzekai magic, either. His desires to bring order, to inform and to employ logic and wisdom to all matters, became destructive impulses. Irrelevant values like hard work and thrift should be replaced, no, completely abandoned. Holidays, temples, even the gods should be burned, as they separate, and give a people a distinct character that divides a people group from the masses. Bas's Keys to Empire should be ignored: the right to self-defense, to possess powerful arms, that Bas stated as liberty's bedrock, should be removed. The regimes that rule the planet should be able to do as they wish with the people, and though corrupt regimes killed vast numbers, it was fully justified, and the people should thank their slavers that they were allowed to exist at all.

The spirits wrestled with the wenzekai to retake control. Apis gained purchase and was able to attach his spirit to the body. He could feel again with sinew that he possessed--his own. But pain wracked him. Reattaching his spirit to the body allowed the spirit to feel the wenzekai's oppressive force. Apis battled the evil clutches as they attempted to sever his spirit from the body again. The wenzekai cast a magic black barrier to protect the brain and muscles. Apis's hatred rose, his malice. Gutto destroyed everything Apis had worked for, trapped Apis, and forced the spirit to move through the halls, his halls, never able to touch his beloved.

Apis's hatred burned the wenzekai's barrier. The wenzekai possessed no hate, as hate arose only when a person suffered a wrong. Instead, urges motivated the wenzekai--urges to kill, to manipulate, to corrupt. Apis's righteous fury torched the wenzekai barrier, ripped the demonic force's grasp from his body, and the spirit repossessed his property.

Gutto lunged at Shebiss with a slashing arc, but the warlock blocked with his long blade, the impact pounding into a wall, though his magic shield saved his life. Euphos regained control as Sim evicted the wenzekai from the body. Gutto kicked Shebiss and the warlock smashed up against the wall, concussing his skull.

Euphos put an arrow into Gutto's skull, the shaft penetrating temple to temple. Then he drew his long blade and slashed at Gutto, who raised his own blade to block at the last moment. Euphos's swing hit hard, his shadow-powered strength surprising his foe.

The clang from clashing blades distracted the wenzekai and Sim, Et, and Prikto pushed inward as they battled to retake their bodies. Fowbip appeared at Euphos's feet, then bolted up to Gutto. He circled Gutto's feet like a figure eight, drawing the anti-paladin's wrath. Gutto stomped, hoping to crush Fowbip, then blocked as Euphos slashed again, keeping up the blocking while he attempted to crush Fowbip.

Stuck in mental limbo, Bronty's and Voyancer's minds were still being manipulated, so they could not decide whether to fight or flee. But the spirits made progress, allowing the hunters to regain most of their moral sensibilities, although the wenzekai still grasped their thoughts.

Shebiss opened his eyes, wobbling on his feet. He spotted a tall mirror on the main vestibule wall, one with a meticulously styled metal frame: loops looped within loops, like sophisticated fabric, the symmetrical design like two reflections put together. Warlocks wielded mirrors to cast special spells, as they had a special relationship with reflective items. Mirrors cast reflections, perfectly reversed, much the way warlocks viewed life. They viewed emotions, relationships, community, and like bonds to be distractions from the quest for power. The warlocks' pure will to power demanded they put aside everything that would complicate the quest, anything that might serve to destroy their focus. Peoples everywhere wasted time and energy and were made vulnerable when they felt emotion. Shebiss estimated that the mirror measured six feet in length. Perfect for summoning the most powerful demons.

He closed his eyes and pictured the domain of the Lord of the Seven Hatreds, his keep. Xidack bred terrible fiends, raving lunatics addicted to murder, employing them to roam the wilds, to hunt the witches in the forest. Xidack built his keep in the Mercy Sisters' domain, a territory where witches ruled. The witches conquered aboriginals, an advanced society with rich traditions, and simply slaughtered the men, destroyed all law, and refused to prosecute anybody. Xidack praised the witches as the territory became a wild anarchy, the resulting chaos providing infinite satisfaction to the king.

Shebiss had traveled the forests to prove his worth to Xidack, to gain the king's power as a servant, and to establish his own power as a warlock. He pictured the fiends that roamed, in particular a saddle skite, a predator with a bulbous back, slithering like a reptile. It shocked its prey with paralyzing force, using its massive teeth to snap bones and armor.

The warlock gripped his blade, reciting more damning oaths, then asked Xidack to send a saddle skite to the keep. Black powers spilled from the blade, from its symbols, and drew veins that moved, seeking like pack hunters to grip the mirror. They found the mirror and pooled within its frame until the mirror became a portal, a magic gate between Gutto's keep and the Mercy Sisters' witching forest.

A fiery whirl formed on the mirror as Shebiss came into contact with his patron. A saddle skite pushed its jaw from the mirror, meeting resistance as if burrowing into the dirt. The predator's lips pulled back as its jagged toothy jaws became more visible, until the saddle skite made it into the keep. It moved toward Gutto, sliding on the white tile, its black body glistening with a slime that resulted from the magic transfer.

Gutto battled with Euphos, matching block to strike.

"Fowbip, go back to Mom!" Euphos yelled as he slashed upward, then swept Gutto's foot. The stitched horror pressed his palm to the sky and received a swift spell from Magno. He stood back on his feet before Euphos could benefit from his tripping.

Fowbip skidded on the tile, trying to flee, and knocked into Gutto's ankle hard enough to make Gutto's swing go wide. Euphos backed up and sank another arrow into Gutto's head, this time into his brow. Gutto smiled even with two arrows piercing him. He grabbed a dagger from his waist and lunged at the wenzekai who battled with Apis. Euphos didn't comprehend why until he saw the dagger in Gutto's hand.

"Apis, no!" Euphos cried.

Gutto sank the faint red blade of the ghosydium dagger into the wenzekai, and as the blade punched into Apis, into the wenzekai's back, Euphos fired at Gutto's back. The arrow didn't affect the anti-paladin and Euphos's concern rose, concern that the hunters simply could not hurt this enemy.

Gutto's laugh echoed as Apis's white form ripped before his blade. The spirit vibrated quickly as the blade sank in, like a metal rod striking an anvil. The cut would eventually metastasize and his spirit would simply dissolve into spectral dust.

The saddle skite was slithering, Shebiss's dark magic come to life, and Euphos yelled, "Shebiss, attack the wenzekai, with the fiend!" Shebiss heard Euphos but did not think it would be wise, until he saw Bronty and Voyancer fighting the wenzekai's mental attacks.

The fiend slithered to a wenzekai and grabbed its ankle, sending shocks while the wenzekai fought with Et to keep control. The shock did not affect the wenzekai, which was immune to physical attack, but it distracted it, and Et pushed inside. Et conscripted the body from the wenzekai, attaching his spiritual force to the sinews that it belonged in, latching onto his body like the saddle skite's jaws latched to the wenzekai, who could not repel him. His force filled the body, stripping the wenzekai's grip from it, dominating the vital energy that would power life. He finally ripped the alien force from the body, and this pulled Bronty from the wenzekai's spell.

Et could not animate the body, to move its limbs, but the wenzekai could not either, and the body stood like a statue. Bronty finally righted her thoughts, feeling the will to do good come back to her, the will to see burdens smashed, shackles crushed. She saw Gutto attack the wenzekai, probably because the spirits gained traction.

Euphos hacked at the stitched horror but couldn't strike, and Gutto was able to dodge quickly with haste magic. At the sight of arrows sticking from Gutto, Bronty grabbed her staff and called on the spirits, tapping the tree spirits, in particular, for the wood from Euphos's arrows. Raising her staff, she asked the nature spirits to grow that wood, and they listened. Green light drew ellipses, and shadows wound like snakes to form a complicated pattern, the spirits giving her power to grow the wood.

The arrow shafts expanded, becoming tree-trunk size and ripping Gutto's body into pieces. Gutto yanked the wood shafts from his body while battling Euphos. Massive gaps in his body came together, but the stitches ripped, and his muscles dangled. His body became even more disfigured, organs powered by undead magic pushing out from between the stitched pieces. Gutto grabbed a tissue block that had no stitches to keep it together and transformed it to stone.

Gutto blocked Euphos's strikes, and Euphos finally hopped back from the battle while Gutto still hacked at the wenzekai Apis possessed. Any more strikes and Apis would become spectral dust. The spirits would need to take the other wenzekai.

"Euphos, let Gutto attack the wenzekai," Bronty explained. "His dagger pierced his own guards--we can't even do that." It made sense, but Euphos's fury rose.

"He's killing the spirits, and they don't deserve that--they did right."

"Right or wrong is irrelevant. We don't have options here."

"Gods curse this behemoth!" Euphos cried. "The filthy vermin will not get away with this!" His anger burned hot, hatred taking his mind completely, his arms shaking with pure fiery violence. Gutto and his king would continue to destroy Phracia if Euphos could not intervene. "They have taken my people and my home from me. I hid in the godforsaken swamp to escape the destruction. They have taken . . ."

A memory, a woman riding away from Euphos, filled his mind.

She spoke with Euphos, then she trotted from the swamp, to the highway. The memory came in pieces, flashes, like a ghost haunting the keep. Her hair was black, long. Very, very familiar, but he could not remember who she could be. "They took . . ." He could not remember, but he could sense his life being smashed to pieces, then he was fleeing into the swamp, to try to save his life. The woman, who could she be? 

# Chapter 18

Bronty saw Euphos drifting and knew what was coming. "Euphos!" she yelled, just in time to distract the hunter from an episode.

Euphos saw Gutto move to the wenzekai that Sim possessed. He struck the spirit, punching the dagger into its back. Sim's spirit shrieked and Euphos could not do anything about it. Voyancer still battled with the wenzekai's mental attack, and Gutto moved to a third wenzekai, Prikto, and struck its spirit. Euphos burned inside, with the memories filling his mind. He could never quite put together why the cult and Phracia's moral destruction weighed on his mind so heavily, but it became obvious. He had tried to flee from the chaos and the degradation, unconsciously aware that his country stood on the brink. The time alone allowed Euphos to reflect on why Phracia bled, and he was finally becoming fully conscious when he saw Gutto slaying the spirits.

Gutto and his ilk made it their life's work to destroy his home and his life, in ways that he still didn't fully grasp. Euphos gripped his bow with the strength of a vise, his hands white with hatred. The unquenchable desire to slaughter, to flay and destroy, to rend, consumed him. He would kill anything related to the cult--any man, woman, or being that stood idle while his life burned. Death to traitors.

Shebiss lay, still confused, still recovering from Gutto's attack. Then he sensed a feeling that he prized, that he loved. He sensed a killer's aura. Close to him stood a killer, a being possessed with pure hate, taking joy in killing, killing with want. Shebiss suspected Gutto, but this being suddenly came as if drawn from a god's domain. The hatred seemed godlike, ubiquitous, all powerful. Shebiss bent his head, pain still wracking his body. He could not move his arms, which were probably fractured--Gutto's strike was too powerful, even with the warlock's shadow magic–empowered shield. Gutto possessed vast power, and his tortured body was infused with boundless strength. Shebiss could not lift his bladder to his lips to drink elixir, but he could see, to his surprise, the source of the hatred, its genesis and maker.

The fiery storm came from Euphos, a burning hatred that would make even Shebiss's patron happy. Suddenly, Shebiss's long blade lit up, the symbols burning red--then white, hotter and brighter than ever. It vibrated as if excited at the possibility that Euphos would wield it. The burning white extended to the forte, then the foible, then the handle, until the long blade resembled a sun. Shebiss threw it to Euphos's feet.

"Take it--strike!" Shebiss yelled, wincing with every syllable.

Euphos could not understand what he said, for the long blade blinded his view and his attention. It called to Euphos, and he resisted, only a brief flicker, until his hatred burned his hesitation to ashes. If he became a servant to the evil gods because of his lust to kill, then he would serve faithfully. Shebiss's long blade hopped into Euphos's palm, death lust binding Euphos to evil, to become one with killing. The fiery weapon ignited Euphos's soul, touching wrath, empowering things that he had always suppressed--desires to mutilate, to slay. Euphos gained even more strength with the touch of the sword in his grip, his already-muscular frame doubling in weight and in force.

A portal to the dark kings opened to let in evil magic when Euphos's hatred rose, and Shebiss's long blade was filled with power the warlock could never hope to possess. Euphos saw Gutto strike Et's spirit, and Prikto, Sim, and Apis were already becoming spectral dust.

Euphos blazed white, his body almost invisible as he bolted at Gutto, who pivoted to strike at Euphos, barely able to see the hunter inside the furious fire. Gutto leveled his long blade at the hunter, attempting to use Euphos's movement to impale him. But when Euphos came close, his fiery body vaporized Gutto's long blade, and when his swing hit, Shebiss's empowered long blade ripped the stitched horror into a bubbling mass.

The energy then grew. The dark-magic kings lavished their corruptive forces on Euphos, hoping to win his soul.

The massive white blast blew Gutto's mushed sinews from the keep and destroyed the main portal, ripping a section big enough for a vice walker to enter. A shadow surrounded Euphos as Wruum withdrew his gifts from the hunters. They had completed their task, and the Shadow Dragon repossessed his powers.

Resire, Tat, and Dang saw the explosion, then bolted inside to find the hunters. Euphos, still white with hatred, threw the long blade away from him. He found the wenzekai still standing, the spirits having taken control but then being destroyed, Gutto slaying every one. The hunter would not let the spirits be destroyed, for the spirits were good, loving liberty. Euphos could only ever find a handful of men who loved liberty, who cherished Bas's wisdom, who would give their lives to save Phracia. He would not let these spirits be destroyed.

"We are not going to let the spirits go--we will find a way to bring them back," Euphos declared. "They all deserve to live, for Phracia will never exist without spirits who love liberty. They risked eternal death to fight here, and we will not let these spirits perish."

Euphos spoke as if possessed, as if he were the gods' vicar. He could feel righteous fury inside, the desire to destroy all who would destroy and take liberty. The spirits would live, and if they didn't, he would harvest several more, destroying as retribution a hundred spirits who cared not to protect liberty, taking from the vast population the spirits with no bravery. Dismissive, selfish spirits that refused to fight to keep liberty, who rested on the brave backs of others, could not survive. Euphos knew a thousand cowards, and he counted one brave soul worth more than the sum. Sim, Et, Apis, and Prikto would live--he would find a way. Euphos stood, still on fire with the destructive magic coursing through his body.

"Shebiss," he asked, "who do you pray to?"

\- * -

Shebiss served the evil entity known as Xidack. Shebiss and Euphos trudged through a swamp in Xidack's domain. Shebiss had contacted the Lord of the Seven Hatreds at Euphos's request and they traveled to his keep to ask for power--the power to resurrect the noble spirits. The other hunters stayed back at Gutto's keep, where Bronty mended Shebiss, having to perform unique rites to allow the spirits to grant her power. The nature spirits did not wish to make the warlock right, but Bronty argued her case, promising to repay the spirits with good works.

Xidack's keep, built at the mountain top, stood on cliff edges, with dark chasms on either side obscured by fog or clouds. Euphos could not be sure if the whole land stood high in the sky or in a valley, inside these witch lands. Shebiss advised Euphos to cover himself, to not show any skin: The Mercy Sisters could smell men, and the slightest scent would bring the witches upon them. They walked a long while, their boots soggy with sulfurous water, detritus collecting inside their clothes. Euphos found land quickly, and the hunters exited the wicked waters.

A massive fiend, bigger than the geizrs in Euphos's swamp, came suddenly, emerging from the water like a rogue. If they stood in the water a second longer they'd probably be up to their ankles in battle, in blood.

"We must hurry"--Shebiss picked up his pace--"or the sisters will no doubt find us. We need to make sure that when they do we will be just a step from Xidack's keep."

The witches slaughtered men from the countryside in order to right old wrongs. The witches professed their hatred, for they were former wives seeking revenge on their guilty husbands, on men in general, because of historical abuses, when women were not allowed to roam as did their husbands. The witches came from different planets, finding a way into Xidack's domain, to discover the king's secrets and to grow their hatred. They resented their wombs, because this limited their power. They would always be valued as mothers, not by their own works. They declared that this could not be.

"Who are the witches?" Euphos asked.

"They are scorned women, here to seek the power to hate, to bask in it. Xidack allows them to stay." Shebiss made a savage cut against the brush in their way.

"Wronged. Yes, I see."

"Many are here because they hate their bodies, their distinct characteristics as women. They are limited because they bear children, and society does not believe they are worthy in much else. They wish to be warriors, to be rulers, to control power like men."

"I am limited, too," Euphos replied. "I do not have the power to bear children, so I do not have the benefit they do. They may do little else than have children, and men like me will build kingdoms to win their hearts. Shouldn't I be angry that I do not have that luxury? I should hope the witches do become powerful, that I may woo their love with my beautiful black locks."

Shebiss hmphed as if he agreed. "They can do to their liking, but a woman who would prefer to quest will find that she does not bear children."

A voice came from above. "Children are devil's work, to destroy us and our dreams." The voice cracked, as if fearful, like the voice of a child who would not be disciplined.

The hunters looked up and saw a woman, in black cloaks that slapped in the wind, floating in the air against a black, stormy sky. "We have cleansed this land, and you will pay because you are arrogant."

"We will never be your enemies," Euphos explained, "but those who would wish to destroy my home would like to see us so. If they can destroy our unique traits, male and female, they will have destroyed the bond between us. It is our very distinct traits that bind us together, that make us need one another. I as a man need you--your beauty--to complete me. You as a woman need a man to protect you, to help you bear your child. If we were the same, what would bind us together? We would be complete alone and have no reason to seek the other."

More witches came to fly above the swamp canopy. "Men have only used us like objects, like brooms, sweeping the house with us then throwing the dirt from the steps," one witch said, moving to and fro between the viny mousk trees. The knotted mousk trunks lifted up saggy branches rich with water.

"The Mercy Sisters will destroy everything you have ever made," another declared, "as you have destroyed us. We will make you hurt like we have hurt. We will make you serve us as we have served you. Prepare to die, you filthy scum. You have earned it."

"Why do you not let us serve you?" Euphos asked. "Have we not served you? I would gladly die to protect my wife. We men give our lives in battle to make Repath Aos Vio safe. I would never ask the same from you because you are the source--creators, child bearers."

"It is men who cause destruction--do not try to fool us with talk. You will pay."

"We give our lives to build a home, to protect you from the wicked. Do not blame us, for the wicked will do evil. We men are devoted to you women, and never wish to see you harmed."

"Shut his mouth, sisters!" cried the first witch. "We will take from the beast and emasculate the oppressors."

Shebiss grabbed Euphos's cloak and pulled, and the hunters bolted. The witches, flying above the canopy, ducked at them, where the trees allowed, to rake with their clawed hands. The diseased witches infected everything they touched, so patches of trees got stricken with rotting slime, and beasts with fiery mucous. Slobber from the witches' mouths rained down, and just a slight touch would cause life to writhe in agony, with pain like the lashes from a sadist's whip. Shebiss pointed at the keep, at the swamp edge. The hunters stayed near the trees, keeping the witches in the forest flying at the hunters, dodging the branches and bushes.

"We are going to take the beating hearts from you and make you feel what we suffer!" one shrieked. Euphos got a look at a witch as she sped close. Rats and maggots infested her hair, and her eyes were black, with no irises. "We would rather see the roaches prosper than the oppressors! We will destroy everything--let nature do as it will!"

Euphos could smell the rotting witch, her body purposely kept filthy to keep her hatred pure, loathing that men had once looked at her as a sexual object.

"Are you willing to die to save a husband's life?" Euphos challenged. "Will you fight to protect a husband? I don't think you will, but I will fight to save my family! I will die before I let anything happen to them!"

Shebiss yanked Euphos's shoulder again to stop him provoking the witches.

"You say you are my equal? Ha!" A witch slashed Euphos's back with a dagger, the tip ripping a gash as long as his arm. More witches flew, their black cloaks almost invisible against the dark sky.

Suddenly a massive monster, with jaws bigger than its body, chomped at Shebiss. The warlock shifted to the side before his chest was pulled from his body, the monster's teeth long enough to pierce all the way through. Shebiss escaped death with only inches to spare. "Go, there!" Shebiss yelled, pointing up a hill.

The hunters bolted up to a stream dividing the hill at the top. The witches, like a flock, pushed the hunters that way, with several witches floating inside the forest, to block the hunters from making it all the way.

"We need to get there," Shebiss panted, pointing beyond the hill. The men drew their long blades and drove on.

The witches moved inward, about to impale the hunters with their claws, but Euphos slashed at his side, severing a witch's hand. Green blood spewed from the wound and doused her sisters, more blood than Euphos would have expected from her body. The witches trapped the hunters, making a wide circle, and the hunters skidded to a halt, with witches in every direction.

"Can you make a fire?" Shebiss asked.

"Yes, why?" Euphos asked, searching for a gap in the circle.

"Light her blood--the one you injured."

Euphos struck a flint fire kit, quickly, and lit an arrow on fire. The witches closed in quicker, just feet from ripping the hunters to pieces, when Euphos's arrow hit the bloody witch. The fire exploded, traveling from witch to witch, the bloody witches catching fire first, then the rest, their oily, unkempt clothes and bodies like tinder. Howls erupted, and the hunters bull-rushed the witches ahead, knocking a gap in their fiery circle. The witches howled in pain as the hunters ran up the hill and toward Xidack's keep, its full girth finally visible.

When the hunters made it to the hilltop Euphos looked back and saw the witches' fiery limbs draw lines in the sky as they flew back toward their homes in the forest. Euphos did not waste energy grieving for the witches even if they had felt much pain in their lives. Many people feel pain, but that does not give them the right to destroy the bedrock of civilization. Relationships between men and women functioned as society's very source and would always do so, more completely and better than any other single factor. Euphos turned his attention back to their journey.

Black spires stabbed at the stormy sky, with red pouring from the keep's windows. The whole keep might be a dragon, Euphos observed, its insides ablaze with fire, the keep's dark stones its scales. Red came from the sky above, too, emanating from a blood-red sun that sat behind the clouds as a ruthless king protected by his black cloud wall. Euphos could see lava streams bubbling from volcanoes at the keep's periphery. The fiery veins hissed when the lava hit water pools surrounding the volcanoes. Pressure inside the land crushed the rock and lit it on fire, the volcano spitting the resultant lava like blood from a wound. Euphos could feel a revelation inside himself longing to come forth, the tension much the same as in the volcanoes' inner workings.

Euphos and Shebiss did not waste time, bolting toward a swamp that became black rock the closer they got to the keep. The land narrowed, with towering cliffs on either side. The path to Xidack's keep would allow only a few men to stand shoulder to shoulder on approach. A raised drawbridge was ahead, allowing a crossing above a whistling chasm. _The winds filling the chasm must be activating horns,_ Euphos mused, as a rumbling bass came from the guts of the structure.

The hunters came to the edge, and Shebiss paused. "We will walk to the other side, and in order to do this, you must be sure, sure that there is hate in you."

"Yes?"

"The drawbridge will not carry your weight, if you do not hate."

Creaking, then chains clinking as the drawbridge opened like a mouth. The chains supporting its weight were rusted, its planks rotted, and the drawbridge twisted in the wind. "Your feet will find a way across, able to escape terrors, but only if your hate is pure."

Euphos hesitated.

"Pure hate can come about only when empathy is eradicated," Shebiss continued. "When you cease to see things through another's eyes, and care only to see that person removed, you have achieved it."

"I believe I will be fine," Euphos said as the hunters stepped to the bridge.

Shebiss tested his feet on what seemed solid wood, he had proved his worth to Xidack many times, and hatred filled his mind like air filled his lungs. The warlock eyed Euphos. There was no respect for Euphos's principles in him, and he did not seek to gain from Euphos being in a better position to complete their bounty. Xidack would reward the warlock for recruiting Euphos to his flock, a reward that would allow the warlock to increase his power to--

Euphos's foot punched a hole in the bridge, and he tripped, smashing his knee on the rotten planks.

"You are a coward, hunter, and I regret the day I joined you," Shebiss declared as he moved along.

Euphos felt the sting from Shebiss's insult, though he quickly surmised the warlock attempted to anger him on purpose, to save the hunter's life. Euphos had thought his hate would be pure, certain. But as he attempted to pull his foot from the bridge, the wood beneath his hands cracked, and a section broke, allowing the hunter to see the full doom that awaited, the chasm. Why did he doubt his hatred? Did he not hate Gutto fully and purely? Did he not wish to see the stitched horror slain a million times?

But Euphos could feel doubt, just a small bit. Doubt that he should've destroyed Gutto.

Why? The tyrant tortured his subjects, worked to destroy Phracia, caused chaos and corruption knowingly to bring about a terrible revolution. Why did Euphos not quite hate the vile creature totally? Euphos's hands broke the flimsy bridge wood, and he found himself dangling above the chasm, with only a foot able to find purchase.

"No lady would have you--you're a fraud," Shebiss taunted.

Lady.

That hurt Euphos, reminded him of a woman--dark hair, sleeping together, her hips curving the blanket. Euphos's mind exploded in pain as rogues pounced on his back, smashing his brains from his head with hammers. The vision clouded the chasm, took him from Xidack's hellish domain for a moment. In that moment everything came together--the feeling that he couldn't quite describe, the hesitation he felt when analyzing his hatred.

Why did he not hate Gutto fully? Because he did not fully comprehend just what Gutto and his ilk took from the hunter. Yes, they had destroyed his home, caused Euphos to flee to the swamp, took his friends and took peace from the hunter himself. But taking these things did not quite cause Euphos to hate Gutto fully, absolutely, unequivocally. They destroyed his home, transformed Phracia with conspiracies, spread chaos and anarchy, built the cult, infiltrated academia, disrupted Phracia's military power, seized government control, corrupted religion. As a result, they took . . . they took the one . . . the only . . .

_Pressia._

Euphos's hatred suddenly repaired the bridge, straightened its sagging beams, fixed its broken planks, reforged its rusty chains, and Euphos stood, with hatred fueling a fire that would never be extinguished, a fire that would burn the universe, to torture, destroy, slaughter, flay, rend, crush, eradicate anything, anyone who would dare play adversary against him. His hatred woke beasts in the chasm, frightened predators on the hills, scattered flocks in the sky.

That chaos they made, the divisions the Mercy Sisters wished to drive between men and women, the chaos they grew with the cult, bringing anarchy to the streets, confiscating land--all this worked to rip Pressia from Euphos, worked to sway her mind, motivated her to question her life with the hunter, and she . . . Euphos blanked.

His hatred became eternal like the gods, and remained, still, even when Euphos could no longer remember what occurred on the bridge. Pressia's memory hid from his view but stayed close and became visible, just a split second, here and there. These glimpses refueled Euphos's hatred and allowed the hunter to maintain the bridge. Shebiss watched from the cliff edge, and he smiled--a hateful smile, an expression no soul had ever seen the warlock make.

The hunters made their way into Xidack's keep, entering a long dark hall with magic torches cracking on the walls. The Lord of the Seven Hatreds appeared to enjoy many of the same accoutrements as aristocrats on Repath Aos Vio: stone tile, black wood desks, tables, frescoes, lavish art, crystal chandeliers. The keep resembled those Euphos had walked during bounties in Phasebios. Haunting shamblers and spectres preferred the Biotian keeps to most dwellings because the aristocrats preferred to use magic rather than candles or torches to brighten the keep, flames being harmful to undead.

The magic torches became red when Shebiss and Euphos walked to a chamber built on to a reception room. The chamber would be used to interview candidates wishing to speak to the king. Many symbols adorned the chamber, on its rugs and walls, and their angles, circles, and shapes were like those drawn at Ides's temples. They were precise, but with everyday objects represented in the symbol, like ropes and rulers. Ides ruled will, speaking to her flock with symbols, such as the anvil and clippers, representing beings' ability to craft their destiny.

The symbols lit up, specific symbols representing suns with several more suns on its periphery, or one symbol much like a tree, with vines and abstract designs added to represent ideas, concepts. The multitude lit up, too, and a square creature with eyes implanted surgically everywhere on its body scurried through the chamber to read the symbols, many at a time. The creature's body was slick with mucous, reflecting the red.

"She will come to us when she is finished reading the symbols," Shebiss almost mouthed, shocked into quietness at what he saw. "The symbols represent character--they are who you are. This is surprising, for they read me quickly, and a handful defined me. You, I see, have symbols I never have, lots of them."

She read a long time, studying one symbol in particular--a scythe, with markings that resembled chains, and a table. The creature moved, almost floated, to Euphos, its many clustered feet packed tightly like bristles in a horsehair brush. She stared at Euphos long with crystal-ball eyes, then spoke. "You will have a very great impact on Repath Aos Vio, but I am afraid to tell you that there will be much pain in your life, pain that you will never rid yourself of." She spoke with a gravely wisp, her speech seeming almost painful to her. "I would like to speak to you longer, for symbols have activated that I have never researched, and a full reading could take days. But you must see Xidack. I have much to tell him, and he will not wait patiently. Good day," she concluded.

Euphos would have liked to hear the full reading.

The two hunters entered a bigger chamber with tall ceilings, lit from above by a magic torch in a chandelier. A long table filled the chamber, with a man sitting at its edge in the one chair in the whole room. The bald man could be a noble, for he resembled most aristocrats from Repath Aos Vio.

"Is this Xidack?" Euphos asked as they approached. The man's fine tailored jacket and trousers could have been produced at the best tailors' shops in Spektros, for the weave pattern was much the same, the delicate lines in this man's suit possibly even finer.

Shebiss did not reply. When they got closer they could see the aristocrat whittling a figure from a wood block, and even closer they saw blood dripping from the man's eyes, to make pools that painted his clothes red. Euphos saw blood dribbling from the table, soaking dark red into his clothes.

"Euphos, hello," the man said with a refined accent, and a noble's superior attitude. "Do you know why we aristocrats hate you? Because we all do, you know. The people are stupid, and it is our divine right to do whatever is necessary to keep you away from us. We sow chaos, hire street thugs to commit crime, refuse to prosecute felons, and destroy your life, all to keep factions going. These divisions make it difficult for you to group, to resist," the aristocrat spat. "The Mercy Sisters destroy relations between men and women. Why? To divide you, for this enables us to take your rights. Why would a man fight when he's got no wife to fight for? One time I slew a guard troop, as they attempted to jail wild men who destroyed their city with crime. I ripped the hearts from their chests."

"Who are you?" Euphos interjected.

"The wild men did as they do," the man continued, ignoring Euphos. "This helps us. We prohibit the people from speaking about the chaos, and we arrest or berate the people who would. We make 'hate' a crime, then say that people who attempt to control crime are hateful. It is called 'divide and conquer' and it works every time. I believe the city, Lectidomes, is seeing this same tactic in action as we speak. We tolerate everything, and if you don't, you will, because we torture any who would stop the chaos. If you claim that a person should be responsible and not commit crime, we blame you, as we all know that crime is committed because you are mean. It is most beautiful logic, that the very people who wish to bring peace and prosperity become the hated foe!" The aristocrat's laugh boomed, with unholy depth. Euphos burned.

"What are you?!"

"We live in keeps, with all the pleasures and protections, while we destroy the people's homes, divide them against each other, bed their women. Why would we allow the people to prosper? We would then be subject to their will, as they would be a powerful force. No, they must live in chaos, and we in luxury, because it is right."

Euphos drew his long blade and slashed, but the hilt became fire hot, and he threw it from his grip. "I am here to see Xidack--take me if you are not him!" Euphos yelled, clutching his hand.

"That is I, hunter," the aristocrat purred, with Shebiss watching from the periphery.

"Give me power," Euphos demanded, "the power to resurrect the spirits and give the spirits bodies."

"I will not, Euphos. You are good, and I do not help the good, because . . . just because."

"Just because?! I made it across the bridge, and I defeated the witches!"

"Yes, you did, but hate can be righteous, and in this case it is. Righteous hate is too clean, and referring to my story about the aristocrats' proper position, those who wish to see peace and prosperity are my foes, and I would only hurt myself by helping you."

Shebiss interrupted Euphos's cursing. "What about me?"

Xidack perked up. With his attention Shebiss offered, "Give me the power to do as Euphos wishes, and I will make sure it becomes a deed devil-worthy."

Euphos's eyebrow arched.

"I wish to see good men, their spirits returned," Euphos said. "What could you possibly do to make that a deed that would please the Lord of the Seven Hatreds?"

"I will give Xidack a good soul, a pure soul, righteous and true, that he may treasure, that he would enjoy--to study it, corrupt it, bend it, reward it."

Euphos himself.

\- * -

Euphos searched his life, to find a reason why he would promise his soul to the Lord of the Seven Hatreds, to allow Shebiss to take his life and his soul. Why agree to eternity in servitude? _I would like to see the spirits resurrected, but giving my soul . . . giving my soul . . . giving my . . ._ Euphos could not finish his thought. Another thought pushed its way in, disrupting the hunter. Lying on a bed, with a woman, dark hair. He lay awake staring at her, studying every curve, every angle, as the woman slept. Then day came, and he watched the woman ride from the swamp to the city, and he could sense that there would be pain, that he would regret letting her ride. He could then see a different woman, and he asked her, "Where is she? She is not here. Where is Pressia?" The woman stared at Euphos a long time, not answering. The woman's quiet meant that Pressia had left, and that Euphos would never see her again. And this is why Euphos did not hesitate to sell his soul.

"It's yours," he blurted, then shook violently while his mind wiped the visions from his thoughts, allowing the hunter to pursue his quest, to stay awake. 

# Chapter 19

Euphos and Shebiss traveled back to Apis's keep, where Shebiss resurrected the spirits, for power was given to the warlock to enable him to reunite the spirits with their bodies. Gutto's death made Pursila mortal, and she wept when she saw her love again.

Euphos did not tell the hunters what had transpired, about the contract. He feared they would question his leadership.

"Euphos, I think you should see this," Bronty said, and grabbed Euphos's hand. They walked up the stairs to a wide, dark chamber with an odd mechanical device on a stand. The device fascinated the hunters with its perfectly designed angles, as if made by the gods. The device whirred, with chirps, like a bird, almost alive. It could be from Xipigong, where manufactures with such precision could be made with advanced techniques. But this is not what made Euphos freeze in his tracks when they came into the room. A light shaft many feet wide lit up the device. Euphos didn't quite know what he recognized about it.

"Watch this," Bronty said as she lifted firewood from a stack near a stove and put it inside the shaft. The wood burned quickly.

"We saw the same thing in the Hemia Forest caves," Bronty remembered. "The sun shield."

Euphos asked Apis about the device, but the aristocrat did not know anything. Voyancer requested that Apis protect the device. "For I believe it is time that we travel to my home. My people may know about this, and why it resembles the fixture in the caves. I would like all to come--the aristocrats as well."

With several looks, Bronty asked the psionicist about Shebiss.

"The warlock will come, too, though I must exclude him from the party and ask that he disarm."

The hunters slept in Apis's keep for the night, while Aos's paladins rescued Gutto's subjects, healing their wounds both psychological and physical. The paladins had to cast cure-psychosis spells, as many subjects were traumatized. Gutto had tortured their minds and bodies with macabre spells and physical pain. Others of Aos's paladins occupied the hills with forces stationed at regular points to protect the hills from future threats, though Derse reported that authoritarians had arrested and imprisoned many elected leaders in Lectidomes. The paladins would use the hills to build a force to retake Lectidomes, recruiting paladins from all the gods save Magno. Chayzon Skus could not be contacted, and the paladins suspected that he would prove to be the force responsible for the chaos and would need to be removed from power with violence. They would attempt to retake the city and set up a temporary government until they could reestablish elections and democratic rule.

Euphos closed his eyes, then traveled in spirit to the astral dimension. He appeared at the asylum, where the yard was full of spirits moving into a massive group, a war band that had come to the asylum to recruit all spirits into Vau Geru's army. Euphos could see several phalanxes of war spirits with plate armor, pikes, and shields. Spirit armies could travel great spans in short periods, unlike their mortal equivalents, because they did not carry supply wagons. The spirits did not sleep and did not get tired. Undead spirits in the material dimension possessed the same benefits, yet most spirits who stayed in the material dimension after death would become erratic and crazed. It didn't make sense to stay in the material dimension if you could be living with the gods in pure bliss.

Tales and rumors for centuries held that Spektros could reanimate their dead soldiers. When a spectral soldier fell in battle and his body could no longer function, his spirit would separate from his body. Spectral medics could then mend the body but would still need to find a way to attach the spirit, or any spirit, back to the body. Those spirits of fallen soldiers who wished to move on to the gods' domains could not be forced to reenter their bodies, and thus the Spectral commanders sent recruiters to the astral dimension to gather spirits who were willing to return to the physical dimension to enter a newly repaired Spectral soldier's body.

If Spektros could recruit these returning spirits from Vau Geru's forces, then Spektros would benefit from the general's success. The spirits would be battle-trained, able to fight as professionals, and this would save the Spectral Empire time and resources. Euphos could only speculate on what they had in mind.

A spirit floated from the center of the yard, between phalanxes. His black cape shrouded his body, and his red armor shone like new blood in the astral dimension's grey land. Several troops flanked the spirit, with long blades strapped to their backs and heraldry waving with the spectral atmosphere.

Two more spirits came from the back, with horns. They took positions at a phalanx and blew their trumpets, and many Wracked Souls stood in awe, while most failed to alter their psychotic rambling paths at all. Euphos saw a spirit click his boots together--he was probably a soldier in his life. The red-armored spirit floated to the asylum, carrying his helmet, and surveyed the spirits then spoke like a king. "I am Vau Geru, and we are here to ask if you believe that you are better than most? If you are a hero who believes that I will find you worthy . . . The divine right to control the astral lands comes from Vursa, and she has promised that if you will join, we become the kings, its rulers, forever. Step forward and separate--become great, prove that Vursa is right to believe in you."

Euphos counted only three spirits that stepped forward to join Vau Geru's forces, and they could have just stumbled. The Wracked Souls did not trust Geru.

"I see," Vau reflected. Then he turned to his forces and ordered, "Kill them all." The forces moved forward, leveled their pikes, and ripped the spirits to pieces, and many spirits did not comprehend they were being impaled. The several who did fled the asylum. Euphos moved back to the temple, to watch the battle from inside its walls. At this point, getting to Geru would not be possible . . .

A growl like a volcano erupted and Geru's forces stopped hacking at the spirits, the growl shaking the spirit domain's grey matter like an earthquake. The troops searched furiously to find its source. To the west, a beast walked, bigger than a dragon, each leg as tall as the destroyed asylum tower, probably eight stories in height. The beast resembled a massive hound, with spikes on its wide flat head and on its stocky body. The asylum rumbled when the beast's thick limbs pounded into the prairie, and it moved fast.

"This will be the greatest challenge!" Geru yelled. "Form up and prepare to battle!" His army reluctantly obeyed. They must fear Geru more than death, Euphos surmised.

The beast's breathing shook the asylum as it came ever closer--it must have tracked Vau Geru's army, because massive creatures like this did not pursue small game. The spectral beasts came from the spectral wildlands, Growdum, a region of the land where titanic beasts roamed without spirit populations. The spectral beasts were not spirits but spiritual energy, formed in such a way that they lived only to destroy. They were not self-aware like humanoid spirits but roamed the land much like their mortal relatives, their lives spent roaming and destroying.

The dog beast's massive size was due to its successful hunting, for it grew when it destroyed spirits, much like Vau Geru. Euphos would need to go to the temple to survive. The beast would track down any who lived if it destroyed Vau Geru first, and if it didn't destroy him, Vau Geru would track them down himself.

A beast this size rarely left its home, and though it might destroy Vau Geru, making Euphos's job easier, it presented a whole new problem. Euphos floated to the temple and to the first chamber. He found the blond-haired woman in her anatomy chamber, frightened at the stomping.

"Listen to me," Euphos told her. "If you wish to see the asylum saved you are going to do what I say. If the beast destroys Vau Geru, it will destroy the temple, and if it does not, Vau Geru will be here himself."

Euphos explained that they should help Geru defeat the beast, then lure him to the temple. "I will take the guise of a spiritual surgeon, and you will tell Geru that he is injured and does not know it. Bring the general to me, in the third chamber . . . If you don't, we will not live."

"If the beast destroys Geru . . . ?" she asked.

"Run."

When the beast made it to the asylum, Geru's forces rushed at the beast's legs, thrusting their pikes at its massive paws. The pikes cut in and the beast kicked the spirits, crushing several with a stomp while it ripped a phalanx to pieces with a bite. The spirits' remains floated above the asylum, for there was no force left to pull the arms, feet, and heads back down. Other spirit phalanxes floated up to strike the beast in its maw, then stuck the beast in its neck, but they were head-butted to pieces when it thrashed violently. It seemed the forces could not even hurt the beast. Euphos watched Geru as the general pulled the bow from his back, aimed, then released, and the arrow resembled a caster's fireball more than an arrow as it flew at the beast, traveling too fast to see except with Euphos's peripheral vision.

The arrow struck with great force and the beast howled at the massive fiery wound. The behemoth stomped a phalanx as it searched the asylum for the source of the attack. Geru launched a second arrow, striking the beast's paw and causing it to stumble as it rumbled toward Geru, its eyes locked on him, ready to destroy. Geru floated straight up, yelling to his troops to strike at the beast, and Euphos saw his opportunity.

He floated from the temple to a phalanx still waiting to attack. He approached the ranks and yelled, "You will ascend to heroes if you listen--strike at the beast's belly!"

The troops analyzed Euphos. "Who are you?" one warrior asked.

"My name is Viv Tropt Kyume," Euphos said as he grasped his ghosydium long blade, pulling it from his back to lend credibility to his claim. The troops knew the name, Kyume being a legendary war hero from Eudybium. During the battle to drive the ogres from Phracia, he had defeated the ogre king Spra Rockblood.

"What would you have us do?" a warrior asked.

"Fly, and strike the beast from underneath. Help your commander and he will no doubt raise you to his personal guard." Tric floated from Euphos's cloak. "This Tracker will guide you. Go quickly!" Euphos advised. Tric sped toward the beast.

Heartened by Euphos's ghosydium long blade, the troops started after the beast, but mostly from fear. Ghosydium would be especially deadly to spirits, able to snap their weapons like sticks, and their spirits, too. The phalanx pointed their pikes up and flew, Tric leading the warriors to the beast. Geru had launched several more arrows at the beast, covering it with wounds. His bow proved unbelievably potent, its sheer power startling. Geru's attacks ripped the beast's skin to shreds, though the beast would be upon him if his phalanx did not strike fast. Euphos would rather have to fight Geru than the beast, for a battle with the beast would be futile if the beast first killed Geru's army. Euphos floated back to the temple to watch.

Geru dodged as the beast chomped, its teeth ripping his cape and yanking him toward its mouth. Geru would be in the beast's maw in seconds, though that could prove to be more dangerous for the beast if Geru launched arrows directly at the beast's brain from inside its mouth. But he could do that only if the beast did not catch Geru in its man-sized, stiletto-sharp teeth.

Tric flitted to the beast's belly, to the softest spot unguarded by ribs, and the phalanx was almost in striking position. Geru spotted them and flew in circles to slow the beast, hitting it with two more arrows, then ducked a paw swipe. The phalanxes' pikes pierced the beast, ripping a gash the length of his stomach. The beast's spirit started to break, becoming spectral dust as it littered the spectral air like a mist. Its skin flaked and its body dissolved in many different sections until it simply became dust, floating on the spectral winds to fill the prairie with ever more spirit.

Geru and his forces regrouped, and just as Euphos predicted they marched to the temple. Euphos floated to the third chamber and instructed the dwarf surgeon that he would need to become Euphos's nurse. "I need you to give me a coat and hand me those tools when Geru comes in. If you don't let me do this, he will kill us all." The dwarf seemed to agree and fitted Euphos with the appropriate clothing. Euphos analyzed the tools, and the dwarf then described what they did.

"Give me a tool that will allow me to destroy Geru," Euphos ordered. The dwarf gave him a long tool with magic gems in its handle, metal arms protruding at odd angles.

"Use this," the dwarf said. "Draw it across his vurge, the shape in the chest area. This will cause his spirit to unravel as if you turned a winch."

Geru's army had picked up their wounded and a ranking officer entered the temple with several troops and began clearing the reception area. He commanded the temple staff to prepare their infirmaries for his wounded and ensured them that if they didn't he would kill them all, painfully.

Several temple staff instructed the commander to bring the wounded to the main bed chamber built in the center of the temple. The troops gathered the groaning and decomposing and transported them into the chamber, to the hundreds of open beds. More temple nurses arrived and oversaw their care, tending to the many rent spirits with a host of medical tools.

The anatomical nurse pulled two of Geru's troops to the side, saying that they were wounded at a fundamental level, and they needed to seek diagnosis for their conditions. The warriors hesitated, but the nurse insisted--if they did not seek treatment their spirits would eventually dissolve. The nurse charted the warriors and then sent them to the diagnosis chamber, then to the surgery chamber, where Euphos performed mock operations. Post-operation recovery went well, and the warriors thanked the nurses, advising their compatriots that they should get checked, too. The nurses picked several more warriors, giving much the same diagnoses. They went under Euphos's spiritual knife and were "healed" like the first.

Vau Geru entered the temple with his guards to check up on his troops in the infirmary. A nurse approached and said, "Sir, you had better come into the checkup room. You are suffering from the same problem--spiritual disharmony--as do many men visiting the temple."

Geru stared at the woman, incredulously. "Who do you think I am?!"

Geru's guard spoke up: "Sir, they are operating on many men and are said to have saved their lives." A second guard added, "Sir, they will not betray you. They are bound, and Vursa would not allow them to harm you--it would be against their oaths to her."

Geru gave the nurse a raking stare. "Fine, but three guards will accompany me. Guards, you will kill these if they attempt to hurt me, and then you will hunt their families, forever." The nurse did not flinch. She led Geru to the anatomy room and then instructed him to go to the diagnosis chamber. The nurse diagnosed Geru: The battle with the beast had wounded his vurge, for the violent dodges and ducks stressed his spirit, a spirit already pressured with a commander's responsibility. She advised Geru to get to the operating room as quickly as possible, having several nurses as escorts. Geru did not buy it.

"I have never heard that there is such a thing as a 'vurge' as you call it. I should have all the staff in this temple killed," he threatened. "Come with me"--he gestured to a guard, who grabbed the nurse, hauling her along as Geru and his guards headed to the infirmary--"If there is such a thing as a vurge . . ."

The nurse caught a glimpse of Euphos, walking close to her. She saw the hunter nock an arrow and read his lips: Move. Euphos fired a ghosydium arrow as she ducked, and the guards heard it, the nurse's move alerting two of them. They saw Euphos for a second, then the arrow pierced their chests, destroying three guards with one shot. Geru kept floating until he heard the arrow clank against the wall. He spun and saw Euphos fire a second arrow. Geru ducked just in time and the arrow pierced several more troops who happened to be floating close.

"Guards!" Geru shouted furiously. He drew his blade and eyed the nurse. "I will take you to the darkest pits and watch you suffer eternally!" Geru gripped the nurse and pulled her along like a shield, backward. Euphos would have to kill the nurse to get to Geru.

Geru came to the waiting room where many troops stood. "Search the temple," he ordered, "and kill everything you find!" Euphos could see a flash blurring the light coming from the magic that lit the temple. Geru raised his blade to the nurse just as the Storied Lighthouse flew inside the temple, his wings filling the room. Geru hesitated, and a sun-like flash exploded from the angel's body, filling the spirits with confusion, muting their senses.

Euphos had moved to the reception room and was spared the flash, shielded from its power as the reception room prevented it from entering the temple. Euphos impaled Geru with his long blade while the commander stumbled, dazed from the angel's burst.

Geru's spirit unraveled quickly as Euphos's ghosydium blade dealt severe judgment. Euphos picked Geru's bow from his back, having to cut the bowstring first. Everything a spirit carried would vanish when the spirit did, so Euphos had to fight furiously to capture Geru's bow in time.

Euphos saved the bow just as Vau Geru dissolved. He gave the angel a nod, lifted the bow up to inspect it, then traveled back to Apis Ekkes's keep to avoid the chaos sure to come in the asylum.

\- * -

Bronty combed her hair, then washed herself and her clothes in Apis's basins. The warm water felt good to one accustomed to the warmth of Rontus Pikaurus, which even had jungles at its southern reaches. Euphos and Shebiss returned from their trip to Xidack's domain without saying much about it. Shebiss had resurrected the spirits, and Bronty surmised they spoke to the king with the king granting them the power to perform the miraculous deed. Euphos's silence about their quest to the Lord of the Seven Hatreds gave Bronty reason to believe he hid his true actions. Demons would not grant miracles--they would not resurrect good spirits at a whim. There was no doubt a bargain made, and Euphos avoided talking about its details. Bronty had not seen Euphos a desperate man when she first met the hunter, but she saw desperation today.

Euphos's political views and his shadowy relationship with his wife surprised Bronty, given that Euphos appeared to always be calm and collected, but the battle in the keep proved that his demeanor might just be a mask like the ones she painted on herself. Euphos seemed to be a storm people could not see into from above its cloudy top.

The hunters gathered in a living chamber, with warm orange flame lighting the room. "Everyone here has proven to be fundamentally just," Voyancer explained, "and this is why I would like you to visit my home. My people also believe in balance, creating harmony, and this is why I ask the warlock to come."

"You can save the apologism," Shebiss interrupted. "I will be staying here, for I will not travel anywhere without my weapon. You can find me in Lectidomes when you return. I will rent a room where we stayed before." Shebiss turned and rode toward the Wisperium Forest, back to the city.

"Is everybody else ready?" Voyancer asked, and the hunters and aristocrats stood to follow him. They walked from the keep to a spot just beyond the forest where the treeline became a glade. "Gather here, and we will wait." They waited a long while, Bronty getting restless, tapping her staff against a stick. Voyancer did not reveal what would happen, so a cloud surprised them as it floated to the glade, growing as it came closer, and waited like a coach. "Step inside," Voyancer instructed them. "It will not ascend until we are safely in."

The hunters walked inside the cloud, where Bronty saw Euphos as a black blob more than anything, the dense vapor obscuring her vision. When they got comfortably inside, the cloud raised up, soaring to the sky. The hunters looked beneath them and found themselves looking at the entire Wisperium, then the whole region, from Lectidomes to Kleon.

"Daddy, where are we flying?" Fowbip asked Euphos as he lay on his belly, his legs pointed in every direction, trying to establish a sense that he stood on firm land.

"We're heading to Voyancer's home, in the clouds. You be a good boy and stay close when we get there. If you don't, I will kick--"

"Euphos!" Bronty interrupted, interrupting his threat.

"If he gets in trouble, I blame you. Don't interrupt me," Euphos warned. Bronty gave Euphos a look, one that he had seen his wife--

Euphos went unconscious and only woke up when the cloud docked at a massive cloud array. The land's details could not be discerned at this altitude, only black, white, and gray patches, the forests and wide prairies. The clouds resembled a docked fleet, their white decks like islands in the sky. Beyond, massive white structures stood like masts and sails. Everywhere the hunters could see vast keeps and temples, with many reflective, mirror-like, radiating Phracia's grey light, the buildings appearing to move with the clouds. They did indeed move with the clouds, anchored in the vapor with technology, not magic.

Voyancer described their methods. "Most see clouds as they do smoke, not solid, like water, or even more fluid. Vapor is water, and we rest the buildings upon it like a vessel upon the sea." Euphos could see temples bob and rock like ships on water. "The trick is density, which is why you must put these on." Voyancer handed the hunters and aristocrats rings. Bronty put the ring on and felt her body lift up as she became wispy, cloud-like. Almost ghostly. Voyancer altered his density as the hunters took time to get acquainted with their ghostly weights, and Euphos felt right at home.

Euphos checked to make sure he held Vau Geru's bow--more from instinct than from distrust. He trusted Voyancer, but he knew almost nothing of the cloudman's city.

The hunters and aristocrats moved to the city, where a high wall curved around and shaped a dome above the city. Light shone from inside the city, the translucent material making up the wall allowing a glimpse of building shapes within. Voyancer led the hunters to the gate where several cloudmen stood guard, their shiny armor reflecting the grey light much as did the buildings. They let the hunters in, the gate simply becoming mist as the hunters entered the city. It looked like a seer's vision of the future, the structures built with curves rather than blocks, with a material that resembled the most polished blades.

Massive towers stretched beyond the opening in the dome, and most structures were too perfect, too precisely built, giving Euphos the sense that the cloudmen could be gods, not mortals. The women's long hair seemed to float like the cloudmen's and their own misty anatomy. Euphos surmised that the cloudmen lived as mist in their natural state, Voyancer becoming denser when traveling with the hunters, intermingling with the denser beings. The wide streets were full of cloudmen, and Euphos saw no mounts of any kind--no coaches, no vehicles. The cloudmen traveled quickly using air currents generated from vents built at regular intervals along the streets.

"Are the cloudmen psionicists like you?" Bronty asked.

"Not many. Most view psionics as deceptive, untoward."

"You seem to be very comfortable with us, living in a denser state," noted Euphos. "Do you feel comfortable that way?"

"Many cloudmen train with weapons in a denser state--we have to if we are to be effective fighters. We have buildings that allow us to become heavier while not hurtling toward the earth. They are much like the unit that brought us here, able to carry much weight. They use technology that allows us to hover in the sky, like magic users' flying spells. Most prefer mist, yes, and feel more at home living as mist--it is more natural."

"Can you do any work as mist, like using a quill pen?" Sim asked.

"We have tools that allow us to write with speech instead. In addition, we have technology that allows us to do things like writing--items that are mist, that write mist."

Fowbip floated with the hunters, preferring to make swimming gestures as they moved to the city, kicking with his feet several times, then gliding like a fish. He interspersed this with paddling, much like a swimming dog.

Voyancer guided the hunters and aristocrats to a street bulging with cloudmen floating like spirits in the astral dimension. The mist state felt much like traveling as a spirit to Euphos, though objects could penetrate the mist without hurting. The same could not be said about objects in a spirit state, for a spirit dagger cut spirit like a dagger cut the body.

The aristocrats marveled at the cloudmen's city, and Et Biss wondered aloud, "With such a massive city, where is the military stationed? I don't see guards beyond the gate."

"Every person you see is the military. We all keep projectile weaponry personally, with many advanced weapons built around the city to defend it against attacks. Many towers you see are fitted with sentries, though they double as business centers when we are not being attacked. If we are, every cloudman in the tower becomes a defender, and the tower instantly becomes a deadly weapon, controlled by highly trained and capable citizens. In regard to policing crime, there is no crime."

No crime? Et mouthed the statement in disbelief--he would have to learn more.

"What is the city called, may I ask?" Prikto asked.

"This is three cities, and they are converged at the moment because we are celebrating the birthdays. Cloudmen are conceived and birthed in a short time, during the days when the suns are closest. We believe that being born nearer to the suns helps to bring stability and peace. We are in Weopathis, Esis is at the back, and Sepsion is at our side."

The perfectly polished buildings enthralled the Frissians, who were familiar with the slums and shanty towns in most cities in their home. The statues in Weopathis did not stand still, nor did the flora. Trees flitted like clouds, and plants traveled as mist like the cloudmen. Statues as tall as the buildings condensed at different times, and Euphos saw a statue come together above them, a cloudman with mechanical armor like a machine from Xipigong. The statue held a massive long blade with energy wisps moving at its tip and gripped a book, a massive tome, under its arm. His armor was replete with symbols, insignia, and the warrior gripped a projectile weapon in his hand. The weapon had a long tube, through which a projectile would obviously be launched. The statue then dissolved to reform again at a different spot.

"The cloudmen may be peaceful, but I have to say they are armed better than anyone on Phracia," Euphos said.

"Bas's principles, the idea that liberty brings peace and prosperity, are not lost on us," Voyancer explained. "We trust each other, and it is because we love liberty and refuse to be dictated to."

"It doesn't look like there are many cloudmen who think differently," Bronty opined, not seeing much difference between the male and female cloudmen. They all dressed in togas, or robes, mostly white with various symbols written on the fabric. Hair colors varied from white to black, as in Phracia, not much color other than some brown in between.

"'Thinking differently' is good, but not if that includes thinking like a tyrant," Voyancer added. "We do not tolerate those who wish to put authoritarians in where there are good men and women to run their own affairs. It is very important that people share principles, to the point that we believe very much alike. Different countries 'think differently' from us--you should think from that perspective that we are united about much and allow other peoples to 'think differently.' A country becomes a diluted anarchy when the people do not agree on fundamental values."

"You've got a condescending tone," Bronty quipped, refusing to look at Voyancer. "I bet you force the women to stay in the home while you do what you want."

"No, they can do what they do, which yes, is much occupied with bearing the children, but they do not see that as degrading. They enjoy it, and if they do not, they are not forced."

"Bronty, why does it bother you that the cloudmen are happy with their ways?" Euphos asked. "Is it that they do not believe they should include every competing idea?"

"I see isolation, discrimination. The peoples will never get along if they separate from one another and refuse to allow others with different ways among them."

"That's pure tripe. You seem to advocate for a 'one people' approach much like the cult. You seem to say that unique traditions, or customs, are discriminatory, which they are, but that this is bad. Please tell me why people should throw away their customs?"

Voyancer interrupted and directed the group to a building shaped like a pyramid, its turrets pointed at the sky. The wispy building's black walls shone like volcanic obsidian, and cloudmen floated about its height, moving to portals built at every level. "We may find the information we need here," he said. "Please let me guide us. It is the library that we need, one that you can't find anywhere else."

The hunters moved to the library, probably more accurately described as a government building. Euphos did not expect to be let in the building and was surprised Voyancer was leading them to it.

"Why would the cloudmen allow us in?" Euphos asked.

"We believe that good people should know as much as possible about Repath Aos Vio, that this will bring peace when everything is raised against the good. We see you in a mortal fight to save Phracia. We wish to help the good."

Fyn did not seem to have been helping the good during recent days, so the visit to Weopathis could be a gift from the luck god. When Euphos remembered his bargain with Shebiss, he had to rationalize the luck idea.

They moved to a long reception room, a quiet space with simple white paint that reminded Euphos of the temple in the asylum. They moved to a hall and then found a kind of elevator shaft with many cloudmen moving up and down it. The hunters floated up the shaft, watching the levels as they flew, and Euphos saw vast rooms full of cloudmen and desks, bookcases, and maps everywhere, projected on white tables. Euphos saw a city model made to scale, its precise details becoming fully visible as the cloudman viewing it magnified its size with advanced mechanical technology. There was a shop with a blacksmith inside, even the grain in the shop's brown wood frame visible, even the yellow knots. The model expanded even more until the cloudman could walk into and investigate the city, able to study every detail as if he walked the city streets himself.

The hunters came to a level with Voyancer leading the way. They floated to the back, beyond cloudmen who spoke to metal devices attached to desks. The watchers viewed Repath Aos Vio from above with advanced technology, and they watched from a bird's eye view, using fog and clouds as agents, as spies. 

# Chapter 20

They came to a room with white walls and several chairs, a space as big as Euphos's stilt home. A metal box that seemed formed by magic resembled the contraption they saw in Apis's keep, but it was curvy instead of angular. Voyancer asked the hunters to rest while he prepared the machine. Euphos surmised that the cloudmen would be valuable assets to the forces attempting to destroy Phracia and asked, "Voyancer, do the cloudmen defend themselves often? There are many who would like to have this technology." Voyancer hit a switch and a picture grew, a replica of Repath Aos Vio, its black grasses stretching for miles.

"Many raid, but their weapons are futile against the defenses. We are always upgrading to stay one step ahead." Voyancer brought the picture into larger focus, and the hunters saw a Frissian forest, Euphos could not tell where. The machine projected black trees, black brush, as if the hunters stood in the forest, and Euphos craned his head to see the forest projected everywhere in the room. Animals moved in the background--a ditri, a tall prey beast, walked in the woods, pulling berries from the branches. Fowbip curled up on Bronty's feet, exclaiming, "Wow! That'th very neat, ithn't it, Mommy?"

"Sure is," Bronty responded, "but then my opinion doesn't count, does it?" She darted a look at Euphos but he didn't catch her whine--he was too busy staring at the forest.

"Where is this?" Euphos asked.

"This is inside the Urrerium, as we speak."

"Ah, Eudybium--why are you searching there?" Euphos asked. The picture moved, went up in the sky as if it came from what a bird could see.

"This is just where the machine is focused at this time. I need to find a source closer to the Wisperium," Voyancer said. "I want to see who and what the impressions are near Apis's keep."

"Source? You are viewing from different creatures?"

"Yes, we have many types, everywhere--many birds, flying creatures, and people, too."

"You said 'impressions,'" Bronty noted. "I believe those are the spirits' memories, their ways to remember."

"Nature spirits remember with impressions, yes, but we employ different technology to be able to see a location's history." Voyancer pushed a command series, and the hunters saw several figures materialize, people they did not recognize. They were mostly aristocrats in fine suits, with armored knights and working-class people. "We pick up vibrations, as all living things emit a certain type. They are kept as information inside the trees, grass, and vegetation. Life stores its life in every detail, and the trick is to be able to decode it. The technology is too complicated, and I do not know its details. I just know that we have compiled a vast library with it, and we will benefit from a search . . . and here we have it."

The point of view moved to Apis's keep, to the path that led to the wall. The machine replayed the prior events--the aristocrats riding up to the keep, Apis himself coming to the keep. They saw several animals moving about, even undead shamblers' battles with the guards, until they saw the wenzekai, and Gutto moving through the image. A long while passed, then they saw a very interesting figure, one that piqued the hunters' interest.

"Who is this? Can you bring that person back?" Euphos asked. Voyancer adjusted the controls and brought the figure back--a rider, a male, with Gutto, in a long black cape, with long black hair pulled to the back and dark eyes. Voyancer kept the picture still, the hunters studying every detail. The figure seemed perfect, like a statue, like the machine that stood in Apis's keep. It had flawless skin and hair, and a suit as perfectly stitched as the finest on Repath Aos Vio, even more perfect. The figure looked too perfect to be from Repath Aos Vio.

"I have an idea," Euphos said. "Can you move the picture to the Rat King's cave inside the Hemia?" Voyancer adjusted the machine and the picture flew to the Hemia, traveling above the same areas that the hunters had traversed, then moved to the inside, cutting its way to the cave. The aristocrats lit up when they saw the forest's insides, excited to get to see within the mysterious fog. Fowbip's eyes widened as the picture moved about the trees.

"You excited to see home, Fowbip?" Bronty asked.

"Yeth. You live here too, with Dad?"

"No, that's where you live," she answered.

"I live with you?" Fowbip asked, almost crying.

"Yes, you live with us," she answered as she gave him a hug.

"Why did you thay that I live there?"

Bronty sighed. "You live with us--I'm sorry." Fowbip's breath came in gasps as he pouted. He swam from Bronty's boots, doing the backstroke as he cried.

Euphos gave Bronty a stern look. "Can you shut him up?"

"Don't be rude--he's sensitive."

Fowbip hiccupped, then giggled like a lunatic when he learned to spin like a top with his new powers of movement.

"Would you look at this?" Voyancer marveled when he brought up a view from inside the Rat King's cave, a view that came from a rodent who doubled as a cloudman agent. The same dark-haired figure the hunters just saw in the picture from Apis's keep rode to the cave. Several more pictures came up, of seevers and other beasts moving to the cave, hunting prey, searching the cave. The figure rode with the Rat King at his side.

"That's as much as we can see," Voyancer said, "but I say that this figure needs to be identified. I'll see what I can do to find who he is."

"Let me bet that this figure is the mysterious force at Mount Rykus," Euphos said. "Schute must know what this is about. I do not believe that we just stumbled across the sun shields. Schute gave us the bounties, and he's got to know about this figure." Euphos anticipated battle with the mysterious man. "This is not just a simple bounty, and the more we find, the more it looks like this figure could be--"

"Phracia's true king," Bronty completed his musing. The hunters recalled Gutto's speech upon entering the foyer to Apis's home. "Gutto said that Phracia's 'true king' would rule forever and then said that he just ripped a man's throat out, and that the man could deposit ale right into his stomach."

"Apis, would you allow us to send researchers back to your keep to study the machine?" Voyancer asked. "I will ask to send a group to the Rat King's lair, to see what they might find." Apis agreed and the hunters traveled back to the cloud elevator.

"I would like to know about the machine," Euphos said, "and it would be best to get that information prior to traveling to the Ritual Mountains. I think that this figure may already be aware that his servants have been defeated, if he is indeed their king. That means we should hurry. We will just have to wait on that, though, for this figure is probably ready to battle us. The longer we wait, the more likely he will have a trap waiting for us."

"When research teams report their findings, they will update us," said Voyancer. "I agree--we must attack quickly,"

Fowbip floated along with his feet pointing to the sky above. "Hey, Daddy, where did you get the bootth? I want bootth, too."

For the first time Voyancer noticed Euphos's recurve. "Where did you get that bow, Euphos?"

"Ask me again if we survive Mount Rykus. If rumors are true, I might have prevented the Spectral Empire's destruction--it's a long story."

The hunters rode the cloud elevator back to Repath Aos Vio. Bronty gave Euphos several dirty looks during the trip, and Euphos riposted with dirty looks, too. But he focused all his thoughts to the task at hand.

\- * -

The ghost emperor walked the yard of the Asylum of the Wracked, watching a warrior commander, Vau Geru, guide forces to the asylum, then fight a massive beast, a beast that the ghost had made sure would find the asylum. The ghost blended with the lunatic spirits, babbled to himself, grabbing his head as if he fought to keep his conscious self together. To his surprise, Vau Geru defeated the beast when his forces were able to strike the beast in its vitals. This would not move the ghost's plans forward. But then a miracle happened. Inside a massive temple, a structure that stood but mere hours, a warrior slew Vau Geru, a spirit. The ghost did not see this warrior, for he stood beyond the temple when it happened. He learned of it when he came close, hearing the shouts.

Returning to the Orbitrarium, the ghost visited Jome, and his suspicions proved right. The warrior who slew Vau Geru was the righteous wanderer, the black-haloed traveler. The ghost hated this righteous spirit, but at the moment, he seemed to be doing the ghost's bidding. Vau Geru had threatened to destroy Spektros's spirit stock, the spirits they used to reanimate their defeated troops, and this wanderer had prevented that depletion. The wanderer must believe that Spektros wished to defend his cities, believed that saving the wracked spirits would help his country. The ghost laughed long, but not audibly, for he would never reveal any emotion. The laugh echoed in his thoughts. It was a naive spirit that slew Vau Geru, but righteous.

Prodocium burned while the Spectral forces were called back from the lines that guarded Eudybium. The ogres sacked the city and slaughtered every individual man, woman, and child. The news made it to Theodystynes, Thephobium, Trobia, to every state in the federation. The ghost would put Spectral forces in every major city, save Lectidomes, as he did not deem it wise to alarm this apparent "king" who controlled its people.

The ghost tracked the righteous spirit as he hunted and learned he was a bounty seeker. His foes slaughtered, this hunter could not be stopped, it seemed, with the will of the gods like wind in his wings. This Gutto character had helped to infest Phracia's roots with the cult; universities, temples, culture, military, governments. The resulting chaos had gripped Phracia, giving the ghost a perfect canvas to paint his own will upon. The locals could not keep the cracked cities together and were desperate to the point they sent their envoys to Spektros, to grovel at its gates, pleading to be given help. They would have had that very help if the ghost had not taken their local troops to help defend against the ogre 'threat.' The ghost laughed.

The ogres could invade only if the ghost pulled the troops from Eudybium, though recent developments revealed that Stum Igbo was prepared to launch a massive assault, Spektros's spies gathering this from their positions inside the ogre chief's courts.

A long-haired conspirator visited often, and he no doubt wished to get the ogres beyond the spectral defenses, so the ghost might just allow that. Then he could use the attacks to justify the Spectral forces taking all the cities, like Kleon. The ghost spoke to a skeletal aid who stood silent in a long red robe. "Command the forces at Eudybium to travel to the capitals, in every state, with forces to go to every major city as well, to tell the states that the ogres have broken through and are on their way. Keep a small defense force at Eudybium, for we don't wish to make this too easy--the ogres must believe we underestimate their strength."

If they removed all their forces from Eudybium, the long-haired conspirator, one Duke Nihilus Eternus, might suspect a trap and refrain from attacking. But the ghost would need the ogres to invade every state, giving the cities reason to hand control over to Spektros.

When the ogres destroyed the cities, governments would be glad to relinquish control to the Spectral forces, and Phracia would finally lie in the ghost's palm. The cult, Gutto's corruption, his agents rising to power in the schools, and Phracia's societal estates all helped bring chaos, with the final blow being the ogre invasion. _This duke is a clever conspirator. I may even let him ply his trades, working as my pawn,_ the ghost contemplated. The disruptions would give him rationale to take the people's rights, to take their weapons, to take their speech, to take their liberty, to make them his subjects, not equals.

The ghost enjoyed the Cult of Revolution, enjoyed the twisted logic they used to strike at their enemies. Why was there chaos in the cities? Because the people speak daggers, hurtful things. This means they must cease speaking about the crime, as it is the very speech itself that causes the brigands to do what they do.

Why was there chaos in the cities? Because the people are armed. If the bandits could not get weapons, there would be no crime. Don't allow the people to remember their history, when they armed themselves to repel undead, allowing peace and prosperity to arise for years, even centuries.

Why was there chaos in the cities? Because the people will not allow their betters to expand the watchers' apparatus, nor give their betters the power to look wherever, whenever to protect them.

Why was there chaos in the cities? Because the people do not trust their betters in all matters, because they are too suspicious, because they are "paranoid." Bas's scriptures are irrelevant--this would be a new era when there would be no reason to be fearful. There is too much technology to have to worry about tyrants--too many people watching. That kind of evil could never come about today. Fear is blocking utopia, not dictators. No fear, no hate, these emotions caused all the problems. Eradicate problems, eradicate suspicion. That chain that the guard just put on your ankle is there to keep you safe--don't worry.

The people's love--liberty--should be protection instead, for liberty is just a burden. The suspicious treasured liberty, and the ghost worked tirelessly to transform this love. The lazy and the stupid put up no fight. Letting someone run their lives would be much easier. Why should people fight to protect liberty, why should people ever die fighting for liberty rather than live under despots? The ghost would make sure the people asked these questions.

It surprised the ghost that the people readily threw their rights away, as if they did not understand their ancestors' plight. Dominating the people became easy--simply appeal to their emotions rather than fight them. In a battle, a rights taker would play the despot, while the people fought to keep liberty. But simply make the people value servitude, much easier than a fight, and you could avoid fighting altogether. Taking all Repath Aos Vio required only the right tactics, with physical battle employed to clean up the wreckage.

The ghost traveled back from Jome, the blasted lands, to the Orbitrarium in Spektros. He gripped his chair's arms tightly, anticipating his power. Black filled the chamber, the ghost's silvery body projected from his robe. He would bring silence to Repath Aos Vio forever.

\- * -

The hunters rode from Apis's keep to Lectidomes. Apis, Sim, Et, and Prikto joined Aos's paladins in trying to restore the Noble Hills. Euphos wished the nobles luck, for he knew as they did that Phracia's societal estates would still be dominated by the cult, and that they would need to regain control in academia, government, arts, media, military, and religion, if Phracia was to stand. The hunters discussed the events with the aristocrats, and despair gripped their tidings. The titanic task ahead would require vast resources, but the resourceful aristocrats would be just the types who would be able to restore Phracia. Still, the task would be daunting.

The hunters arrived at dusk, surprised to find that the paladins' reports that Lectidomes would be in chaos did not seem at first inspection to be true. Guards still stood the wall, and the open gate seemed to portend that everything would be fine. But when the hunters rode in, they saw guards marching through the streets, and people being shoved, and shouts came from everywhere. The calm had been deceptive.

Bronty saw a guard smash a woman's head against a lamp post. "Uh, I think we should not be here," Bronty warned.

Tric emerged from Euphos's cloak to light up the vicinity. Blood and clothes marked the city streets, and a guard squad spotted the hunters.

"Euphos," a man spoke out from the shadows. They searched the street for the speaker, then an aristocrat rode up to them. His fine cape and manicured steed looked pristine.

"Euphos, I am Lensus, city representative, Schute's friend, and Vursa's cleric."

Euphos recognized the title, for Schute had advised him to see Lensus if he met with trouble. "That is I, but one question: I am curious--just what led you to me?"

"Not many cloudmen come here," the man said, nodding in Voyancer's direction. "We must hurry, for Schute is coming, but we will not see the cleric if we stand here. Please--this way." Lensus turned and rode to a street north of them and the hunters followed, while the guards picked up speed, approaching the hunters at full march.

Lensus brought the hunters to an abandoned saloon near the city wall. Wood closed the saloon's windows, and a sign hung lopsided from one nail. Flaked paint collected in the gutter, and several cracked studs had folded so that the wind was able to blow inside. The hunters sneaked to the back, riding right inside the wide building, Lensus then pulling a cloth to hide the portal, closing a gate to seal it. Tric lit up the room to reveal a counter and several shelves, the contents having been raided by thieves long ago. Nobody worked here, probably hadn't for many years. They tied their mounts to studs Lensus pointed out to them. "We won't talk here," he said. "Please come with me."

Euphos did not have a way to identify the aristocrat as Lensus, but the aristocrat knew they traveled with a cloudman and had thus identified them. He could have received that information from another source, but Schute had described Lensus's physical appearance to Euphos, and he seemed to match up--tall, thin, balding.

"Bronty?" Euphos asked, one word saying it all.

"Yes, I believe he is who he says he is," she responded. Euphos had grown to trust the druid's insights, for she was ever careful about their safety. She hesitated even when they arrived at the paladins' fort, something that Euphos might not have believed appropriate. Her distrustfulness definitely made Euphos appreciate her input, and hearing her speech to the cult while at the Grey Fey's home gave Euphos the sense that she learned from life to distrust.

The hunters walked up stairs to the second story, where a bed, chairs, and a table filled the only upstairs room, the saloon keeper's quarters. Three windows gave them a view of guards with their torches. As the dark came, people fled the streets, for the guards enforced a curfew. Buildings at the periphery of their vision looked much the same as the shop, with graffiti, gaps in the roofs where bandits got in to loot. But then the street bandits had become guards, with the law backing up their crimes. The hunters sat at Lensus's request.

Euphos explained after whispering to his Tracker, who whisked off, "Tric's watching the gate, to warn us if we have--"

Euphos could not finish before a knock came from the gate. No window gave them a view, but Tric had flown up to the roof and then come back.

"Is it a guard?" Tric moved side to side. "We know this person?" Tric bobbled yes. "I think I know--Shebiss?" Tric lit up, as brightly as possible.

"He is the missing member, I presume--the warlock?" Lensus asked.

Euphos let Shebiss in, and they returned to the bedroom. "I saw you enter Lectidomes, from a building roof," Shebiss explained, "but I did not dare rent a room with the chaos in the city." Shebiss had teleported to a multistory bank building roof, staying above Lectidomes' wall to watch even their towers.

"Who is this?" he asked, referring to Lensus.

Euphos gave Shebiss the story. "Please tell us what you will," Euphos asked.

Lectidomes's elected leaders had confiscated the land from its farmers, in addition to taking the many shops. The guards took all weapons from the people and punished several people in the city square who hid their weapons, hanging the dissidents to a crowd's pleasure. The cult enveloped the city, even joining the guard force at the city leaders' behest.

"Chayzon Skus's treachery is in full view, with no pretenses as to his true aims," Lensus stated.

Euphos asked if he had heard about the events in Kleon. "Yes, Spektros seems to be capitalizing on it all, and the chaos gives both Skus and Spektros a reason to interdict. The question becomes then, is Lectidomes's government working with Spektros to take the cities?"

"I have just learned that ogres from Stum Igbo destroyed Prodocium in Eudybium," Voyancer informed them, having communicated with cloudmen agents telepathically. "Wherever you look there is chaos." The eyes of all in the room lit up. The ogres never made it beyond the spectral line at Eudybium--if they finally had, it could mean doom.

"Everybody benefits from the chaos," Euphos said, "so we will wait and see. It seems to me that it would be easier for the current state regimes to be able to flip to authoritarianism. If Spektros is against us, I don't see that Phracia has a future. They control the lines at Eudybium . . ."

"If Spektros lets the ogres in, say purposely," Lensus added, "the states will be at their mercy, and Spektros will have a reason to do to every state the same as to Kleon. Kleon may just be the prototype."

Lensus shifted the topic, moving toward a window. He had served the city his whole life--as a janitor in his youth, all the way to elected representative. Phracia's leaders would need to be principled, liberty-loving types, versed in Bas's gifts, if stability was ever to take root. Lensus met several people in his time that seemed to possess this love. But today the people and their leaders treated liberty like a scourge, and Lensus knew Phracia could not have a future with this people. _May the gods help us,_ he prayed, asking to receive divine power.

"Schute is coming," he continued, "but he will not come here--he will meet us in Graven. I can't stay in Lectidomes. It is inhospitable, and I ask that you come to Graven with me. You can embark to the Ritual Mountains from there, where it is safe. I take it you have defeated the first two bounties?"

The hunters affirmed this. Lensus drew a big breath and said, "You have to hurry. I believe that Schute knows more than we do about the bounties. May the gods be with you, because if they are not, I fear Phracia is doomed. God speed."

As they found their way out of the building, Euphos reflected on Lensus's fears. The hunter helped Cjonah and possibly Spektros when he defeated Vau Geru, and if Spektros indeed went rogue, then he might have just slit Phracia's neck.

Vau Geru kept the souls in his army rather than in the Spectral army, and that could be a good thing, if Spektros indeed calculated Phracia's destruction. Euphos seemed to find himself meddling in events beyond his stature. The sheer weight of the burden kept the hunter's heart thumping fast--why did he get involved in this? A woman appeared in his thoughts--dark hair--she pushed herself to Euphos, and he gripped her body, as in a dream.

The hunters rode to Graven at dawn, the trip taking the whole day. The people had built Graven on the Spectrul Sea coast, as a port city. Lensus owned a house in the hills about Graven, with a wall built to keep undead at bay. The hunters rested there the night, for Schute would come within a day, but the hunters would need to move. The trip to Mount Rykus would take the entire day, and they would need to find a walled town in the forest above the Rituals to avoid undead battles. Euphos pontificated about attacking at night, taking the undead risk to gain the advantage of surprise. Whoever lived in the Rituals would prepare to fight during the day, and Euphos never underestimated a foe and did not like getting locked to a strategy. Or it might be too risky to attack at dark.

That night Euphos visited Cjonah, the butler who identified Vau Geru's bow as Perpetuum. The bow derived its power from the assot wood grip, the magic charging up the arrow speed. Euphos picked a wood arrow, shot at a tree, and the arrow's velocity was so great that the wood burst into flame, cracking when it hit the tree.

"Euphos, let me shoot the bow," Cjonah asked. The butler shot several arrows, but they did not burst into flame. "This wood is feeding from the shooter. It uses the wielder's emotions to charge the shot, a quality special to the cursed wood. The stronger the shooter's emotions, the more powerful the shot. A better weapon could not be designed for you, Euphos." The wood drew from Euphos's wracked spirit, transforming his spirit's troubled design into a deadly weapon.

"The more screwed up the shooter, the more powerful the shot--wonderful," Euphos remarked. Cjonah's fletcher would craft stronger arrows of wood and metal, and would remove the grip from this bow, to attach it to Euphos's banewood bow. Cjonah contacted the fletcher spirit in his home, and he promised the modifications would be ready at dawn.

The hunters waited until first light, then rode. Euphos felt Shebiss's gaze and knew that their bargain would be good. Euphos still could not precisely remember the terms, but he knew the visions, the rogues dancing above, along the rooftops, motivated him to agree. Euphos could not say just who the rogues represented, but he knew they hid their motives, for they clouded his thoughts, like Phracia's grey sky, blocking a powerful memory that burned like the suns.

The road to Mount Rykus took the hunters from the Spectrul Sea coast above the Rituals to the Boote River. Thephobium's prairies rolled like the Spectrul waters. Black and white grasses grew together, and Euphos saw a white patch resembling an explosion, its rays extending in all directions as if artillery had struck the hill.

The hunters rose with the prairie as they made their way to the Boote. The path took them to a bridge and they traversed the waters. They saw several Spectral squadrons during their ride, more than usual, then came to a small town, Reizwid, built with the Rituals looming above it. The hunters rented rooms and slept the night, awakened by guards repelling wailing undead shamblers, a class that boasted many types--weird humanoid walkers, even animalistic, multilegged horrors with extra limbs that could help them run and slash. A debass, a ghostlike vibrating white vision teleported beyond the town defenses. It was not a spirit but energy built from terror that would strike with a force that could penetrate armor, stone, and metal.

Debasses would put victims in shock, which is why undead benefited from their presence. Shock the prey and then feed. Guards would need magic knowledge to combat the horrors, and the town guards drove the debasses from the streets with cure-fear spells, working like an attack when targeted at a debass. A paladin guard cast a gold tracing that engulfed a debass with radiant fire.

The hunters awoke at dawn, then surmised it would be best to attack come night, when their bounty would most likely not be prepared. If indeed their quarry controlled Gutto and the Rat King, he probably knew that the hunters had defeated his subjects. He would probably be waiting, maybe even tracking the hunters. They would then be in the worst possible position, attacking an enemy that knew they were coming. Euphos would have pursued the bounty in the Rituals first, with the knowledge the hunters had obtained. Euphos stayed inside the whole day, trying to come up with a tactic that would give the hunters an edge.

They would need stealth. Bronty could cast an obscure spell that would make it more difficult to detect the hunters. Euphos contacted a tailor to make tight black cloth suits specially fitted to the hunters. At dusk the black-clad hunters rode to the Rituals, to Mount Rykus, making it to the peaks at deep night. Euphos consulted Schute's map, and the hunters came to the mountain path that would take them up to the peak, where the map could not further guide them.

They trotted up the path quickly, hoping to avoid the undead that would stalk the land at night. "Bronty, please cast the obscure spell," Euphos asked.

Bronty painted a mask with long curves, much like a ball mask that hid eyes, like a rogue. She asked the spirits to distort their bodies, with dark wisps circling her staff. The hunters looked like a cloud, the disguise hopefully keeping undead from tracking them to the path. "This is a powerful spell," she said. "I will have to have time to recast it."

"That's fine--we just need to keep undead from spotting us," Euphos assured her, "then we'll investigate the bounty." Bronty's spell would last several minutes, long enough to get the hunters up above, though their target might already know of their plans. Tric flitted ahead, searching the dirt to find traps, tripwires, secret switches, pit traps. Shebiss cast a detect-magic spell, giving Tric a blue tint that would turn red if he came to a magic trap. The hunters climbed quickly, with a wide prairie to the right that filled the gap between Mount Rykus and the Rituals. The moons lit up the night, and the hunters could see much with Tric's halo illuminating the path's terrain. They rode as fast as they could, careful to let Tric do his job. Grey rocks with jagged edges lined the path, and black grasses grew in the cracks.

Mount Rykus stood alone, the Rituals traveling west from there and south to where they guarded the Nactral River as it ran to Obsess Bay and the Shushed Channel. As the hunters climbed, the sight became more beautiful, with Thephobium's white fauna lit like ghosts, the moons casting a wide view. Flying creatures, probably undead, attacked their rivals in the sky, and the dead and undead, the night/day revolution, abused the peace. Euphos saw his plight come to life above him, his joy becoming misery as the land reminded him that she slept at his side . . . 

# Chapter 21

Euphos shook his head, not because he knew an episode was coming, but because Tric came to a still up ahead, his Tracker's steady bobble suddenly seeming to hit a wall. When they came closer, the bounty hunters did see a wall, but not a stone wall--a magic wall. Tric became red like a fire when he got close to the barrier, Shebiss's detect-magic spell doing its job. They stopped and inspected the barrier, seeing that it stretched all the way up to a ledge above, as the path climbed. The barrier waved, almost undetectable, the terrain beyond visible but bent, as if the atmosphere had become a sea. Tric did not see the barrier, but he saw his projected aura become red and stopped just inches from it.

"This would seem to say that whoever controls this territory is unbelievably powerful, for this shield is massive--that is, if that's what it is," Euphos remarked.

Shebiss rode forward. "I do not believe any caster would be able to create such a shield this size. It could be a magic barrier that alerts the caster when it is breached. I am not aware that there is technology that could create such a barrier."

Bronty hopped from her horse to take a look. "I would say it's probably as Shebiss says, but it could be an illusion. We need to see the other side," she advised.

"I will enter," Voyancer said as he rode forward. "Shebiss, can you cast a recall spell? If it is a portal I would like to come back." Shebiss drew a circle in the dirt, adding pointed symbols that flared when he knelt inside and spoke to his patron. Shebiss marked Voyancer's wrists with symbols. Voyancer became a mist, cloud-like, as quiet as lake fog, the psionicist pushing his ability to its extreme. Then he moved to the barrier, then beyond it, vanishing from sight.

"Looks like it's not a shield barrier--good," Bronty remarked.

"Shebiss, can you tell if Voyancer is still here, in Thephobium?" Euphos asked.

"No, I can't."

Several minutes later the hunters breathed in relief when they saw Voyancer come back. He assumed his usual density and told them, "The path simply goes forward, but at the top, beyond the ridge we can see, there is a massive structure that isn't visible from this side."

"It's an illusion, a barrier that blocks the viewer from seeing beyond?" Euphos asked.

"Yes, it is at least that, but it could be as Shebiss described."

"It's possible that the barrier's owner detected Voyancer," Euphos noted to them all. "I would say that birds and such must do the same, flying beyond the barrier. Let's hope Voyancer looks like a ghost to the barrier watchers." Euphos tied his horse to a root. "We will enter, but not here. Instead of from the path, up above, where there is no path."

"What then, if this is an alert barrier?" Bronty asked.

"Shebiss," Euphos responded. Bronty's brow furrowed.

They tied their horses and climbed the slant, up to a relatively flat ridge. Fowbip made it known that his claws allowed him to tear up Mount Rykus with ease, scurrying between the bounty hunters several times as they fought to gain purchase. Fowbip gave Bronty his tail and hauled her up to the ridge while Voyancer simply moved up as mist. They came to the top, and Shebiss drew another ritual circle in the dirt, then teleported the bounty hunters beyond the barrier, taking his time to rest between teleportations. It was the same method they used at Gutto's keep. Euphos went first and found Mount Rykus looking just as they saw it from the other side, but beyond the barrier he saw a building above, a massive white temple.

Euphos and Tric stayed close, searching the terrain to find clues about who they would be coming to fight. The bounty hunters came together and Shebiss rested a while to regain power. Tric flitted above to check the temple, the path winding to the temple being the same path the bounty hunters would travel.

"They went to great pains to block this temple from view," Bronty remarked. "They could've cast a guard spell that didn't block it but still marked intruders."

"The barrier blocks casual travelers from seeing it, people not attempting to go to the top. But anybody attempting to scale Mount Rykus would see it, though that would not be many," Euphos answered.

Tric returned relatively quickly. Tric saw three people in the temple, not armed, Euphos taking Tric's calm state as a sign that the hunters did not have much to fear. The Tracker would give clues as to the situation with subtle cues, like a steady bobble.

The bounty hunters moved up to the temple ridge. "We've got no information, so let's get up there and see what these people know," Euphos whispered. "Get ready to fight."

They moved above the ridge and saw a wide campus built to allow parishioners room to pray. Several white stone statues and various robed figures stood in the yard, and there were benches for those who offered prayers. A massive flat ridge gave the worshipers room to have huge gatherings, with the main path giving them access to ridges at Mount Rykus's top. Euphos surmised that there must be a town at the top, because there weren't any close by on the lower slopes that would justify a temple this size. The white temple walls shone with a luster that could only be kept with magic, a crew always at work, technology, or maybe all three. The temple could also withstand direct attack from dragons, judging from its stone.

Euphos led the way, Tric still red with Shebiss's detect-magic spell, no doubt because divine magic filled the temple. The bounty hunters walked up stone stairs right to the inside. Smooth stone echoed as they stepped, and the hallway led to a huge chamber with stone benches built like steps for worshipers, fanning upward as they moved from the dais at the focus. Fowbip slid like a fish, his foot pads not able to grip the stone. Voyancer lifted him to carry him under his arm like a wood stack. They moved to the main chamber, then heard a voice. "We have waited long to see you, oh great savior--please take this gift from us." A white-robed priest walked to them, holding a fire-red gem in his palm. The priest knelt and raised his hand to Euphos. "Please accept this, my king."

"First, I need you to tell me who you are, and why you call me king," Euphos replied, taking on the formality the priest seemed to require. A second priest, blond, came forward with a book. He knelt at Euphos's feet with the book in his raised hands. "Please read this chapter, my king--chapter seven, verse thirteen."

Euphos glanced at the others, but they didn't say anything with gestures or speech. He read the priest's tome:

They came at night, three men and a woman, their pet, and a living torch. One carried the pet--he came from above, with the other man a servant, and still another a troubled warrior. This troubled warrior wished to bring peace to himself, but he could not, and he came to fight, the only way to escape his memories. This troubled man promised to defeat the Usurper, but he would not, and this warrior would be slain, the Usurper's blade would rend him. The warrior would bring the temple liberty, as he traded his life to the Usurper, and in return the Usurper breaks their chains, and tells them, "Stay where you are, but do not grow, that you might not disturb my rule and my ruled."

"I don't think I like this story," Euphos said, looking up. "I'm not ready to go just yet." The blond priest stood and waved at the third priest, a stockier man.

"This is the prophecy as written in the Raydus, and this is the tome that the Mount's people know. Duke Nihilus Eternus came, from the sky above, to conquer the people."

"Duke Nihilus Eternus, the Usurper?" Euphos asked.

"Yes, he came to Mount Rykus, destroyed the city, and took it as his own. The Mount's people must serve him--he forced them to swear this oath, as he agreed to spare their lives."

"Have you ever been wrong, in the Raydus prophecy?" Bronty asked.

"When we have been wrong, it was because we did not interpret its wisdom correctly. But we knew that you would come today, three days after the capital was conquered."

"Lectidomes," Euphos stated. "Who are you?"

"We are the Mount's people. We have lived here centuries, we worship the gods, but mostly we are the Raydus's pupils. We heed the tome that we came to possess here, and we built this temple."

"Who wrote the Raydus?" Euphos asked.

"The first citizen, the Mount king, Gustus Vi."

Euphos wanted to know if the Mount people would have the bounty hunters' best interests at heart, but they did not have much time.

"This barrier that obscures the temple," he asked, "do you know what it is?"

The third priest spoke. "It is there to safeguard the Mount people--if you touched it the duke would already know you are here, and he would have his guards here."

"Doesn't the duke know that we will come today? Wouldn't he have the Raydus, too?" Bronty asked.

"Yes, and that is why we must ask you to come with us. You can prepare--we will hide you." The bounty hunters' natural distrust kicked in, but the priest continued. "We are Vursa's clerics and will do as she wishes." Vursa's candle and flame decorated the priest's robes.

"Duke Nihilus Eternus may already know we are here," Euphos answered, "and there is no way to tell if you are leading us into his clutches. We will not--"

From behind him a voice called out, "Euphos, please do as they say--you do not have time." The bounty hunters craned their necks to see Schute emerge from the hallway.

"Schute?" Euphos did not believe his eyes.

Bronty cast a detect-illusion spell. "It's him."

The priests led the bounty hunters and Schute to a room behind the worship chamber. The priest then led them to stairs. They came to a room lavishly furnished, with several beds and tables and fine rugs everywhere. Torches warmed the room and the bounty hunters fought to be the first to speak to Schute.

Euphos held up a hand of command. "What do you know, Schute? Why did you give us bounties that miraculously have these sun shields and devices?"

"I can't tell you. I wish I could. Euphos, you must know that you have defeated powerful evil, and that you will bring peace, eventually . . ."

"I don't think you believe that, Schute. Did you hear about Kleon? Lectidomes? Prodocium? You have to tell us"--Euphos was pleading--"what this is. What do you know? Chayzon Skus is confiscating property, taking weapons. There is chaos everywhere."

"I am sorry, Euphos. You must trust me." Schute got closer to the bounty hunters. "You must proceed with the third bounty. You are about to uncover unbelievable evil, and if you defeat it, this will have great impact. Do not stop."

"Did you hear the prophecy in their tome, the Raydus?" Bronty asked. "It says Euphos does indeed defeat this duke, but that he does not survive. It might be easy to ask him to fight, but do you think he wishes to die?"

Euphos did not tell Bronty, but he might have a way to live and still defeat the duke.

"Promise me, Schute," Euphos bluffed, "that if we defeat the duke, you will tell us everything. If you don't I will go home, and I'll wait until Phracia simply crumbles."

Schute lay on a bed and stared at the ceiling a long while. "I promise you that I will attempt to tell you. I do not guarantee that I will be physically able to. There are forces with us that may not let me."

The bounty hunters were silent.

Euphos leaned back in a chair. He would need Cjonah's help, but his plan would allow him to fulfill the Raydus's prophecy while keeping his life.

"We will fight this duke," he said, "but I need time to put together a trick that will allow me to live up to the prophecy and still be able to keep my life. I would like to live longer, at least until I can sew up things that need it." Euphos's plan raised everyone's eyebrows, and Fowbip thought he heard Euphos say he would sew Tric to a duke.

"Daddy, why would you thew Tric to the duke?"

Euphos's brow furrowed. "What?"

Fowbip lay on a bed as Schute had done, then convulsed like a lunatic. After a bit he froze, then looked up at the bounty hunters to see what they thought. Shebiss shook his head. "You are too stupid to know you are stupid." Bronty gave the warlock a dirty look.

Euphos inked a scroll to Cjonah and then contacted the Storied Lighthouse. The Lighthouse helped Euphos, traveling back to Vilewood to bring Euphos's written request to Cjonah. _Cjonah, supposedly the Spectral Empire is recruiting souls to fill their ranks. Do you know where I can find a way to join them? We must hurry --thank you._ Cjonah inked a scroll then sent it back with the Lighthouse.

_They recruit spirits from the asylum, as you know. They will come --they do often--and when they do you will know it. Stay where you are. It may take three days, maybe longer._ Euphos read the scroll, thanking the Lighthouse.

The bounty hunters discussed the plan in their secret room. "I need three days, maybe longer," Euphos said. "The Spectral Empire recruits spirits to reanimate their deceased troops, and they get the spirits from the Asylum of the Wracked, a sanctuary for troubled spirits. When they come I will join them, and they will send my spirit back to Repath Aos Vio, to fill a body. Shebiss, can you give me a recall mark that I can attach to this new body that will allow you to recall me back here?"

Shebiss unsheathed his blade, raised his hand, and his eyes became black. The marks on Voyancer's wrists detached like rolling parchment. He transformed them into two cloth pieces.

"Thank you," Euphos said. "I will attach these to my new body, then recall. This way I can use the new body to fight the duke, according to the Raydus, where I will be defeated. My body will still be in this room, and I will detach from the new body when it is destroyed and reenter my own."

"You just described that you are able to detach your spirit from your body?!" Bronty asked, perturbed. "When did you learn to do this? Why don't we know about it?"

"It's a long--" Euphos began.

"We get it, it's a long story. You've been taking 'trips' at night, when we're sleeping?" she challenged. Euphos didn't say anything.

"I think I know where you got that bow," Voyancer remarked.

"You need to tell us just who you are," Bronty barked. "I can't fight with you if I don't know who you are. Schute, you? Do you know who he is?"

Schute closed his eyes. "We will have this talk again."

Euphos glared at Schute. The bounty hunter had known the cleric for a long time, Schute being Vursa's powerful, trusted devotee who would always have Euphos's best interest at heart, mostly because the cleric knew that Euphos would reciprocate. As much as Euphos would want to bind the cleric until he gave them everything he knew, the bounty hunter knew to trust Schute. The cleric gave him a life, his bounties helping Euphos build his life, with his home in the swamp, and with his . . . Euphos blanked.

Bronty saw the vacant stare and knew Euphos had lapsed again. "Oh no. We are not going to stop talking here with Euphos in a fit. I'm starting to think Euphos does this on purpose to redirect the topic."

The bounty hunters waited eight days at the temple. Then the Storied Lighthouse came to Euphos, declaring, "It is time."

Euphos went back to the asylum, and Vau Geru's forces returned to their native homes, but the asylum still grew. The asylum gained residents every day, as more and more Wracked Souls came from the astral edges, though no days would be counted, no nights--just eternal night.

This is why the spectral servants came to the asylum. Euphos saw the servants, figures in long dark robes, in iron masks with eye and mouth slots.

The figures came with no vehicles, alone. They approached the yard and spoke to the spirits. Euphos moved toward the yard, and as he flew the spectral earth at his feet deformed, as if he pulled a plow along. The trench grew as he moved.

"Gods above, my spirit is distorting the land everywhere, not just in the Spectral Canyon," Euphos cursed. "I have to talk to Cjonah about this." The spectral servants moved about, speaking to the spirits when Euphos saw their bodies flash, then move fast, then slow, then freeze, much as the Bo Euphos fought in the spectral prairie. It took a moment to understand why.

"My spirit is even warping time, so I must hurry." This new development disturbed Euphos. His spirit bent the spectral material and time's fluid nature. He felt his spirit body pulse like a heartbeat, unbelievable tension taking his body as if his spirit would detonate from its antagonistic structure. Euphos calmed his spirit as much as he could and approached a spectral servant. "Might I ask why you are here?"

The spectral servant sized up Euphos and replied, "We are here to find souls that wish to become material again, and you look fit to the task."

"What do you mean?"

"We would make you a warrior again, as it looks like you are a warrior."

"Yes, I am very skilled with a blade. Who would I be fighting?"

The spectral servant turned his gaze on Euphos fully, believing he might have a candidate. "You will be fighting as a Spectral Empire asset."

"Who is the Spectral Empire?" Euphos asked. The spectral servant asked Euphos to wait, saying they would interview the asylum spirits and then take the potential recruits back to the spectral thirteen, the structure where spirits would be prepared to be sent back to fleshly vessels.

Euphos waited a long time while the spectral servants gathered many spirits from the yard, intending to travel to the spectral thirteen when they collected a quota. Many spirits joined the servants, and the procession flew up to the eternal night, a flock moving to better country.

They traveled many hours, finally arriving at the thirteen with a servant greeting party there to get the spirits up to the task. Apparently, the servants would need time to get the spirits in shape, as they would become Spectral Empire units--warriors--not just anybody.

The servants led the spirits to a massive hall. A spectral servant in a long red robe stood at a podium as the spirits were guided to neat lines. "You will become Repath Aos Vio's most elite fighting force, unrivaled in discipline and power, unrivaled in power because you are unrivaled in discipline," he said, the boom from his speech echoing everywhere in the massive hall. The servants divided the spirits, taking a division to a chamber where they attached long metal cables to the individual spirits. At the spectral servants' behest, the spirits felt energy waves move along their anatomy, causing wrenching agony, like a skull being crushed while the man was still conscious.

Euphos blanked when the energy hit his spiritual nerves, an ability that he did not know he possessed. He wished he would've discovered this ability earlier, when malevolent spirits raked their teeth, claws, and blades along his back. Euphos withstood the pain, while many spirits buckled, and a spectral servant came close. "You are a powerful soul, so you will be a leader." The servants led the spirits from the chamber to several more, testing the spirits.

The spirits suffered a test battery in which they saw spectral warriors being impaled and other battle views created with magic. The spirits learned to wield a xocos, a spectral unit sword made short to thrust, in close quarters, where the phalanxes clashed. The spirits hoisted the ibeums, long shields that protected their compatriots and themselves. And the servants marched the spirits to mock battles, teaching tactics already familiar to many of them. After three days, the spirits received a qualifying rank, then got ready to deploy. Euphos received an upper rank and would be occupying a unit leader's body. He gripped Shebiss's recall marks, ready to travel back to the temple at the right time. The servants called the spirits to a special chamber in the spectral thirteen. From there they would be sent to Repath Aos Vio.

The servants put the spirits into a machine, many capsules inside a massive metal frame marked with esoteric runes. Euphos moved to a capsule and waited a long while until spirits filled the other capsules. The servants locked the capsules with a lever, then one turned on a magic machine. A rumble rocked the chamber, then Euphos felt his spirit burn, flashing visions. Then he could feel hot steam rising, hissing, from fissures in black rock, vapor jets. He could feel skin, muscles, bones again and found himself in a newly resurrected body, staring at a crevasse with volcanoes hissing everywhere he could see. At his back stood a Spectral phalanx, shiny black armor like the cooling magma that stretched in all directions.

The troops stared ahead, in lines, waiting to hear Euphos speak. The bounty hunter thought about staying wherever the spectral servants stationed him, to get a better picture, possibly insight about the Spectral Empire's objectives, but he put the recall marks on his wrists instead.

Euphos stood at the path again, looking up at Mount Rykus. The priests helped move the bounty hunters' horses to the temple, using magic to teleport beyond the barrier. Priests arrived, verifying Euphos's new body, and they teleported back to the temple and the bounty hunters met, with Euphos's own body unconscious on a bed. Staring at his sleeping self, Euphos saw his body from a stranger's eyes, struck with observations he did not have when looking at his reflection in mirrors. His strong cheeks and jaw, rather than masculinity, projected pain, the angles too sharp. His features seemed to give the impression that Euphos would be crushed under pressure, his nose and pointed brow ridge giving him a defeated guise. Euphos would be reluctant to believe a man that resembled himself, if decisions about ability were to be made on looks alone.

"You are a bit stockier, and your hair redder, and I think you look smarter," Schute said.

"Be careful, fat boy--let's not talk about the burden that belt must bear," Euphos snapped. The bounty hunters discussed with the priests their strategy to defeat the duke.

"The best hope to reach the duke will be inside his keep," the blond priest explained. "He rarely appears, and when he does, it is to watch his worshipers from the keep turret, above." He pointed to the duke's keep on a peak above their temple. The priests detailed a plan to get inside the keep when the worship leaders returned--the bounty hunters could hide in their ranks, become the shadows. "We have prepared a strategy in anticipation that you would arrive with a dark-magic caster, as there are verses in the Raydus that detail this. With this, he should be able to grant everyone the power to join the dark."

The priest palmed a spider figurine. "This is Vissiseid, shadow king. Its shadow engulfs whomever it touches. You can travel from shadow to shadow, as the black priests cast shadows when the moons are bright. You must leave today, while the moons smile."

The bounty hunters gathered their weapons. Euphos's black spectral armor would serve him well in battle, though he would die no matter what. He wiped dirt from his pauldrons, for dirt obscured the winged spirit with the blades-crossed symbol, the Spectral Empire's symbol. He sheathed his long blade, strapped his quiver to his back, and gripped Perpetuum. The bounty hunters equipped themselves, too, and made their way to the worship chamber.

The priests met them, tears filling their eyes. "We love you, our king, and you will always live, ever, for eternity."

Euphos scratched his red beard, still trying to familiarize himself with his new body.

The cloudmen's technology allowed the hunters to find that a long-haired figure had visited the Rat King and Gutto the Shiner. According to the descriptions the Mount's priests had given Euphos, the hunters saw Duke Nihilus Eternus--he matched the descriptions perfectly. The Rat King and Gutto both conspired to destroy Phracia, to corrupt its people, and this would likely be why the duke corresponded with them, Euphos predicted.

"You are good men, and we will fulfill the Raydus's prophecy, we hope," Euphos responded. "Please guard my body, and may Vursa guide us today." Euphos was not sure Repath Aos Vio could be saved, but Euphos had met three more righteous men, to make the total seven. Euphos looked again at the figure on the bed and mused about his own body, and the sorrow that had shaped its features.

The bounty hunters traversed a slope up to a ridge. The well-traveled paths that cut in the mountain were many travelers wide, and the path network spread like veins visible as they climbed above the Mount people's temple. Dark came, and the hunters aimed to reach the duke's keep during the night. They pulled their black suits close to shield the piercing wind unbroken by the low brush dotting the mountain. Fowbip even felt the frigid touch, and Euphos cut a cloth piece from his suit, then arm holes, fitting it to Fowbip like a vest. Bronty warmed at Euphos's gesture, for he seemed to view the seever as an asset rather than an idiot. Fowbip stared at Euphos a while, wondering just why this stranger made him a cloth suit. He forced himself to think about where his daddy might be, thinking itself being a strenuous task for Fowbip.

_He still needs to warm up to Fowbip, though,_ Bronty mused. No doubt Euphos would rather keep Fowbip at the temple, where he could not do any harm, but the creature seemed to bring life to their hunt, helping to keep the hunters pliable, his lunatic behavior boosting their good spirits. Long hunts could drain a hunter, sapping strength, and the tedious and dangerous tracking often causing the hunter to pursue a guaranteed return in another livelihood, to become a merchant or a farmer. Bronty took up bounties while still at home, since local bandits had murdered her family, her mother and father. Bronty searched Rontus Pikaurus with no clues, for the bandits were masked and had not left much to find, and she never came close to any leads. Druids generally did not seek reward, but Bronty had found no other way to deal with her grief. Protecting others from the hurt became her drive to hunt the guilty, to prevent the chaos from taking more people, taking everything.

Tric flitted at their feet and became red like a torch, to mask any trait that could distinguish the hunters from the worshipers. As they neared the keep, the hunters could see the duke's people gathered on a ledge, their black robes resembling the hunters' black suits. The keep shone like a star, reflecting the worshipers' torches. Its walls could have been made by magic, for the metal was perfectly cast, its angles precise and perfectly polished. The path snaked to the ledge, and Euphos could see bartizans protruding and surmised that the duke could be watching. The duke's keep sat at the tip of a peak, and the priests believed its bulk rested inside the peak, with the visible structure just the crown of a debauched king's body. The tales about the keep included a dungeon, devil-operated, with abducted worshipers' flayed bodies serving the duke's deviant desires.

Purple sky framed the keep as the dark came. The path climbed, with branches providing access to several more ledges. A ledge ahead swarmed with foul shadows with horns and claws. The moons lit up metal bars, revealing that the whole ledge served as a prison, trapping things inside that Euphos could not see.

Shebiss pulled the spider god Vissiseid from a pouch, asking, "Are we ready to join the shadows?" The hunters kept close, and the warlock raised the spider to the sky, its shadow cast giving him the energy to expand his powers. The shadow grew, not just expanding but gaining mass as if it would become a living being, rising from the path until it cloaked the hunters. Euphos felt the dark touch his skin, and it was surprisingly warm as it shrouded him and all the hunters. They stood in the same spot, viewing the worshipers from the safety of the dark veil.

Above, a figure shifted on a balcony, and a being watched the hunters become darkened. His metal suit, armor, was crafted to a precise size with machines Repath Aos Vio did not know. Its special circuits gave the being the ability to see details from his keep that only the most specialized hunters could normally see. Duke Nihilus Eternus's long black hair contrasted with his ivory skin--maybe grave white, star white. His dark eyes were perfect rectangles, like those of a stylized statue, his jaw perfectly square as if etched with a carpenter's tools. The duke did not belong with the unwashed hordes, but he would control Phracia, and its people would become better, superior beings much like himself. The duke would be a prototype.

The hunters moved toward the worshiper ranks, disguised by their shadow. A worshiper walked from the ridge path toward the keep, his own shadow drawn with inky black. When he came close, the hunters moved toward his shadow, blending theirs with his as he approached, then quickly merging with the keep shadows to avoid detection. Etchings in the keep walls fascinated Euphos--warriors in reticulated armor wielding tools and hand cannons, battling warriors with similar equipment.

They moved along the keep's wall within the shadows of the guards at the top. The steep angle of Mount Rykus and the Rituals was even more visible at this altitude. Metal plates fitted to the stone blocks of the keep would provide defense against projectiles, and the sturdy keep could repel most armies with the massive javelins that perched atop its parapets, ever watchful. Keep guards cranked a drawbridge and the hunters stayed close to the figure they followed and moved inside. A chapel and several massive ogre guards appeared in the keep yard, the ogres eight feet tall, with pasty green skin and thick skulls and skeletons, their physiques bulbous but not muscular, though they would possess superior strength because of their sheer bulk. They would be terrible forces in battle, if not quick.

Not many ogres called Phracia home, and an ogre guard unit seemed to hint that the duke had acquired relations with Stum Igbo. The ogres were stationed everywhere and gripped oversized long blades, axes, and shields, their mail better fitted than usual--the duke's resources obviously equipped the ogres with the best possible defense. Euphos could feel his spectral armor yanking at his shoulder as he attempted to attune his spirit to his new body. Euphos's spirit knew every last detail of his own body, but he would need time to get a feel for this warrior's bones and muscles. Though Euphos often tested his strength, purposely carrying more supplies and suiting up to prepare to battle powerful foes, the mail felt awkward. His new body seemed to carry the weight with no problems, and no doubt the warrior had fought often, for his strength was precisely tuned to the weight. 

# Chapter 22

The hunters hopped from the guard shadows and moved up a wall until they came to a walk at the top, with several turrets built along its length. The priests had noted that the duke probably spent his time inside the keep, in the central building within the yard. Several torches lit up the keep, revealing the shadows of buildings, staircases, a barn, and there was plenty of room to hide the hunters. They were climbing a staircase when the torches flickered then suddenly went dark, and the hunters froze when the yard became black.

_They know we 're here, in the shadows,_ Voyancer conveyed worriedly to Euphos.

"Move," Euphos said quietly but urgently. The hunters rushed up the staircase with Tric lighting up the stairs. The hunters could no longer hide in the shadows, and if the torches lit back up, they would be seen. The staircase came to a turret at the right, with a parapet built to provide access. They quickly moved inside hoping that they wouldn't find . . . and they bumped against a massive ogre at watch, only his feet visible. Tric lit up the turret perch.

Voyancer gripped the ogre's psyche and found it fragile, not very developed. Euphos pushed his long blade into the slumbering body, his thumb and forefinger smashing up against the crossguard. Then he pounded the pommel with his palm, sinking the blade until it had punched a hole through the ogre's back. Tric raised up, giving a better view, and Shebiss stood back and then decapitated the ogre, whose head tumbled from the turret perch, bouncing around until it dropped into the center of the turret staircase. The hunters waited a long time before they heard a thud, seemingly too long.

"We are dead meat--" Shebiss started to say when the torches flashed to life.

"The duke knows we're here," Voyancer announced. "I didn't think he would with the spider god."

"Why is he letting us in his keep?" Shebiss asked, wiping his blade. "No doubt he's got a copy of the Raydus and access to the Mount people's interpretations. He would've known the exact day we arrived."

"Well, then, let's find him and get this over with. He must know that he eventually grants the Mount people their liberty," Euphos said. "That is, if he isn't trying to do just what I am, which is to remake the prophecy. In that case the Mount people could be doomed. We do not have time to wait." Euphos cursed inwardly, knowing that the duke probably knew the hunters would be coming.

Clanking metal sounds came from the parapets, and Shebiss looked from the turret window and reported, "Ogres, lots, from both directions."

"Looks like we're going down. Tric, lead the way," Euphos ordered, hurrying to the turret's spiral staircase with the hunters in tow.

"Gee, Daddy, ith that who you are?" asked Fowbip. "You look different? I thought you were, well, uh . . ."

"Keep close," Euphos told everyone. "Let's go."

The hunters rushed down the stairs, which extended below the keep yard, many more stories, which explained why the ogre's head took so long to hit bottom. A group of ogres entered the turret at ground level from a portal, but the hunters were already beyond them, far below. The ogres smashed down the stairs, their bulky bodies too big to fit the turret staircase comfortably.

"There goes our surprise--they definitely know we're here," Bronty remarked.

Euphos felt a change as they descended. "Is it just me or is it getting hotter?" he asked. They all felt the rise in temperature. Tric did his best to detect traps as they rushed, but at this rate, they would most likely soon find themselves in an ogre trap, with the brutes at their backs and waiting at the bottom. Euphos let the hunters go forward, then filled stairs with grey caltrops, extra sharp, almost undetectable. Suddenly an ogre flew by, plunging to the turret bottom, his booming yell indicating that Euphos's caltrops had done their job.

They were close. When they got to the bottom they found the one ogre's head, and the body of the second ogre doubled on itself, the impact having snapped the ogre's neck. The hunters were inside a labyrinth, judging by the number of hallways they could choose to explore. Torches lit dark stone halls that the ogres would just be able to fit inside, maybe having to duck. Bronty looked up the turret, knowing another ogre would arrive shortly, and above him a new group of ogres were coming. "Let me give them a surprise," she urged.

Bronty picked a bug from Fowbip's fur, put it on the stairs, and told them, "I'm going to amplify this harlot fly's mating call until every male within miles comes to investigate." Bronty's staff lit up, and an inaudible sound grew louder until it drowned out all other harlot calls in a wide arc across the land. Within seconds the flies had flitted inside the turret, the call rousing aggressive behavior among them. Male harlots fought to get to their mate, their vicious tongue-like stingers piercing the ogres' hides with a poisonous, welt-causing fluid.

"That will keep them busy," she announced. "Now which way do we go?" A murmur came from a chamber in a hall to the right, so the hunters moved toward the chamber.

A robed man was standing inside a wide room, symbols on his purple robe's hem indicating that he would be a caster. Many more men stood around the caster, dressed casually in simple britches and frocks. The caster spoke incantations, drawing red tracings in the air, then cast several spells at once. Red energy engulfed the men, moving into their mouths like ale until their hair turned black. A short time later, the caster said, "Talk to me."

A man spoke. "My name is Bine Wils, and I am here to report to you that all is well in the land--"

"Good, good, you may be dismissed," the caster said, and the man exited the room. The caster did much the same with the others.

The psionicist's hands were at his temples. "You should know this," he said to Euphos. "This magic user, he is enchanting these men, in particular their speech." Voyancer paused, as if he could not believe what he saw in their psyches. "They are able to corrupt people with speech."

Brows furrowed. "I recognize the spell, and it is a corrupt-desire spell," Shebiss added.

"Their speech causes a corruption of sexual desire," Voyancer continued. "It causes people to desire sex with strangers only."

"Voyancer, who are the dark-haired men?" Bronty asked.

The psionicist pierced their psyches. "They are"--he paused--"town criers?"

Euphos saw the conspiracy. "They are corrupting the people's sexual desires, and who knows, maybe for a very long time, and crowds at a time."

The town criers would bring the news, corrupting their victims' feelings powerfully, sexually. "What does the duke have to gain from this?" Bronty asked.

"Just another way to destabilize society," Euphos answered. "Gutto corrupted the people when he invaded the military, schools, government--even religion, Phracia's backbone. The Rat King destroyed Kleon. The cult corrupts people with plays, music, and proselytizing. The duke wrecks society, corrupts people's desires, and causes them to behave even more like wayward cultists. The whole strategy is aimed at one thing . . ."

"He is preparing his quarry," Shebiss remarked.

More crashing came from the turret stairs as ogres battled the harlot flies, hit Euphos's caltrops, then tumbled, forming a pile of bloody ogres. The hunters moved to the hallway that snaked north, back toward the keep from the bottom where they were at the moment. With the Raydus, the duke would know they were coming, the worst possible scenario. The Raydus guaranteed the battle would be difficult.

They rushed to the hall, the air became even hotter as they went. Tric doubled back quickly, seeking traps, when three figures blocked the hunters' way. Very thin, wiry warriors, their arms and legs like metal ropes, with divisions every inch. Their dark cloaks obscured their nature, but the hunters could see they were not alive. Euphos suspected metal golems, but he could not be certain--the duke seemed to be from beyond Repath Aos Vio.

"Why don't we just use the spider go--" Bronty could not finish for the torches went dark.

"Tric!" Euphos yelled, and he lit up like a sun, more like a star in the night sky.

"We've got shadows again, Shebiss!" Bronty hinted. Shebiss grabbed the spider figure but couldn't cast, for the metal fighters struck, their arms becoming blades, almost slashing his neck. Shebiss dodged back, then drew his blade to deflect another attack.

"We're going to have ogres behind us very soon," Voyancer warned. Euphos nocked a metal arrow and fired with Perpetuum, the arrow melting faster and the air in the halls becoming hotter with the shot. The metal fighter exploded as Euphos's arrow shattered it.

Bronty called on tiny algae spores embedded in the stone, asking the spirits to grant them the power to multiply faster. Her staff lit up bright green and the algae spread like spilled water, filling the hall with a green trap behind the hunters. Voyancer rushed to the metal fighters, drawing their attacks. At the last second, he turned to fine mist and their blade arms whistled harmlessly into his body. This gave Shebiss time to morph his blade with dark fire, and he slashed a fighter with the blade, its hot edge melting a gash without the blade ever touching the fighter. The metal fighter tripped, its leg almost almost severed at the hip from Shebiss's strike. Euphos attempted to sweep the other fighter's feet with his blade, but it dodged and struck Euphos with a fist, knocking Euphos against the wall.

Several ogres barreled into the hall, but when they stepped on the green patch of algae slime layer they slipped, harlot flies still clinging to them, attacking them until welts swelled every inch of their bodies. When the algae got into the ogres' bites, it spread its poison, and the ogres convulsed while being stomped to death as others crashed into the pile.

Euphos thanked the spectral thirteen, for the armor helped deflect the fighter's strike, and he recovered quickly, able to spin wide as he bounced from the wall, then hack the fighter with his blade on the back swing. Euphos's strike didn't do much to the fighter, but Shebiss lunged with an attack that cut the fighter from neck to arm, and it lurched around until it clanked into the wall.

The hunters wasted no time and pushed on, the temperature rising as they got closer to where the duke's keep would be. Perspiration built under Euphos's armor, and even Fowbip could feel the oppressive rise. They came to another hub, with hallways in every direction.

"We should be close?" Bronty ventured. The turret staircase did not stray from the keep, and Euphos calculated they would be directly under it.

"We could go back into the shadows," Bronty suggested.

"At this point, there is not much use hiding," Euphos replied. "The duke is controlling us like cattle." The hunters waited while Euphos finished his theory. "The torches, the ogres, the metal golems--they were put here to move us in a specific direction."

"Are you saying we should just wait until the duke prompts us again?" Voyancer asked.

"I don't see why we should wait--he's pushing us into a trap," Euphos replied. "I'm done playing this game." He stabbed his long blade into the hallway tiles and the blade vibrated but stayed upright when it pierced the stone. "We're here--let's finish this!" he yelled.

Tric flitted nervously, surprised that Euphos would take such a direct tack. "Let's do as the Raydus prophesies!" the hunter yelled.

Fowbip wrapped around Bronty's ankles, then his eyes against her calf while shaking like a child.

"Fight, or we simply run to live another day in this chaos!" Euphos declared. There would not be other days if Phracia crumbled.

Shrieking sounds echoed like rusting wagon wheels, a whole city full, turning at the same time. The hunters felt a vibration at their feet, then metal sounds echoed, latches locking, arms moving, hinges sliding, and stones moved. Suddenly the walls moved, detached from the walkway, as though titans pulled the sides from the hallways like the panels of a paper box. Hot air rose and burned, bright red lighting up a massive chamber bigger than the keep, with fiery magma pools filling the vast chamber floor. The hunters did not move, for the hallway at their feet had become a block suspended above the magma with myriad chains and hooks on the chamber walls. A step in any direction would send the hunters into the molten rock.

Flames arced around the chamber, their oppressive waves choking the hunters, and Euphos unstrapped his armor, for its padding made the temperature even more oppressive. Above, at the keep ceiling, it was evident the duke had built his keep around the magma pool, using it to both warm his chambers and torture his foes.

"About that trap," Shebiss remarked, "I think you're right." The block rocked as the hunters fought to keep their footing, and Euphos gripped Perpetuum with an arrow nocked and ready. No one spoke for a long while, then they saw Duke Nihilus Eternus, the figure they had seen on the displays in Voyancer's home.

He walked to a throne built on a ledge above the magma pool and assumed his rightful role. "The only question I have is, who sent you on the bounties?" The duke's tone was not natural--a disturbing vibration came with his speech, as if he were an insect, one that could talk. "You cause me much aggravation."

The duke stood seven feet tall, his long black hair extending down his back. Euphos had never seen armor the like of his, precisely fitted to the duke's body, reticulated as if a living being itself, replete with muscle and skeleton. His bright blue cape dragged behind him, but there were no other decorations beyond the very fabricated alien armor design.

Euphos fired a metal arrow and the duke raised an energy shield around his throne so the arrow ricocheted against a wall. "You've got no hope, bounty hunters," the duke said. "Just tell me what I want to know--who sent you?"

Euphos remembered all at once Gutto the Shiner talking about the "true king of Phracia." This would be the duke. He had hired Gutto and the Rat King to destroy Frissian cities, to corrupt their traditions and law. Why else? The duke would come in after the chaos reigned and take the cities with his . . . ogres. Euphos began to see the big picture, in full detail.

"I will trade you," Euphos replied. "I will tell you who, if you tell me what you believe in. You will have to go first."

The duke stayed silent a long while, most likely weighing the bargain. "I believe that life is irrelevant," he said, finally. "Everything returns to energy, and whether that energy is grouped as beings--such as elves, dragons, fey, even trees, metal, water--is irrelevant. This is what Repath Aos Vio must know, that their beings' lives will become energy, and that their time is insignificant. This way they will not cling to their ways. They will not fret when any one of their groups is eradicated, because they--we--are all energy. They distinguish themselves from one another, but they are all just energy."

"Ah yes, the whole," Euphos mused with a mocking tone. "The divisions, the particulars, are not relevant, so why bother with the unique, why even attempt to preserve, because in the end we become dust, no different from dirt? The time spent alive is not important, for Repath Aos Vio will live longer than any being. The individual is temporary, and thus his life is immaterial." Euphos got serious. "I can see why Phracia is being destroyed, and I would ask you, what is the point of ruling if we all become dust? Why do you even bother?"

"It is because I am not time bound," the duke replied. "I will live on. When all Repath Aos Vio is dust, and its beings are dust, I will still be."

"You must enjoy watching the dust piles--why live an eternity on Repath Aos Vio?" Euphos asked.

"I am here to help its people become better."

"That's the catch, isn't it? You and the cult are natural kin, for you wish everything to become dust again, as do they."

The duke raised an eyebrow, and Euphos went on. "The cult believes that differences divide us, cause people to fight, and because this is the case, we must destroy tradition, the unique peoples. But when this happens only chaos ensues, because people are not allowed to be with like-minded people and the peoples do not bind together. Not allowed to divide, the people cannot produce unique gifts, and all progress is halted. This causes more fighting and tension, so then there will be calls to eradicate more differences--between men and all other types of life. They will say, 'This will surely bring about utopia because there will only be one type of life.'

"This finally destroys the differences that all life depends upon, between hunter and prey," the hunter continued, "and halts progress that arises when people are allowed to be unique. More chaos ensues, so this brings about calls to eradicate all life, bring about a return to dust, where everything lives together. Holistic thinking returns us to destruction, a return to dust, where all difference is eradicated. It wishes to see the gods destroyed, because they divide, for with the gods there are different sects and worshipers."

He paused. "But this is the point where the Frissians will become blasphemous, where they anger the gods, and where they will incur their wrath."

"Who sent you?" the duke responded. Euphos felt his talisman vibrate.

"Voyancer, he is trying to pierce my psyche," Euphos said quietly.

Voyancer went into Euphos's psyche, to attempt to defend it, and reported, _I have never seen psionics like this. I don 't even think this is psionics._ Voyancer attempted to scan the duke but could not penetrate his defenses.

The hunters scouted around the block they stood on but found there would be nowhere to go if they jumped, for magma filled the chamber. The only escape would be to swing to the ledge the duke stood upon. They could climb on the chains gripping the walls, particularly the chain that hung above the duke. Bronty touched a chain but found the metal too hot to grasp. Meanwhile the duke stood, then lifted into the air, to fly close to the hunters.

When he came close, the hunters could see that the duke did not look to be a being from Repath Aos Vio, for his mail suit and perfect body were alien in their design. The duke waved his hand, and suddenly metal arms from the block grabbed the hunters at their ankles, gripping their bones with metal hands, and more arms protruded and grabbed the hunters' wrists. Voyancer attempted to turn to mist, but the arms lifted a black sack, trapping the mist inside. No struggle could pull the hunters from their shackles.

"You tell me who sent you," the duke said, eyeing Euphos, "or the druid gets dispatched."

"Why would you stop with her?" Euphos asked. "There's no hope, I know--you'll kill us no matter what."

"You have proved most resourceful," the duke responded. "I may let you live, to serve me."

"You know I would never serve you. I can see the whole plan--do you think I would simply join you?"

"You are intelligent, but not intelligent enough to challenge my authority," the duke said. "You will make a good servant."

Euphos didn't quite get the whole picture until he remembered the ogres. "The ogres . . . you are working with Stum Igbo, to raid Phracia."

The duke seemed delighted, then quickly angry. "You must die."

Bronty yelled, "Wait! What about the Raydus's prophecy, that you and Euphos make a bargain, to save the Mount's people?!"

"Prophecy is subject to interpretation, and I am the interpreter." The duke unsheathed a massive blade that shone like a blue sun. He came close to Euphos.

"Mommy, where ith Euphoth?" Fowbip asked. The duke had not shackled his ankles, but he stayed close to Bronty. "Where ith Daddy--who ith thith guy with uth?"

Bronty shushed Fowbip quickly, but not before the duke put his eyes on Fowbip. "Tell me again what you just said, son."

"Uh, who ith thith guy with uth?'"

"Are you referring to me, son?"

"No, thith guy." Fowbip pointed to Euphos.

"Fowbip, no!" Bronty yelled.

The duke went into Fowbip's psyche. Voyancer could not defend him from where he was trapped in the sack, for the cloth was imbued with the ability to interdict. The duke found what he needed in Fowbip's child-like psyche, then sped flying to a portal high above them, and the hunters found themselves alone, hotter than ever.

"Should've listened to me, Bronty," Euphos began, regretting the decision to keep Fowbip. The duke no doubt had seen visions in Fowbip's psyche, and Euphos's body lying on the bed inside the temple. The duke would not allow Euphos to live, in either body.

While Euphos lived, the duke would have to worry about being hunted. The Raydus's prophecy might not frighten the duke, but he obviously respected it. Euphos cursed himself--he should have trusted his guts, for they had saved him all his time as a hunter.

"What about us, Euphos?" Bronty yelled. "You've got a way to save yourself--detach your spirit and escape--but we're stuck on this thing, about to burn alive!"

"We've got no chance anymore," Euphos said dully. "I could've possibly come back with the priests to save you!" Euphos could have repossessed his body in the temple, then returned to attempt a rescue.

A memory came to Euphos, a vision, a woman with dark hair, and he lying close to her, blankets drawn across her hips, her perfume enrapturing his being. Finally, everything made sense--life, his purpose, his beliefs . . . it all fit together. Euphos looked for a way to save the hunters from the duke, but his mind stayed latched to this memory, as if this would be the way to escape the prison above the magma. It did not make sense, but Euphos did not stop it.

This woman became an alley, in a town at night, the dark hair hugging the tops of buildings where figures shuffled, assassins hopping like the rittets in Euphos's swamp, their blades reflecting torches. Euphos could not run, for his legs would not cooperate--this was different than in previous visions. He became immobile, like Voyancer in his most dense state. The assassins came to the street to meet the hunter and the town must have been unpopulated, for not a whisper lingered. Euphos stood in the street and the assassins moved in, still wrapped in dark. This time he could see their eyes, her eyes. This figure, the figures, was not a gang, just one person, for they came from her. Pressia came from the dark, her hair like the night. Euphos could not look, for daggers came in, and they became her. She pulled his hands from his eyes, and Euphos could no longer hide. She left a long while ago, and he could not remember just when, but he remembered her trotting on a horse from the swamp, going to the closest town.

Days passed, and she never came back. Euphos went to the city to look for her and found her friends. They responded with blank looks, no replies. "You should move on, Euphos," he finally got one to say. And that's when he returned to his swamp, and the time after became like a long sleep, lying in bed waiting to wake up.

He remembered his bargain with Shebiss, but this point made no difference. He would use his ghosydium blade to destroy his spirit, to prevent the warlock from claiming his--

The stone block shook violently, and the hunters felt the shackles almost yank their ankles from their legs. Bronty saw waves surround Euphos, distortions that ripped into the block, shattering it into big pieces, then touched the chains suspending the block. The massive metal links snapped when the waves struck, and as the waves expanded, they snapped almost all the chains holding the block. With every snap, the block rocked until it swung toward the magma, their shackles keeping the hunters bound. Another chain snapped and the block swung wide, and only two chains were keeping it from being engulfed by the fiery lake below.

Still attached to the block, the hunters drew a wide arc as the block swung toward the chamber wall. Fowbip grabbed onto Bronty as the block barreled right at the wall, stopping just feet shy of it as the chains held them away. The block rocked like a swing, then came to just a wobble, and Euphos's shackles snapped, all but one. The memories could no longer be stopped, and he swung, the shackle holding him just above the magma. Pressia lived in his immediate memory, for she could no longer be suppressed.

New waves flicked around Euphos, and he focused as much as he could, to try and save his own life, the hunters' lives. His friends hung from the block like puppets, their shackles the strings. "Bronty, tell Fowbip to rip open the cloth that's keeping Voyancer!" Euphos commanded.

Bronty ordered, "Fowbip, do as he says, do as Mommy says. Climb to Voyancer and rip open the sack!" Sweltering fires burned on the surface of the magma, and the hunters would not be able to survive much longer. Fowbip climbed up Bronty, then hopped to Shebiss's chain. Fowbip's tail wrapped around the warlock's neck, to keep his grip.

"If the fire doesn't choke the life from me, this idiot will!" Shebiss roared, his raspy insult not lessening Fowbip's enthusiasm. Fowbip could finally prove his worth, saving his mommy, her friends, and that other guy. Fowbip hopped onto Voyancer's shackles, gripping the metal tightly with his claws. He grabbed the sack with his foot and pulled it up, able to grab on to the sack and swing while he ripped it furiously with his claws. The sack finally ripped, and Voyancer ascended from the sack in mist form. Fowbip kept going until the sack split, and Fowbip found himself staring at the magma, his tail gripping a shackle that was the only thing preventing him from falling into a fire bath.

"Fowbip!" Bronty yelled. Voyancer flew to the block's top side, then assumed his regular density to stand up, the hunters still rocking with their shackles. "Voyancer, put my staff in my hand," Bronty instructed. Voyancer bent and pulled Bronty up by her feet until he could grab her staff. He pulled it from its tie and put it in Bronty's hand.

Bronty could barely grip her staff, with her body pointed at the magma, feet to the sky. Blood rushed and she started to faint. But she called on the spirits, and they sent their bounty. Fiery hands took shape in the magma and grew upward until they found the hunters' shackles and melted the metal with their fiery tendrils. Voyancer grabbed Euphos and lifted him to the block top when his shackle snapped, then Shebiss. Voyancer gripped the sack and pulled, lifting Fowbip upward until . . . the sack ripped and Fowbip tumbled toward the magma.

"No!" Bronty yelled. She targeted Fowbip, and a fiery hand punched up from the magma, striking and lifting Fowbip like a rock in a trebuchet. Fowbip yelled as the quick magma touch singed his furry hide and he flew upward, above the hunters, where Voyancer grabbed him from the bounce, on the way up. The fiery hands melted Bronty's shackles and the hunters all stood at the top of the block, with Fowbip rolling around like a lunatic. Bronty cast a cure spell and Fowbip's protests quieted.

"Euphos, what the heck just happened?" Bronty asked while she tended to Fowbip.

"We don't have time," Euphos replied breathlessly. "I have to get back to my body, because if the duke gets there first I'm going to be a red-haired hunter forever. Shebiss can teleport you to the ledge, then you can all escape with the spider king. Find me at the temple." Euphos lay on the block and closed his eyes.

His spirit detached from the body and began to affect the life dimension, much as it had the spiritual one. His spirit's mere presence warped things around him, its nature flawed beyond belief. This would be why the episode on the block had happened. Pressia loomed in Euphos's spirit, in his waking memory all the time, for she could not be put back in a prison, in a cell, hidden from view. Euphos could only see her, and she would not move to allow other matters inside his mind. Euphos traveled in spirit back to the temple to reclaim his body, to prepare to battle the duke. Pressia stood above, around, all about, and the hunter could barely draw up a battle plan. Her hair spilled onto his body, she smiled, and Euphos could barely tell the difference between her vision and the things about him. He flew beyond the ridge path, then came to the people's temple.

He pushed into the temple, back to the chamber where his body slept. The duke had not yet located it, but Euphos knew that he would. Euphos awoke, reunited with his spirit, and massive booms came from the worship chamber above, vibrating the room where he stood. He gripped Perpetuum and rushed upstairs to find the duke flying about and Schute raising his hands, with a blue sphere about his staff. The pews in the chamber were shattered, and debris lined the chamber like scree upon the ridge, while a hole gaped in the temple ceiling. The temple priests were nowhere to be found, but they probably would be distractions to Schute in this work.

"The gods may give you power, but they are absent when I draw Phracia to my liking," the duke mocked. "Where are they, you coward? They desire me to rule you, else why would they stay silent? You may serve me if you stop this blasphemous assault."

"You are arrogant," Schute responded. "You may be able to sway the Frissians with deceit, but you do not know who you are talking to." The duke did not see Euphos in the hallway, and this would give the hunter his best shot. 

# Chapter 23

Euphos returned to the hunters' chamber and found the blond-haired priest in a chamber at the periphery. "Pray to Fyn--I need you to help us," Euphos urged. "Tell me that there is another way to get away from here." The blond priest nodded nervously.

The duke still taunted the cleric in the worship chamber. "Vursa wishes you to join the revolution, cleric. There are ogre legions on their way to Thephobium, the spectral lines have broken, I will become the rightful king when they take the cities, and you--definitely a powerful servant--can become my most trusted."

"You are about to see what the gods think about the conspiracy to destroy Phracia," Schute declared, raising his metal staff. Winged angelic beings, hundreds of them, came to life, like a fey army, their blond hair like the suns. They flapped their delicate wings like insects as they filled the worship chamber, ducking and diving as they made their way to the duke, until they surrounded the alien usurper.

The duke fired a ray from a gun on his arm, and the red energy burned the angels who stood in its way, then the ray struck the tiles. Schute drew energy from Vursa to build a metal shield, then lifted his arm right as the ray moved up to his body. The duke pushed Schute backward with the power until he smashed into a wall.

The angel wings shed, and thousands of feathers swirled until they blanketed the whole chamber like snow. The duke moved toward Schute, flying at the ceiling as he attempted to get away from the angels. He activated a black flame torch and swept the angels, who burned as the flames caught their wings on fire. They set the chamber on fire as the flames touched the feather storm, and the feathers blackened and filled the chamber with ash. Schute dodged the fiery angels, using the feather storm to reposition and get a better attack angle. The duke flew around the chamber, activating an energy shield of flickering waves that protected his body, giving the usurper even more defense than just his metal suit.

"Why is it you protect this bounty hunter?" the duke asked. "It is written that he must surrender to me. As it stands, all you are doing is extending this conflict. There is no hope, cleric. I will give you one last opportunity to become my servant."

"Die!" Schute cried as he thrust at the duke a holy long blade he had just built. The fiery blade flew from Schute's hands and struck the duke's energy shield, lighting the chamber with a massive spark as the blade pierced the shield.

The duke's shield cracked, but he maneuvered and the blade sped toward the ceiling, then stuck high above. "Hatred is not a holy virtue, cleric."

"You will be struck down, brought to your knees, and the gods will have their way," Schute barked.

"Yes, they will, and they would have me on high, ruling Phracia from Spektros."

The duke fired a spike array from his gauntlets, and Schute blocked most of them with his shield, but spikes struck the cleric's robe, then his staff arm. Schute yelled in pain as the metal rods ripped into his muscle and stuck in the tiles behind him.

The foes paused when two black-robed figures arrived at the worship chamber from the vestibule. They bowed in the duke's presence, and one cried, "This blasphemous temple should be burned, and all the people from its heretical ranks should be tortured! They will know the duke's joy!" as he ran at Schute with a blade raised above his head, preparing to strike the cleric, to convert the cleric to his religion. The duke's laugh echoed in the chamber as his worshipers came to his aid, came to convert the blasphemous. Schute backed into a wall, raising his shield to deflect the attack.

The black-robed figure smashed his dagger upon Schute's shield, pushing the blade ever closer to the cleric's neck, then raised its hood to reveal its face. "Schute, knock me behind the duke," the man urged, and Schute's eyes went wide. "Hurry, push me with a spell," Euphos whispered. Schute quickly understood. He blasted Euphos backward with a gale-force wind, and Euphos hit the tiles and slid down, Schute's spell putting the robed hunter in the perfect spot. The second robed figure rushed at Schute with a similar attack, and Schute kept the intensity up, to keep the duke's eyes upon the cleric and not on Euphos. Schute struggled with the blond priest, locked in mortal combat while Euphos collected his wits.

The wind had knocked the wind from Euphos's lungs, but the battling robed figures kept the duke's attention. Euphos pulled Perpetuum from his robe and nocked a metal arrow. Visions flooded his mind. He could see only Pressia beyond the duke, and all around the usurper, could feel only overwhelming vulnerability, for her eyes pierced the hunter's defenses. No metal armor could defend against the fear she struck inside the hunter, no magic spell could defend against the drug-like hallucinations her smile inflicted upon him.

The duke had burned his country, his home, and ultimately burned everything around Euphos. His friends, family, Pressia. Euphos would destroy the duke, would paint Phracia with his blood. Euphos drew and fired. The arrow flew true, but the duke caught Euphos in his peripheral vision and dodged. The arrow ripped pieces from the duke's armor but did not strike his body. The duke twisted and put his energy shield between himself and Euphos. He raised his gauntlet at Euphos. "Clever," he cried, "but you should be aware that the gods are with me. It is time for you to die." The duke aimed and almost fired, when he got a glimpse of Euphos. He knew this person, but where from? Schute and the priest stopped fighting and watched the duke prepare to destroy Euphos.

The duke's pause gave Schute the opportunity to save his friend. "Euphos!" Schute yelled as he tossed his shield into the air. Euphos did not think, did not have time, did not understand what Schute attempted, but he did the only thing that he could think to do. Euphos nocked an arrow, aimed, and fired. His arrow sped at the metal shield.

The duke finally remembered--this person on the tiles, he had seen this person in the seever's psyche, the warrior from the Raydus prophecy who would destroy him. Euphos's arrow hit the shield, deflected, and ripped into the duke's unshielded back. The arrow pierced the duke's chest, hit the energy shield he held before him, then deflected back inside his body. The duke flew above them a while longer, his power suit keeping him up, until the life fled from his eyes and he no longer controlled his flight. The suit flew higher until it hit the ceiling and paraded his body around the worship chamber like a crucifix. Schute and the priest rushed to Euphos, who still lay on the tiles.

"Tell me, did you know that I could do that with Perpetuum?" Euphos asked.

"The bow? No, I thought you could use the shield to block an attack. But I won't fault you for being stupid," Schute responded with a smile.

More of their party arrived--Bronty, Voyancer, Shebiss, and Fowbip. They saw the duke flying around the chamber, then saw Euphos, Schute, and the priest.

"I'll assume from the calm attitude that the duke is done?" Bronty asked.

_The duke is done,_ Euphos mused.

The hunters pulled the duke's body from the ceiling with help from Bronty's vine spell. They disassembled his armor and made sure no pulse kept the duke alive. The advanced technology inside the duke's armor would keep engineers busy trying to extract its secrets, but only if they could find a way to save Phracia.

"Schute, we are going to have that talk, and we are going to have it immediately," Bronty opined furiously. "First, we need to tell you what we found during the escape from the duke's keep." Euphos, Schute, and the priests turned their attention to Bronty quickly, interrupting their armor investigation.

"Yes?" Euphos asked.

"We used the spider god figurine to travel," she continued, "and we found a room as we went back into the halls under the keep. Inside this chamber, close to the chamber we found the caster in, we found a sun shield." Euphos's eyes went wide. "In the sun shield we found a device much like the one in Gutto's keep." All eyes went to Schute and Bronty said, "Schute, time to talk."

Schute sat on a cracked pew and rolled up his sleeves. The hunters surrounded the cleric, the priests sitting close on the pews. Schute stared at the tiles a long while, seemingly to put together his speech.

Suddenly a sound came from within the temple halls, no, from closer to them, its faint whine like the violin player's weeping dirge, masking its location with its soft whisper. The hunters' eyes asked Schute, "Are you making this?" And his wide eyes replied, "No."

The whine grew to the whistling taps of a torrential rain upon glass. A robed figure came from the temple halls, presumably a temple priest there to check on the noise, moving toward the hunters while they palmed their blades and prepared spells. The duke might have another dirty trick to play.

The sound became like that of a forest, with chirps and wind and branches swaying. The temple priest came closer and knelt close to Euphos, the sound behind him making the worship chamber a landscape in the wild, not a spot to pray. The hunters waited, waited, waited uncomfortably, then paused their breaths as one until Shebiss spoke. "You can save the fancy arrival, priest--we have matters to attend to."

The figure stood and pulled his hood back. This man, not a priest they knew, had dark brown hair to his collar, one brown eye and the other closed, with a mark covering the skin--a merchant's scale. He opened his hand, and on his palm were seven stars.

Euphos dropped to his knees. "Bas."

Schute joined Euphos. Bronty grabbed Fowbip and held him in her arms while she knelt, too, and Voyancer put his arms around Bronty and knelt beside her.

Euphos knew this to be civilization's god--it could not be a trick. The god's righteous power imbued his soul with authority, pushing into the hunters with warm light that made them certain they were doing right, that they had been adhering to Bas's wishes when they sought to destroy the bounties. All feeling that they had risked their lives for naught turned to joy that they had fought with the god at their backs.

Schute cried quietly. "Thank you, Bas--I could not tell him." He looked at Euphos with weeping eyes.

"Euphos," Bas began. Euphos looked up at the god, not sure what to do. He listened. "You are like a son to me. I have done everything in my power to give you a life that you deserve. You have proven to be a righteous warrior in this time of chaos.

"That fateful day when the necromancers saved you, and you gained the power to navigate the spirit dimension, did you not know what I am about to tell you? Did you not know when you tried to escape it all, hide in your swamp, that you are different, that you see things others do not? Did you not know it when you discovered that your soul is unique? I think you have known your whole life, and this is the time that you must make a decision, one that you have been preparing to make your whole life. I know it will be right."

Fowbip wrapped himself around his daddy's leg, relieved to see his daddy up and moving around, not lying asleep.

"Vursa made your soul--this is not unusual, since she makes all souls. But when she made yours, she sought help from all the other gods, and even entities that I shall not speak of. They came together to make you, with an important purpose: You were to be their eyes. The gods watch everything--after all, they have made all, and because they care, they need a way to judge the value, the worth of their work. But this can be a subjective thing, judging their work. Because of this, we decided to make a being who could live amongst our work, as one of its inhabitants. You could live as a being, with other beings like yourself, and because we gave you an especially sensitive spirit, in addition to unwavering righteousness, we would use you to judge. We see Phracia through your eyes, feel the wet from your swamp in Phasebios through your skin, touch Pressia with your hands when you do."

Euphos could not look at the god. His eyes went to the tiled floor. He felt his wife everywhere, could see her in everything. Bas's revelation struck the madness inside the hunter. Euphos had always sensed a presence, a watchful force, his whole life, as Bas described it. But Pressia's haunting eyes obscured everything, detached him from life, made the hunter trust no person, no feeling.

Bas moved closer to him. "Euphos, we have seen, felt, and lived with you your whole life, and we have used your interpretations, your attitudes, your beliefs to put together judgment of the worth of Repath Aos Vio. Schute gave these bounties in the hopes that you would see the difference you have made with your heroic deeds. You have brought hope to Phracia, and you must know that it is because of you that Phracia has a chance to survive at all."

Euphos finally understood why Schute had attempted to portray Phracia as a good, just nation during his first visit with the hunters. Euphos mustered the strength to speak to the god. "Phracia is coming undone," he said. "There are ogres about to take the whole country, and I have done a pittance to prevent this. Bas, my god and ruler of civilization, you see what I see, feel what I feel. What is the result?" He looked up at the god for a reply.

"We have judged Repath Aos Vio unworthy, just as you have. You see no hope and thus we do not," the god spoke.

"What then?" Euphos asked. "What will happen?"

Bas paused. "We have decided to destroy Repath Aos Vio, then to rebuild it. Fire will rain from the sky, and a rock much like a planet will strike and will destroy everything."

The hunters stared at Euphos, at Bas, at the floor a long while, trying to ingest the revelation. Fowbip curled up at Euphos's feet and wrapped himself around the hunter's legs.

"When will this happen?" Euphos asked, for all of them.

"Three days," Bas replied. The hunters gasped.

"What if I decide that Repath Aos Vio is worthy?" Euphos added. "What if I can make the people see, get them to come back to the gods?"

"Then we will not punish them, because you will believe that they are doing as they should."

Euphos could barely think, for Pressia's vision was perpetually harassing him, and with Bas's revelation, simply existing would be difficult. How could he do this thing? Euphos looked to Schute and the cleric met his stare.

Bronty stood. "Euphos, you must know that since Voyancer and I came to your swamp not long ago, you were having . . ." Bronty could not find the right way to describe Euphos's condition. No, Bronty thought. _I simply cannot put a thought together, I simply can 't tell Euphos what happened to him. It is as if my mind is being controlled._ Euphos's mental lapses seemed to be infecting her in much the same way.

Voyancer spoke. "Euphos, you have suffered terrible tribulation in your life . . ." Voyancer's usually calm, rational voice had quivered a moment. The hunters were surprised at his suddenly emotional state and waited uncomfortably for him to finish. "You have lived long without your wife. I think that you need to know this."

Voyancer came closer to Euphos, who still knelt below Bas. "When we found you, a mere mention of her name caused you to lapse from yourself, caused your mind to detach from itself. Euphos, you have been living in a state of lunacy--delirium--for a long while, and I detect inside you a tension, a disturbance that I have never known."

Slivers, flashes, memories came back to Euphos. He remembered checking his traps in his swamp and then suddenly forgetting who he was, who he had ever been. The hunter remembered Pressia going from the swamp to visit town, and then he could only recall blank spots--long days, maybe weeks or months, with time becoming like a fog to obscure his memory of everything in his life.

Bronty wept. She could feel Euphos's desperation, could feel his mind bend and even contort to attempt to escape the long memory, the time after Pressia had gone.

Euphos stood and spoke plainly. "I can no longer escape her." The hunter looked up, staring at a shaft of light that pierced the temple's glass tracery. "And I never will be able to."

He stood there a long while, thinking about what life would be like without her.

\- * -

"What about the sun shields, and the devices?" Bronty asked as the hunters discussed events in their room in the temple. Bas had wished them good tidings and returned to his kingdom. Bronty took time to recover from the events that just transpired. She spoke about the task at hand, more from the desire to forget about what she felt inside Euphos. "You gave us these bounties, Schute, and they just happened to all possess these machines."

"I did not pick these bounties--Vursa did. But I do not know what these devices do"--Schute turned to the psionicist--"and I am hoping that Voyancer and his people can tell us."

Voyancer nodded. "I will travel back to Weopathis to check on the progress of the investigation. Let us hope they have discovered what the machines do." The psionicist paused. "Euphos, I have not known you long, but I believe in you," he assured the hunter, and then he turned to mist and rose from the temple, moving to the worship chamber and then up to the sky.

"While we wait," Schute announced, "we should travel to Graven, to talk to Lensus. We will discuss the events and what to do from here." He cast a hopeful look at Euphos.

Shebiss deliberated the revelation in his mind: Euphos's soul should bring the warlock much more power than his bargain with Xidack had provided. Xidack would expand Shebiss's power when he acquired Euphos's soul, but a simple boost in power would no longer be a fair trade. Euphos's soul should bring him much more.

"Schute, what about the temple?" Bronty asked. "They still have the duke's cult to battle, potentially. What will they do?"

"We will do fine, druid," the blond priest responded. "The Raydus instructs us on what to do from here, but as you have discussed, if the ogres from Stum Igbo come, there is little we can do. The vast hordes will overwhelm us." The priest's expression said it all: if Euphos did not change his mind, the temple's future would not matter.

The hunters put together their things and traveled back to Reizwid, where Euphos would use his time to put his psyche back together. The hunters stayed silent about the revelations to provide Euphos an opportunity to gather his senses. Euphos slept, the whole time hoping that when he awoke everything would be restored: his life, his home, his wife.

They would make the journey to Graven at dawn.

When he awoke, Euphos found that his hopes had not been realized, and he fixated on one thing: Pressia would never come back. The gods watched his every move and gave the hunter the ability to see beyond all others, but this did not matter. It did not bring Pressia back, and the hunter wished the gods had given him the power to control people, had made Euphos a psionicist.

One could say that Euphos behaved selfishly, that he should think about the people and not himself, in this situation. But the gods needed the hunter to live his life as if he didn't know that they watched. They needed the hunter to view life just as he believed, and if he adopted a view about things because he thought this would save the people, Euphos surmised that the gods would not even consider that view. He knew they watched, that they lived with him: there would be no going back. Euphos found his mentor and asked, "Schute, do you wish me to change my beliefs about Phracia purposely? Will the gods listen if I do this?"

"I do not know, but it is because you are angry at Phracia that the gods have decided to destroy it. At this point we should attempt to save it any way possible."

"Then I would say that we must do everything possible to bring the Frissians back to a time when they loved their country, when they cherished liberty and Bas's principles. I am not sure that I can find good in Phracia simply by ignoring what it is today. My home is unrecognizable to me, and its people are strangers. We must go back."

Schute worried as the hunters rode to Lensus's house in Graven, arriving close to dark. Schute and the hunters discussed the battle and Bas's revelations. Lensus agreed that he would do everything in his own power to bring Phracia back. He believed that Chayzon Skus and the governors at Lectidomes would need to understand the situation, and then they would listen.

The hunters argued that if Lectidomes knew about Euphos, about his story, they would simply attempt to gain power from it.

"No," Lensus replied. "If we can gain audience, they will listen. It would be irrational, suicidal, if they didn't."

The hunters skeptically agreed. "If other clerics attempt to contact Vursa, or any god, they will not be given this revelation," Schute warned. "The gods, including Vursa, asked me to stay silent. We can't tell anybody else. But the result is that this will then look like a conspiracy to take power. We are claiming that they must listen, that they must do as we wish."

It made sense to Euphos that the gods would want the hunters to stay silent. If the people knew about Euphos, about the rock, they might purposely alter their behavior, obscuring the picture. If the people required a direct, imminent threat in order to behave like higher beings, then they did not deserve to live.

"If we tell the people, the gods will destroy us still," Schute added.

Bas had warned the people that if they did not heed the Keys, they would suffer the gods' wrath. That should be enough. "We must find a way to reinstill the love of liberty, to return the people to the wisdom in Bas's Keys," Euphos said. The group with Lensus knew this would be unbelievably difficult. It would require the eradication of the Cult of Revolution, the destruction of the beliefs that motivated the cult. The hunters could start at the smaller towns, attempt to bring the people back. If the ogres were on their way, then any attempt to bring the people back would be short-lived.

A pall descended on the hunters. Attempting to rescue the Frissians, to bring their morals and values back, could be impossible, but they would need to try.

When Voyancer arrived at Lensus's house, the hunters finally got answers to the sun shield riddle. "We have discovered important things about the devices and the shields that we found during the bounties," Voyancer began. "First, let's talk about the shields--they are high-energy protections emitted from the devices--simply defense intended to keep people from acquiring the devices."

"What about the shield in the Rat King's lair?" Bronty asked. "We did not find a device there."

"We did not find it because the Rat King buried it under the dirt. Our agents found it after much deliberation." The revelations continued. "The devices need protection because they are indeed very powerful. Tests prove that the devices emit an energy that can control people's psyches, in a much different way than psionicists can control psyches." The group gasped. "If you chart the devices' positions where we found them in Thephobium you will draw a shape." Voyancer unrolled a map on a table before the hunters. Lines drawn from Kleon to the Noble Hills to Mount Rykus made a triangle. "We believe that the device's operator could control all the people's psyches who were within these boundaries."

It immediately dawned on Euphos. "The duke controlled Chayzon Skus. He used Lectidomes's premier as his puppet." The rest of the room took a while to catch on. "He may have controlled more than just Skus. Maybe even everyone within the bounds of the shape." Euphos stood, taking in more revelations. "People in Lectidomes could have been under the duke's spell--literally. It could be the case that they are no longer, that they have regained their wits . . . for we have the devices."

Lensus said with a note of relief, "I will say that most likely Chayzon Skus is no longer under the duke's spell, provided Voyancer is correct about the device's abilities." No doubt Skus would be back to normal. The people had noticed a change in Skus for some time that probably corresponded with Duke Nihilus Eternus building the devices and taking control.

"We must go to Lectidomes. This could be an opportunity to save Thephobium--"

"Maybe even all of Phracia," Bronty said, completing the thought.

The hunters rode the next morning from Graven to Lectidomes, but when they came to a hill above the city, at its north, they could see no difference in activity. Farmers were plowing their lands and workers were tending to their livestock. This suggested that they were not aware that the ogres under the duke's control might soon descend upon Thephobium. Euphos felt panic rise--he had hoped he would see signs that the people had woken up, if indeed they were being controlled before. Maybe there would even be riots. Guards from Lectidomes patrolled the highways, enforcing the edicts, and the government controlled everything around Lectidomes, while the guards inspected the property. This worried Euphos. The guards on the wall seemed to be protecting the city as usual.

The hunters came to the gates, rode inside, and found the streets to be guarded much the same, with patrols everywhere and at all times as they had been since the confiscation. Lensus rode forward with the hunters, all of them taking in as much as they could. People walked the streets, wagons moved, but the activity had not risen since their prior visit. This did not bode well.

Euphos estimated that Lectidomes would have maybe a thousand professionals and slightly more citizens to defend the city. If the ogres were on their way, if the lines at Eudybium broke, there would be many times that number in ogres, gnolls, and other troops from Stum Igbo. Even with crude siege technology the hordes could take the city. The hunters rode into the temple district then found Aos's temple adorned with a woe's hyperius above the entrance. The hunters agreed they would not talk about Euphos's revelations, but they would discuss with the paladins the duke and the devices. They tied their horses and entered the grey stone building.

It stood like a roemanx prepared to pounce, with four domes at its corners like paws. They were greeted by a paladin and requested Derse's council. Indeed, Derse had come to the temple, the paladin said, then asked the hunters to wait while he notified him. Derse came from within the temple to greet the hunters and asked them to return to his chambers, a round room adorned with frescoes depicting weeping figures.

"Derse, have you noticed any change in the people's disposition here in Lectidomes?" Euphos asked. Derse had not. Lectidomes's government still possessed the people's land, and protests against this were violently subdued. Euphos detailed the hunters' battle with the duke and Voyancer's revelations regarding the sun shields. Derse listened in shock. "Have you spoken to Chayzon Skus?" Euphos asked.

"No, I have not. He has not been seen in days, maybe longer, by any associates. The guards are posting Skus's portrait on the walls and inside the city. He is building himself up as an authoritarian, a dictator."

Skus had not been seen in days. This fit with Euphos's hypothesis. This sudden change in his habits could be a result of the mind control devices being removed.

Is there hope? "Can you get us in to see Skus?" Euphos asked. "Maybe with Lensus's help?"

"We can try," Derse said. "I would suggest that you stay here while Lensus and I see what we can do. If there is an invasion about to happen, Skus should know about it, especially since he is no longer controlled by this duke."

Lensus and Derse immediately left for the House of Rights to request a visit with the premier. A paladin guided the hunters to a waiting chamber where they waited, surprisingly not long. Derse and Lensus returned quickly, and Euphos's gut said that they did not bring good news.

"Come with us immediately," Derse commanded. The statesman and the paladin led the hunters back to the House of Rights, where guards escorted the group up the steps and inside the building. Built from white stone, the House seemed to watch the city, seemed to be the gods' home. Beyond the stairs stood thirteen statues, carved to pay respects to the thirteen gods. Euphos walked to the portal as he would have walked to the gods' portal in their own realm. Even if the building did not intimidate, its architecture inspired them, having been built during a time when liberty reigned in Phracia.

From the top of the stairs could be seen a debate chamber, a second chamber where the premier would have his quarters, and a third chamber to house delegations. The hunters and escorts moved quickly into an entryway, then a hall, and into a chamber that served as a waiting room. The guards instructed the hunters to wait and then brought them to Skus's chambers, where they stood with more guards until Skus arrived.

Skus appeared and nodded, and the guards locked the hunters inside with him and returned to their posts. Skus sat at a desk built from the white wood of Wisperium. "I have prayed to the gods that you might arrive," Skus began, "that any might arrive to tell me who I am."

Euphos stepped forward. "In the days prior to this, we have destroyed Duke Nihilus Eternus, a powerful figure in the Rituals. He seemed to be from an alien land, with access to powerful technology that allowed him to control people's psyches. We believe that he employed this technology to control you."

Skus stared at Euphos a long while. Then he spoke.

"I have been 'asleep,' as you may call it, for a long time in my waking hours, and I can't describe fully the feeling. It has been like watching my body as if I were only a witness, not its king. Like a coach, with the driver operating the wagon as if it were me. The things I did, the people I met--they are still a mystery to me. Yet I did witness other events. I remember talking to my aides, describing in detail that I wished them to send scouts to the cities to recruit the wayward, that they might then build a cult, this Cult of Revolution."

# Chapter 24

Euphos had correctly suspected that forces devised the cult to cause chaos and disruption.

"My lips moved," Skus continued, "and I spoke, but I could not control it, and I watched like an observer as my body did as it would. Panic rose inside me, and I lived like a prisoner, in a nightmare. I believed that devils took me, put me in their apocalyptic kingdoms."

"If the duke is to be believed," Voyancer added, "there are ogre legions from Stum Igbo on their way. They destroyed the spectral line at Eudybium and are ravaging Phracia." Voyancer's people knew that the ogres were on their way, but the psionicist refrained from telling the hunters this, concerned that Euphos would immediately change his mind and flee without any attempt to save Lectidomes.

"The duke is right," Skus responded. "They are on their way." The hunters gasped. "I have couriers from Eudybium, and they have confirmed this."

"Are you setting up a defense? Why don't we see forces preparing?" Euphos asked.

"Because if I walk from this suite of rooms, if I issue any commands, I will be killed."

Euphos immediately understood. "You are no longer in control. Probably much like Kleon, Lectidomes is under Spektros's thumb."

Skus lifted a box up to place it on his desk. "This is what's left of my policy chief."

Bronty gasped and he continued. "They wrote on the box that if I step from my chambers, if I give one command, I will be in a box just like this." The party responsible would want things to stay just as they were--ogres inside Phracia and Lectidomes unable to defend itself.

"Do you think they are the duke's henchmen, the people that keep you here?" Voyancer asked.

"I do not know," Skus responded. "They prefer authoritarians ruling Lectidomes, so they must benefit from that."

"What should we do?" Bronty asked.

"You should flee, try to warn others."

"Why would they let us go?" Euphos asked. "Surely they listen to what we are saying here. Skus, they most likely want you alive still, to give the people a sense that there is still stability, even if there is no liberty in Lectidomes. Why would they allow us to go?"

Euphos understood now why Skus had brought the hunters to his chambers, even if he did risk their lives by doing so. "Let me cause a distraction," Skus said as he strapped on a suit of armor. "It will help you escape." He pulled a shield and blade from a stand. "Let me draw the guards' attention, and then you may go." Skus walked to the chamber hallway.

"Skus, what are you doing?" Schute cried. "You will be killed!"

"Come when I say to," he replied. "May the gods save Phracia."

Euphos doubted that any entity powerful enough to keep Skus locked in a chamber would just let the hunters go. The people knew Skus as an honorable representative, and Euphos knew that Skus did what he could to try to save his home. Yet Euphos could not fathom why any guard would let the hunters come to Skus's chambers at all, unless it was to trap them there.

"Bronty, Shebiss," he said quickly, "if you have any wards to protect us, I would ask you to cast them." Shebiss cast a boost-attack-resistance spell and Bronty imbued the party with a rapid-mend-wounds spell.

Skus gripped his blade and shield and walked to the hallway, then yelled, "Guards! Come quickly, we are being attacked!" The guards hesitated. They did not see anything attacking Skus . . . But then a white apparition blinked to life. White tattered robes hung around its ghostly skeleton. "Guards!" Skus yelled again, and the guards rushed to his aid, pikes in battle position. "Run!" Skus yelled over his shoulder to the hunters as the apparition struck at him with a dagger. Skus lifted his shield, but the dagger did not respect the shield's physicality and pierced everything that guarded Skus, ripping a gash in him from hip to shoulder. Skus's body hit the stone tiles in pieces. The guards pushed forward, trying to trap the ghost in the hallway, and called for support. More guards from the House of Rights rushed to join the battle. The hunters took the opportunity to vacate the capitol.

Derse led the hunters back to Aos's temple, and they returned to Derse's chamber to discuss events. "Why would the being that trapped Skus allow us to talk to him? Whoever it is, they must know that he would tell us what was going on," Euphos asked.

"Maybe the conspirator believes that the duke still controls Skus," Lensus replied. "That is, if whoever it is even knows that the duke controlled Skus to begin with."

"Could this being not simply stop us from seeing the premier? I have to believe that a being this powerful would not let us live--maybe it is hunting us."

"Or they don't think we are dangerous, even if we do know the ogres are on their way," Schute added.

"Euphos, back inside the duke's keep, trapped in the lava, you became empowered with magic. Why?" Bronty asked.

"It's not magic," Euphos began, just as a paladin came to Derse's chamber.

"Sir, there are two visitors who wish to see the cloudman."

"Yes?" Voyancer replied.

The guard pivoted and those in the room could see two cloudmen dressed in ornate armor under grey-and-white togas.

"Dogues and Vei--they are my associates," Voyancer explained.

Derse waved them in. _Voyancer, we have important news about the devices you found,_ one of the cloudmen communicated to Voyancer via psionics.

"Thank you." Voyancer addressed the rest. "We have discovered the device workings and are able to operate them, able to wield their persuasion powers."

"Voyancer, can the cloudmen raise the devices' power to be able to control more than one person, maybe a group?" Euphos asked. "If so, I have a plan."

"We do not have the capacity to modify the technology, but I would add that it is possible to duplicate it," Dogues replied.

"If we can control the key figures in Lectidomes--guard captains, ranked military--we can pull the guards from the local property and give the people their property back. We can set up a defense against the ogres, make Lectidomes a base to take back Phracia. We will need more devices . . ." The group agreed that it would be worth a try. Dogues and Vei returned to Weopathis to begin building more devices while the hunters scouted locations on the city periphery to locate them.

Lensus believed they should control the guard captain and Veryas, Skus's most trusted confidant. Veryas had most likely helped build the cult and would have direct control. If not, the hunters would devise a plan to infiltrate and disband the cult groups with agents planted inside its ranks, to build factions and divide the cult along ideologies.

Dogues and Vei returned to Aos's temple the next day with nine devices, giving the hunters the ability to control three people inside Lectidomes. Because they observed that the people of Lectidomes had not been controlled and only Skus had, they figured it took three devices to control one person.

The cloudmen discovered they would need additional devices to serve as control units beyond the nine on the periphery, and the hunters agreed that Voyancer would roam the city to assist the controllers, with Euphos, Lensus, and Derse operating the devices.

They fixed the devices at points on the periphery that would give the controller a line of sight to the other devices, making triangles about Lectidomes. An abandoned farmhouse at a point west housed three of the control units, and Tric stood guard while Dogues and Vei taught the controllers to use the devices. Euphos picked it up quickly, as the device put the user inside the target's psyche, allowing the user to see what the target could see. This worked well for a natural hunter trained to think like prey. The user could hop from one person to another, from a man to a woman to a child, able to motivate the target with a few words, to give suggestions. The target would obey. Euphos sat at a table inside the farmhouse, traveling from person to person, as would a caster's familiar. _This must be what it feels like to be a psionicist,_ he mused.

Euphos found with the device the guard major at a station on the west side of Lectidomes, then hopped to a guard and watched as he patrolled, then found another guard close to the guard station built near the rogues' ward, a facility for housing miscreants--to prevent crime. Euphos psychically accompanied the guard into the station and came to a desk where guards checked in the prisoners. Townspeople filled cells at the back and were surprisingly silent, probably because the guards used force quickly when things got violent. Euphos hopped to another guard who walked to the back of the building, to another room. He finally found the guard major, Reht Vinus, a portly, stern warrior who fought in the spectral army. Euphos went right to his psyche and began taking control until he walked Reht to a guard captain.

"I have just received commands from the House of Rights that we are to pull the guards from all farms on the west side," Reht announced. "Do so immediately."

The captain resisted. "Sir, we took the farms and are distributing the crops according to the House's commands. Are you sure?"

"Am I sure? Do I need to promote another man to captain?"

"Sir, may I ask why they wish to pull the guards?"

"It is not business I will talk about. If you must know, there is an army on its way. They will kill everyone beyond the walls, so we need to get them inside."

The captain frowned, something inside him severely disturbed. "I am going to the House. I require verification for this operation."

"Verification?!" the captain blustered as he stormed from the room. He called back over his shoulder, "You will do this immediately!"

Euphos put Vinus back at his desk. He had not had time to come up with a subtler strategy, for they would need to get the people back inside to fight the ogres, to set up defense. At Vinus's desk he became aware of shuffling from the reception room and walked Vinus out beyond the cells to find a guard group standing in his way.

"You will all be charged with dereliction--" Vinus called but could not finish. Three guards impaled him with long blades and his blood spilled, filling up the hallway with his life. The guards decapitated Vinus and pulled his body into a cell. Euphos hopped to a new guard's psyche and could definitely control the guard but felt powerful resistance inside, as if the guard were possessed. Euphos took his hands from the device and stood up, shocked at the guards' behavior.

Lensus found Veryas in the House of Rights, inside her personal chamber and through the device moved her from the House to Lectidomes's upper side. His plan was to find the military strategoi, Jagit Libersis, then attempt to persuade him to round up the cult and prepare the forces of Lectidomes for battle. Voyancer and two personal guards joined Veryas in her coach and rode to Libersis's house close to the north wall, where they found his servant. Libersis was still tending to matters at the barracks. Veryas finally found the strategoi at the command station, where military guards brought Voyancer and Veryas to his chamber. Libersis sat alone, and he was surprised when Veryas walked to the chamber. "Hello, Madame," he said pleasantly, recovering himself.

Voyancer tested the strategoi's psyche and found it protected, as the psyches of all powerful persons would be.

"We are here to tell you to prepare the forces," Veryas commanded via Lensus's device. "The lines at Eudybium have broken and forces from Stum Igbo are on their way."

"Do you have details?"

Voyancer gave Libersis a parchment Lensus had prepared, with a written estimate full of purely fabricated data. "You are to pull the cult from the streets and keep them in the ancient keep walls," she explained. "Town guards will assist you. Get the city defenses up. I will update you." Lensus then walked Veryas from the chamber.

"Why didn't the premier tell me this?" Libersis called after her. "I have questions."

"You have all the relevant details, and I will update you every hour," she responded. Veryas and Voyancer sent their guard from the coach, then rode to a spot just beyond the station to watch events. They watched as Lectidomes's military began defense operations.

Troops gathered in the barracks yard, and others rushed toward the walls to fill defensive positions. Phalanxes moved to the city streets, gathering up the cult members who loitered at every avenue. They raided buildings to pull the cult from their congeries. Wherever the property owners had not actively fought to keep the cult at bay, the troops found piles of refuse and cultists inhaling powerful drugs. They slept in piles with rats and street urchins.

The troops led the cult members to Lectidomes's original keep, the structure that would eventually be a relic when the city grew and became a republic. They worked quickly, and the cult were summarily removed from the city. Horror came when the troops then immediately swept the city again and this time they killed every person they found. They slaughtered merchants, tailors, and blacksmiths, and Voyancer saw a trooper dismember a woman. He stomped her skull to pieces and then joined his fellows in the rest of the massacre.

"The gods above," Voyancer said to Lensus via Veryas. "They are murdering the shopkeepers, the workers."

"Go, Voyancer," Veryas prompted, willing the psionicist to escape. Voyancer grabbed their driver's psyche.

The coach bounded to the bloody streets, where the defenders of Lectidomes hacked at the people as they fled. A trooper slashed a boy's chest and blood sprayed like a geyser. Voyancer drove the driver, and they skirted bodies and battles, smashing a mob but keeping rolling. Troops quickly targeted the coach, and a massive group was in hot pursuit. Voyancer sped toward the gates, and troops yelled up to the guards, "Close the gates!"

The driver whipped the reins and the coach bounced violently as its wheel hit a building. The gates began to close, so Voyancer put maximum psychic force on the driver, and the whip lashed the horses again and again. The gates closed against the back of the coach, crushing it with thick metal and raising the back of it into the air. Voyancer became mist, narrowly avoiding the coach's crushing weight. He flew up above the city wall and sped from the anarchy. The guards did not spot the psionicist, for their attention was on the wreck. Troops came to the scene, shocked to find Veryas's body in the splintered debris.

Voyancer flew back to the farmhouse and found the hunters in a somber mood. Even Fowbip could feel the gloom.

Euphos described the events at the guard station, and Lensus and Voyancer recounted their story. "The guards behave like they are possessed," Euphos began. "They simply refused to do their job, disturbed that the people might get their land back. When I tried to take control, I felt unbelievable corruption in them, a desire to destroy."

Lensus described much the same feeling. "I do not know why, but they are not the people that I've known my whole life. It's like they are possessed, as you say."

Dogues still operated a device. "Lectidomes's military has swept the city, slaughtering all the productive people. They have just pulled the cultists back from the ancient keep, and the cultists have taken the city," he noted.

"The troops should have kept the cult locked up until they could regain control," Voyancer said with a pragmatic tone. "They used the keep to isolate and protect the cultists while they killed everyone else. I do not believe we can save these people . . ."

Tric suddenly flitted inside while bouncing up and down, shaking. Euphos spotted this, then rushed from the farmhouse to see just why Tric had become hysterical.

Battle horns blared and drums thumped from the valley on the opposite side. Figures at the valley top made a line that traveled from north to south--and there were thousands of them. Lensus, Schute, and the hunters came from the farmhouse to witness the sight. "They're here," Schute said. Ogres would have the upper hand in battle with their superior strength, and Euphos estimated thirty to forty thousand warriors and casters. Lectidomes would be destroyed, for Spektros had conscripted the forces, giving the city just a few thousand to defend itself. In its current state more troops would not matter, for Lectidomes would not defend itself even if it had the wherewithal.

"It's time to go," Euphos declared. "I am going home, and everyone here is welcome to come with me."

"I think Phasebios will be the only spot that can defend itself from this," Schute opined. "We can develop a plan, maybe contact Spektros to warn them . . ."

"I will be surprised if Spektros will help," Euphos said. "They stand to gain from all this, for they can come into any city and take control--the ogres give them that possibility. Spektros will be seen as the savior."

"Spektros allowed the ogres in, you say? Purposely?" Schute asked.

"I don't know. That all depends on whether Spektros has the military power to take the cities back. If they do, they will control Phracia like a dictatorship."

"Maybe Spektros is working with Stum Igbo," Voyancer opined. "That's a possibility."

The hunters, Lensus, and Schute fled immediately, riding north toward Tressus, a town on the Thephobium coast where they could hire a ship to carry them back to Phasebios. They stopped at a small town between Tressus and Lectidomes at dusk to avoid undead, then got back on the road at first light. They made Tressus by night and found a ship to take them across the Spectrul waters at dawn. Two days by ship, and they came to Syssimides with the suns still high. They rode fast and made it to Spektros before nightfall.

As they approached the city they found cultists filling up the road, their numbers having multiplied many times since the last time they passed this way. They had built makeshift shacks and grain houses, and refuse filled the road from Syssimides. A second city rose up around Spektros, on its periphery--a ramshackle cultist city.

The hunters came to the city gates and spoke to the guards at the wall. "We have come from Thephobium with dire news. You must let us in."

The guard did not blink. "No one gets in--city is closed. Be on your way," the guard ordered.

"This is in regard to Spektros's future--"

"Go!" the guard yelled.

Euphos spoke to the hunters. "We can ride to my home, and you can stay at the farmhouse close to my swamp. We will be able to discuss matters there."

"Euphos, you must--" Schute started.

"I must what? I must unsee everything I have seen? Become a raving idiot like the rest?"

"It is possible to flee, to go to Siopath, Rontus Pikaurus," Schute reasoned. "We can warn their kingdoms, try to build a new life."

Euphos felt disgust. "Phracia is my home," he spat, "nowhere else. Bas gave us what we need to build this country on liberty. There is nowhere like Phracia. Nowhere else do they value liberty as we do here."

The hunters found shelter that night then rode the whole next day, arriving at Euphos's associate's farmhouse at dusk. Lensus, Schute, and the hunters would make residence there for a time, and Euphos would return to his home at night to hunt and trap.

Tric guided Euphos to the swamp as the dark fell. A whimper came suddenly as the hunter moved, then a groan. Euphos kept watch with Perpetuum, for he would need to strike quickly to avoid being drawn inside a trap. A hunter investigating a whimper might find himself surrounded with vicious hunters, the lure playing on empathy, maybe the desire to find wounded prey. Tric flitted to and fro, finally zeroing in on the source. Euphos could not believe his eyes.

A boy lay on moss, close to a tree, with lines splayed across his skin like rivers--a mark of cipsa. "Boy, did I not tell you to never come back here like this?" Euphos called.

Tiskus groaned louder, and Euphos bent to inspect his eyes. Yellow irises, a fever. Tiskus had come back, infected with cipsa.

"I don't know why I should save you," Euphos grumbled. "I will have to raise you as my own, else you will do as you do." Euphos sighed, then picked the boy up. He did not know why he still fought. His travels around Phracia had only reaffirmed his belief that the Frissians could not be saved. But maybe this boy would give the hunter the opportunity to improve Phracia, raising the boy as his own to become a righteous soul.

Euphos put Tiskus in his pirogue and rowed to his stilt house. When Euphos came close to his dock he noticed footprints on the wood. Euphos always painted a sticky sap coat on his dock and stairs prior to traveling. The sap would keep even when wet and would save prints, alerting Euphos to invaders. Euphos tied his pirogue and gently gave Tiskus water from a bladder to try to keep him quiet. The hunter stepped to the dock and drew his blade, moving silently to the stairs. Euphos had built his stairs to make loud protests when stepped on, noises that would alert the hunter to any who attempted ambush. But Euphos could approach silently because only every other stair would make a noise--a detail only he knew.

Tric flitted to the roof above, able to get a view inside via a shielded gap Euphos had purposely built to allow Tric to scout. Euphos's Tracker returned, refusing to give the hunter a sign about who might be inside. Euphos asked Tric who with his eyes, angry when Tric still did not respond. Anybody in the house? No? Yes? Tric simply would not give Euphos a sign. Perhaps Tric was suffering from spell effects.

Euphos climbed the stairs, thankful that Tiskus kept quiet. The hunter came to the walkway around the house and moved to a window to get a glimpse inside. It was an empty room, but a figure slept in his bed. Euphos could not tell who, with no torches, and night had pressed in. Euphos stepped into his house, into greater dark, and moved toward his bed. He lifted the blanket with his blade edge and threw it to the side. Tric came in and lit up the house at just that moment, and Euphos could see the figure's hair . . . He dropped his blade, unable to control his grip. The clank woke the figure and she twisted quickly to her back.

Pressia.

"The stairs didn't make a sound," she said. "I figured it would be safe."

Euphos could not respond, could not come up with anything to say. Pressia stood and embraced the hunter, wrapping her arms around Euphos as if she had never left. The visions poured back into his being, as if this were the dark alley in that city, the shadowy room lit only by Tric being there, and Pressia the psychotic lapse. Euphos reflexively jerked, but Pressia, this time maybe not just the vision in an episode, held on to him for a long time. He should run, get away from her, from the rogues that made her, for they would kill the hunter, they would hunt Euphos forever, and if he stopped moving they would sink their blades into his back--Euphos the rabbit, the rogues the hunters.

"I . . . I can't control you, Pressia," Euphos said, she being the only thing that drove him to the psychotic episodes. He would need to get straight to the problem, to the nightmare that would haunt him forever. "You will do as you do. I can never put you in shackles, can't force you to stay as I do when I trap my quarry. If I did try, it would be because you desired to go from me, and when that happens, when you do not wish to be with me, then there is no reason to keep you, because all is lost."

Euphos stepped back to get a good look. He still did not know the figure in front of him. She could be flesh and blood or she could be the vision. Everything Euphos remembered--her hair, her eyes, her body--looked as it should. "You did not wish to be with me, and this is why you have gone."

"I'm here, Euphos. I'm back--why do you not see this?" Pressia came closer.

"Why did you come back?" Euphos asked.

Pressia looked disturbed. "Do you not wish to know where I've been?"

"No. You left, and it can only be because you do not wish to be with me. I talked to your friends, to Jeyla, Tara. Their responses said everything."

Euphos walked to the window. "Everywhere I go, I see chaos, the cult, debauchery, disrespect." Euphos looked out at Tiskus in the pirogue. "This I might be able to control. I might be able to change the environment, hunt the wicked, show Frissians the correct way to live. I can worship at Bas's temple, give to their causes, join in their events, live my life just as a Frissian should. I may talk about liberty, about respecting Bas's Keys, warn the people about their ways, give them the gods' wisdom, vote to keep my country intact, all so that I might have control, keep control of my country. I do everything I can to control Phracia, to keep it safe, to keep the spirit of liberty alive because"--Euphos had to force himself to say what he would need to--"because this is the only way I can control you, Pressia." Euphos finished his statement. He looked right at her. "I can't control you, but I can control everything around you, everything you see, touch, feel. I can wrap you up in conspiracy, like my foes, and draw you to my trap." Euphos turned from Pressia. "You are living in a time when there is no hope, a time when everything is corrupt, and I have no way to change this."

But he did have a way.

"There is no hope because the people have rejected the gods and their wisdom. The people will not return to the gods, I know, for I have seen this. And if I can't turn the people from their ways, I can't control you. You must go."

Pressia walked close to Euphos. "Don't you see that I'm back, Euphos? We can go back to the--"

"Why did you come back?" he bit at her. "Tell me." Euphos stared angrily at Pressia.

She hugged herself. "Because I want to be with you--"

"I said, tell me why you came back!" Euphos yelled. He could tell she lied, for there was no warmth in her soul, her body. Pressia could not keep things inside.

"They paid me," she stated.

Euphos could feel a psychotic episode upon him, sick waves taking his body as she confirmed his worst suspicions. She had not come back because she loved him.

"Who?"

"I don't know. A person dressed in black gave me a lot of money." Euphos could only believe Schute had hired this person, trying to persuade Euphos to remake his views. If Pressia came back then Euphos would reconsider his beliefs, would force Euphos to save the people, his country. Euphos would have his wife back, and he would not doom the people to oblivion.

Pressia wept. Euphos stood a while trying to come up with a way to believe that she cried because she loved him, because she could not stand to be away from him. She only wept because she felt guilty, he figured, maybe because she felt sorry. The worst possible case would be that she would stay because she pitied him.

Euphos turned his back to Pressia, not because her pity humiliated him, but because he could not look at her any longer. The memories flooded back--nights with her, days with her. Putting his eyes on Pressia would cause a relapse to that time.

"Go."

Pressia hesitated, but not as long as Euphos secretly hoped. She stepped to the deck that surrounded the stilt house.

Euphos looked to the sky, where the window gave the hunter a southern view. He could not see much sky from his stilt house, for the swamp canopy hid the house just as it should, but he could see a sliver. The trees crowded one another, the vines hanging to the swamp waters, drinking up the warmth, growing wide and long. When Euphos saw a fiery dot in the sky, he surmised that the gods had grown the swamp in just this particular way. They designed it--every tree, every bush, every hunter, to give Euphos this view.

He watched a geizr submerge, its wake the only thing to hint that the hunter had ever been there. Euphos wanted to find an event, a sighting, a vision that would give him hope that Pressia could ever love him again, something to make him believe that Phracia would return and its people would wake up from a twisted slumber. He watched a long while without a sign. As the fiery dot grew, Euphos could feel a rumble at his feet start to build, and he spoke the thing that he never thought he would, the thing not possible.

"Let it come."

\- * -

Tybus stepped from his home in the Visius Mountains. The skies were still light where he lived above the dust, though under the dust the skies choked the land. Phracia had not inhaled the suns' light for Tybus's whole life. The rock that came from above ripped a gash in Thephobium, then put dust in the sky, dust that traveled Repath Aos Vio to darken every sky. Tybus had found a life above, not remembering whether he had ever lived with family. He went high to escape the cloud, to build a new life where people could still grow crops. Tybus could only remember in visions, for he had spent his life above the dust cloud and had been alone as long as he could remember. Today he strode from his home inside the mountain to tend his plants.

The dwarf had built his home within a massive temple constructed inside the mountain. He'd come to believe that elves built the temple, for the tomes in its libraries detailed the elves' history, their battles, their faith, and the values they kept. They lived full lives and kept meticulous histories to give to their children. Tybus had never met an elf, but if he did, he would know that they were a proud people, and he knew he would be privileged to live with them. He did not know if they were still alive after the rock, but in any case, they were alive in the stories. Tybus checked to make sure his plants were growing.

He brought water from a pool at the ridge top and carefully tended his flock of rish, then closed the birds in a wooden enclosure to protect them from any predators that still roamed. Tybus traveled back to the temple and entered at a forested cavern. He spent his day crafting scrolls that he would then attach to baeypits, familiars that would fly long distances in their quests to hunt. Tybus hoped that other people would still be alive, and he gave them the location of Visius with maps. Tybus prepared himself for the fact that survivors could be hostile, but at this point any contact would be welcome.

A baeypit flew back inside the temple, carrying a shiny object with its feet. Tybus did not remember this particular baeypit, and they did return often, but this baeypit seemed to require his focus. It perched at the table and picked at the object it still held. A shine reflected from the object, catching Tybus's eye. Tybus grabbed the object from the baeypit and gave the familiar a crystal in return. The baeybit picked at the crystal just the same as it had the shiny object.

Tybus gripped the object in his hand--a coin. He flipped it over and studied it until he found an inscription: "Os Len des Am." He could not understand the writing but knew where he could find help. He traveled back to the library inside the temple. It would be worth it to translate the coin, if just from curiosity.

Tybus found an elven tome he had discovered cataloged languages from different historical periods. The phonetics sounded like Sabine, even if Tybus had never spoken it with another. He grabbed a scroll, a pen, and oil, then translated the inscription, relatively quickly.

Of . . . grip . . . gods . . . the . . .

Gods' . . . the . . . of . . . hand . . .

Hand of the Reckoners 

## Contents

  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Contents
  4. Prelude
  5. Prologue
  6. Chapter 1
  7. Chapter 2
  8. Chapter 3
  9. Chapter 4
  10. Chapter 5
  11. Chapter 6
  12. Chapter 7
  13. Chapter 8
  14. Chapter 9
  15. Chapter 10
  16. Chapter 11
  17. Chapter 12
  18. Chapter 13
  19. Chapter 14
  20. Chapter 15
  21. Chapter 16
  22. Chapter 17
  23. Chapter 18
  24. Chapter 19
  25. Chapter 20
  26. Chapter 21
  27. Chapter 22
  28. Chapter 23
  29. Chapter 24

