

###### Guardians of Xen

By Ian Shlasko

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2010 Ian Shlasko

For more information on this and the rest of the _Guardians_ saga, visit http://www.serpentooth.com

This book is available in print at many online retailers.

Trade Paperback: 978-1-60145-801-8

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

### Contents

Part I – Apprentice

Part II – Destroyer

Part III – Invader

Part IV – Hunter

Part V – Sentinel

Part VI – Visitor

Part VII – Deity

Part VIII – Alien

# Part I - Apprentice

Black clouds of smoke filled the sky, plunging the villagers into shadow as they rushed to pour water on the burning inn. Every man, woman, and child in the town of Ka'Loen knew their role, having been through this many times in the past few years. The women and children formed a chain, filling buckets with river water and passing them down the line to the fire where they were emptied and sent back. Most of the men had already climbed up to the roofs of the larger houses and were firing arrows into the air, trying to repel the attacking dragons. The foolish magician was, of course, in his shop searching for the rainstorm spell that always seemed to be lost when needed most.

A few of the older folk, too slow and weak to be of any real use, simply stood in the cobblestone streets watching the flames eat through the flimsy wooden structure, and watching the horrible beasts circle in the skies above, spurting out a few last breaths of fire before flying off to the west to their well-protected home in the deep heart of the forest. They never stayed very long, preferring to destroy a few small houses and retreat before the archers could ready themselves. Today, however, was different. For the first time in months, a group of men had journeyed into the forest to end these raids once and for all, and apparently their deaths were not enough to quench the beasts' hunger. This time the target had been the village inn, the social center of Ka'Loen, where the men would gather after a hard day of labor, drinking and singing until the sun set.

Now the inn was gone, or would be shortly since despite the efforts of the villagers, this fire was too large to be quenched so easily. The roof was already gone and the third-floor rooms were burning as the dragon-fire worked its way down. Just then, the buckets stopped and the archers turned as a bright red light bathed the town square. Perhaps the magician had actually found his spell and would save the inn before it became damaged beyond repair. No, this light wasn't coming from Mallus, who was emerging from his magic shop with a curious look on his face. It was simply a point floating in mid-air a few feet from the ground. Then the point of light grew in intensity, expanding into an oval shape as tall as a man and twice as wide. Within the shape, two silhouettes appeared, growing larger...

##

## * * *

The reddish-blue clouds swirled in the sky above, casting strange shadows on the bleak desert landscape of Xen. The mountains blocked the view to the north and south, but the desert stretched as far to the east as the eye could see. From his bedroom window on the upper floor of the royal palace, Xentor could see several small villages nearby and the tiniest speck of red light that marked the location of the Pedestal. There really wasn't much else to see except the occasional caravans bringing supplies between the tiny settlements. That's why he was glad to be finally leaving for a while.

The sky would darken soon, and he wanted to leave while he could still see well enough to use a portal orb, unless of course Relvar insisted on creating one himself. Stopping only to pick up a small metal cylinder laying on his dresser, the young prince left his room and started on his way to the main courtyard.

"Leaving so soon, brother? I was hoping you would at least stay for dinner." She had been waiting in the hallway, not about to miss her chance to bid him farewell. As always, she was dressed to kill, wearing a stunning white dress that revealed every curve of her body and a cloak that let her hide them at will. No one would contest that Xentalia was one of the most beautiful women on Xen, but very few of them would believe that there was no magic involved.

"I've already eaten. Besides, I've heard that there are dishes on that world that make our food seem like desert sand."

"I'm sure we can conjure food just as good as anything on—where did you say you were going?"

"Earth"

"What a miserable little planet. I hope you contacted the Uranans. It's in their territory." She was just thinking of excuses, of course. Xentalia had always been protective of her younger brother, and clearly wasn't ready for him to leave Xen without her.

"Everything's been arranged. The Uranans gave their assent, so long as I don't reveal their presence to the lesser races. Now, I really want to get going, if you don't mind, sis—"

"Why Earth? You have billions of inhabited worlds to choose from, and you choose a miserable little hybrid world that hasn't even discovered dimensional travel yet?"

"There were reasons. They look just like us, for one."

"So do the races on a million other worlds. You know it as well as I."

"Well this one is special. I'm not sure why exactly, but, well, there's something about it... I just have to go there."

She sighed, realizing he'd made up his mind. "Well, good luck brother. Come back soon."

"I will." He smiled to her briefly then made his way down the hallway. This part of the castle was only modestly decorated, with rich red carpeting and golden candleholders on the unpainted, brown, marble walls. The entrance hall, however, was a different story.

The grand staircase that led down to the ground floor of the palace was carved from a solid block of shiny black stone, something Relvar had once referred to as "obsidian." On each side was an intricately carved marble railing, and at the bottom was a bare black floor formed of a single giant slab of black marble. Well, perhaps "carved" would be the wrong word, since no manual labor was involved in the making of Castle Xen. No, this magnificent structure was conjured up many thousands of years ago by one of Xentor's ancestors.

He made his way down the obsidian staircase, looking towards the gold-trimmed double doors on the left wall. There stood Xenlic, captain of the castle guard, waiting in front of the entrance to the throne room, dressed as always in full armor with a pair of Blade Staves at his sides. He wasn't actually a member of the royal family, but the surname was given to him to honor his loyal service for so many years.

"Young prince, his majesty Lord Xen is in conference with the Cairean ambassador, but sends his greetings and wishes you well on your journey!"

"If he actually chose to say so in person, I would probably die of shock. But thank you, Xenlic."

The old soldier paused, looking Xentor over carefully for a short moment. "Where is your weapon, prince?"

Xentor drew the metal cylinder from his pants pocket and held it up as he reached the bottom of the stairs. For decades, Xenlic had been teaching him the art of melee combat with countless different kinds of weapons, and had a habit of pointing out every mistake no matter how minor. He smiled, proud to show his instructor that this time there was no mistake.

"How many times must I tell you, Xentor? Keep it on your belt within easy reach! Do you think your enemy will stand and wait while you search your pockets for it?"

"I'm... sorry. I forgot..." He clipped the six-inch cylinder to his belt, hanging it at his left hip, his moment of pride cut away in an instant.

"Well be sure not to forget when you're out there. I won't be there to protect you."

"I know." He quickly made his way across the entrance hall, and the immense stone doors swung open to allow him passage. Damned soldier! Why must he always be right?

The main courtyard was completely empty. Not a single person could be seen between the main palace and the outer walls. Xentor made his way across the sand-covered expanse to a small cabin near the far corner, the home of Relvar, who over the past few years had been teaching him the art of Xen Magic. Relvar was the most powerful mage on the planet, even more so than Lord Xen himself, Xentor's father. Ranked an Arch-Sorcerer, the old man had every right to claim the throne but preferred to sit on the sidelines and act as an advisor to the rulers and a teacher to the new apprentices. He was excellent in both areas.

"Leaving already, my apprentice? It is still early," Relvar called out as Xentor pushed open the wooden door to the cabin.

"Aye, I'm eager to see Earth."

"Indeed. I have prepared a portal orb for you. Come in."

Xentor walked inside, glancing around as he always did at the dozens of books, documents, orbs, and amulets on the shelves. Some of the books dated back hundreds of years, full of historical records, magical techniques, and anything the old mage decided was worth remembering. Only one important book was missing from his collection, as it was stored under heavy protection in the royal throne room.

Relvar emerged from the back room, dressed in a modest brown shirt and black pants, devoid of the black cloak he always wore in the palace. Many of the older mages seemed to prefer black clothing, though Xentor wasn't sure why.

"Are you sure you're ready to journey alone to an unfamiliar world? You have barely begun your training, and there are those who are unfriendly toward Guardians."

"I've spent nearly my entire life in this castle, Mentor. I only see other worlds when my sire allows me to accompany him on diplomatic missions. Besides, Earth is a primitive world with weak magic, and I can take care of myself in a fight."

"Indeed you can. Xenlic has always been a skilled teacher, perhaps better in his profession than I am in mine. Still, I would prefer you pass at least the Magician test before going out on your own." Despite his words, Relvar was making surprisingly little effort to dissuade him. With a simple glance, a small, dark-red orb lifted off its shelf and floated over to Xentor's hands.

"Thank you, mentor."

"Go now, young apprentice. It is best not to keep a woman waiting." He smiled warmly, then turned and headed into the back room. Xentor turned around, not at all surprised to find Lenalta standing there. She must have teleported over just after he left the palace. He smiled at her, grabbing the portal orb and walking out of the cabin to meet her.

"Your sister said you would be here, love, though she asked me to convince you to stay."

"You wouldn't do that."

"Of course not! I want to see Earth just as much as you!"

He smiled, glad to have her support. Then again, he never suspected otherwise, since she had always supported him no matter how wrong he was. Having her along would make this trip even better. Having her along made _anything_ better. Ever since they met almost five years ago on one of his sire's trips to her home world, they had spent nearly every day together, or at least every night. Whenever Xentor wasn't busy training with Xenlic or Relvar, he would be with Lenalta, pacing along the parapets of the castle walls or on the quiet beaches near the mansion in which she lived. She was no princess, but her father was one of several advisors to her king, and that afforded her family certain privileges. One of those privileges was access to the finest of attire, custom made and imported from any part of the world. This often led Xentor to wonder why she normally dressed in a simple, pale-yellow blouse and an old pair of beige pants.

"Are you sure you have everything you need? It's a long way to Earth," he asked.

"I have you, love. What else do I need?"

He smiled and turned towards the open courtyard. He held the portal orb before him in one hand and waved the other over it slowly. As he was taught, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the Xen Magic. In moments, it appeared in his mind as clouds of differently-colored mists, flowing and combining in all directions. He opened his eyes and the mists remained in his vision, a dense black cloud within the orb itself. Obeying his will, the red mists around the orb moved through the glass to combine with the black, triggering the spell stored within.

As he allowed the mists to fade from his vision, the orb began to glow red, and a point of light formed in the air a few feet in front of them. It slowly expanded, forming an oval shape about the height of a man and twice as wide. The interior clarified, showing a stone path stretching into a world of purplish mists. He pocketed the orb, took Lenalta's hand in his, and stepped onto the path.

"So where on Earth are we going?"

Hmm, good question. When he activated the orb, he never told it exactly where on the planet to take them. Apparently, it chose its own destination. "I have no idea."

They walked in silence for a time, following the narrow stone path through the purple void. Occasionally they would spot a fragment of rock floating aimlessly through the void, and at one point, Xentor thought he spotted another path in the distance. There were hundreds of Xen guardians, constantly traveling to and from countless dimensions, but it was still rare to see one in transit, given the near-infinite size of what they called "Trans-Dimensional Space." No one on Xen or on any of the worlds they'd visited had any idea what Trans-D space actually was. Some people theorized that all of the dimensions exist at the same location in the same way pieces of paper could be layered, and that walking through Trans-D was simply the way you moved from one layer to another. Others thought mortal minds simply could not fathom the concept of dimensional travel, and it was just a hallucination. Regardless, to travel from one dimension to another required a trip through Trans-D, and so they traversed the dangerous area. It was indeed dangerous, since stepping off the path could leave a foolish mage stranded in the void for the rest of his natural life.

Lenalta broke the silence. "What should we tell the Earth people if they ask where we're from?"

"Tell them we're from a far-away village. Just make up a nonsense name. They'll have no reason to doubt us."

"What name should we use?" She seemed a bit nervous. There was no reason to worry, after all. The Earth people were far too primitive to be any kind of threat.

"It doesn't matter. Even if I tell them I'm from Xen, they'll probably think it's a town on the other side of the world."

"Well what if they don't like outsiders? My magic won't be any good in a fight, and you've barely started learning yours."

"I've been training with Xenlic longer than most of the Earth people have been alive."

"I hope you can keep your temper in check, love. You'll probably draw your weapon the moment someone says anything even resembling an insult."

He had to laugh at that. Sure, he tended towards violence a bit more than most, but she made it seem so much worse. "Nay, I don't care what the primitives say about me. Of course, if any fool utters one wrong word to you, I'll cut out his tongue and feed it to him."

She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "Always the guardian, love..."

"Aye"

Several silent minutes later, the end of the path came into view. When they reached it, the second portal would open and they would be delivered to their destination.

Still nervous, Lenalta turned to him again. "So what do we do when we get there?"

"Find the nearest town, and see what happens."

"What if the portal lands us in a town? How will we explain how we appear out of thin air?"

"On a world this primitive, what are the chances of a portal randomly taking us to a populated area?"

Lenalta said nothing, because they had just reached the end of the path. The second portal opened and they stepped into the unknown.

##

## * * *

What were the chances of them landing in the middle of a town? Apparently, better than Xentor expected. He quickly glanced around at the small wooden houses and cobblestone streets. Most of the villagers seemed to be busy passing buckets of water from a small stream to—

"Look, Xentor! That building is on fire!"

He was just about to mention that, but had noticed that most of the villagers had paused in their tasks and were staring at Lenalta and him. Some men were running towards them, armed with swords and axes. He also noticed his hand was already grasping the cylinder on his belt and consciously forced himself to pause, not willing to prove Lenalta right so soon. There had to be a peaceful way out of this.

Wave to the fire, young mage!

What was that? Who said that? He looked around for the source of the strange echoing voice, but no one but Lenalta was that close.

Wave to the fire!

There it was again! Well, the armed men were getting closer, and it couldn't hurt. He kept his left hand on his weapon, raising his right towards the burning building, palm forward. To his surprise, the reaction was nearly instant. A crack of thunder got everyone's attention as a storm cloud materialized above the building. Torrents of rain suddenly poured from it, quenching the fire in moments. Then, just as suddenly as it appeared, it was gone. Xentor just stared, trying to hide his surprise, for obviously whoever summoned that cloud wanted him to take the credit for it.

"I thought you were still an apprentice, love."

That voice again! No, that was Lenalta, whispering into his ear. He spoke softly in reply, keeping his eyes on the villagers. "It wasn't me."

"Then who was it?"

To the magic shop, young one...

Magic shop? He looked around at the nearby buildings, but he couldn't read the signs. How foolish to assume that just because they spoke one of the frame's common languages, that their writings would be just as understandable.

"Hmm, look at that old man. He's not like the rest of them." She was always so observant, both a gift to her and curse to him whenever he made a mistake. Xentor followed her gaze and saw an old man in a dark-grey cloak, walking into a small shop. That struck him as odd, since every other person in the village was cautiously approaching, wondering whom their unlikely savior was.

"He was watching us from the moment we left the portal, as if he was expecting us..."

"Perhaps he was." That was all the proof he needed. That had to be the magic shop, and that man had to be the anonymous mage who had put out the fire. Still holding Lenalta's hand, he ignored the developing crowd and walked calmly towards the shop.

"Who are they?" asked one old woman.

"Stay back, son, they might be demons," warned a father as he held an arm in front of his teenaged son."

"But father, he just saved the inn!" the boy replied.

The inside of the magic shop reminded Xentor of his mentor's cabin. Every wall was covered with books, scrolls, potions, scrolls, amulets, and trinkets he couldn't identify. The old man sat behind the large stone counter in an armchair, looking at Xentor as one would at a pet.

"Greetings, young mage... I am Mallus the Magician, and this is the town of Ka'Loen."

The man knew more than he was letting on, and Xentor decided not to bestow more information upon him than necessary. "I am Xentor, this is Lenalta. Was that voice—"

"Yes, that was me," the old man replied. Lenalta was looking back and forth between them, a bit lost in the conversation.

"You wanted the people to think the rain spell was mine. Why?"

"The villagers think of me as a bumbling fool with barely enough magic to light a pipe. Who am I to dispute that?"

Xentor hesitated long enough to think through the situation. "I suppose I should thank you. You saved me from an unfavorable fight. They'll think of me as a hero—"

"Not quite yet, young one. That fire was the work of dragons, and quenching it will only buy a respite. They will come again, see their failure, and attack more aggressively. The villagers will blame you for angering the great serpents, and you will be offered up as a sacrifice. It will not be pleasant."

Even Lenalta was speechless after that cruel revelation. Was the old magician psychic, or did he plan this from the beginning? Why did he save them from the paranoid townspeople only to let them be killed? Perhaps this was merely a clever lie, but to what end?

Finally, Lenalta spoke up. "You wouldn't tell us that just to scare us, since we could always just go back home and escape the situation. What do you want from us?"

The old man smiled at Lenalta. "Ah, young lady... You have a keen mind to accompany your beauty. No wonder he loves you so strongly."

Now it was Xentor's turn to be speechless. How could the old man know of his feelings for Lenalta?

"You didn't answer my question, milord," she replied.

"Indeed. The issue is not what I want, but what the village needs. The dragons have been raiding us for years without end, and someone must put a stop to it."

Xentor frowned, not quite willing to let a feeble Earth magician give him orders. "Perhaps you overestimate our powers, old man. We aren't prepared to fight even a single dragon, and I assume there are several."

"Fifty-three, to be exact. More if you include the young ones, though I doubt the parents would ever allow you to approach their children. Take the main road west, and follow it into the forest. The dragons will not be difficult to find."

The two of them paused a moment, exchanging a glance. Lenalta was probably thinking the same as him. This old magician had to be completely insane. "Magician, do you really expect us to face fifty-three dragons and survive? A mission like that is surely suicide."

"You underestimate yourself, young one. Go now." With that comment, the old man stood up and walked into the back room with surprising swiftness, closing the door behind him.

"What now, love?"

"If this Mallus person is telling the truth, our only options are to face the dragons or flee the town. I would look like a complete fool to run home to Xen so soon."

"Our lives are more important than your pride, you know."

She was right. She was always right. Then again, perhaps there was more to the situation than either of them had seen. The old man was clearly more powerful and knowledgeable than he looked, and didn't seem like the kind of fool who would suggest a hopeless quest. Somehow, the old mage expected them to complete the quest, so either he wanted them dead or it truly was feasible. If he wanted to kill them, why allow Xentor to take credit for the rainstorm?

Xentor contemplated this for a moment, and then turned to Lenalta. "Which road did he say to follow?"

"He said to take the main road west and—Wait, are you actually thinking of walking into the dragons' den?"

He nodded once in reply, then turned and walked outside with Lenalta nervously following. This time, he would prove her wrong.

##

## * * *

The villagers had been crowded around the magic shop, but now quickly moved aside as their unlikely savior emerged. They expected him to stop or at least say something, but he just kept walking, right to the center of town. There, Xentor hesitated, turning full-circle as he looked at all of the roads leaving the town in different directions. He turned towards the crowd, which had unsurprisingly followed close behind.

"Where is the western road?"

Suddenly the silent crowd came to life, the villagers in shock.

"He's going to fight the dragons!"

"He'll save us all!"

"Hail, dragon slayer!"

"Dragon slayer! Dragon slayer!" The chanting began, loud and annoying. They were inches away from dropping to their knees to praise his courage, but Xentor had no intention of staying. Even as the first cries went out, several fingers had already pointed out the road he desired, and even as the rhythmic chanting had begun, Xentor and Lenalta were on their way to the dragon forest.

Lenalta simply followed him. She suppressed her fear and doubt, and drew upon the little courage that remained. He was leading them to a fiery death, but still her heart commanded her to follow him. The buildings shrank into the distance behind them, and the trees grew so large and thick that they could have hidden a castle from a flock of eagles. The only light was filtered through the leaves, and so the entire forest had an eerie, green glow. The path itself became harder to follow, covered in part by bushes and vines, and their progress slowed until they rounded the third bend.

There, everything changed. In the space of a dozen steps, the underbrush vanished completely and the tree growth thinned so much that an arrow could travel a mile without striking a single trunk. Before, it would have been nearly impossible to travel off the path, but now there was no need for a path at all. Lenalta stopped for a moment and looked back the way they came. The thick forest behind them looked like a rock wall, as if something had come through here and neatly trimmed away the trees on this side of some imaginary line.

Xentor's voice broke the silence. He was standing a few steps ahead, waiting for Lenalta to catch up. "Plenty of room between these trees... Enough to spread one's wings..."

"Well, it _is_ a forest of dragons, love. Maybe we should turn around before we disturb them."

"Turn around already? We haven't even introduced ourselves yet." He smiled, extending his hand to her.

She paused a moment, staring at his expression. If he was any other man, she would have thought him completely insane, but she knew him too well. She took his hand and continued walking. "There's something you're not telling me."

He walked alongside her, staying quite calm but keeping an eye on the surrounding forest. "No, there's something the old man wasn't telling us."

"What?"

"I don't know, but something he said just doesn't seem right. This might all be some kind of... test."

"What if it isn't?"

"We'll find out soon enough."

Then, in the distance, she saw it. It was the largest animal she'd seen in her entire life, over a hundred feet long and covered from snout to tail in green scales. She was about to mention it to Xentor, but he was already looking in that direction, his left hand hovering over the silvery cylinder on his belt. Luckily, it wouldn't be needed, since the dragon was asleep—another one! Almost completely camouflaged, the second dragon was solid brown, blending perfectly with the bare dirt. There! Another! And another! Everywhere she looked, there were more dragons of all colors and sizes, flying through the trees, paying little heed to the two travelers. Two more on the left, six on the right, and one—

"Xentor, there's one on the path!" Indeed, a red-scaled dragon was landing on the path directly ahead, staring at them with narrowed eyes.

"A skilled warrior knows how to fight. A smart warrior also knows _when_ to fight." He didn't seem to be afraid, or at least he didn't show it. He just walked straight towards the dragon. He had to be out of his mind.

She tried to distract herself from imminent death. "W—what was that?" She took his hand in hers as they approached the waiting dragon.

"Something Xenlic used to say..." He stopped a short distance in front of the beast, looking it over carefully. The dragon stood there and growled slightly.

She slowly moved her right hand to her left sleeve, going for the small dagger hidden there. It would not be much use against such an adversary, but it was all she had.

He held a hand in front of her, clearly signaling her not to draw her blade. "Dragon, we would speak to your master."

The serpent made no move toward them, but wisps of smoke rose from its nostrils as it growled once more.

Lenalta spoke softly, her voice quivering slightly. She was trying to be brave, but this was no longer simply a walk through the woods. "I don't think it understands you..."

Xentor grasped the cylinder and spoke a bit more firmly. "We have not come to fight, but we will defend ourselves if necessary. Where is your master?"

Another wisp of smoke, and the dragon inhaled deeply. Time seemed to stand still, as she was sure it would roast them instantly. Then, it turned its head and blew a long, thin stream of fire a bit to the right of the direction they were walking. A moment later, it turned towards them and leaped forward, spreading its wings and flying over their heads and into the air.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and inhaled sharply. It was Xentor, of course. He spoke softly to her. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, taking a deep breath. "I guess he did understand you."

"And he showed us the way."

Moments later, they were on their way. They held hands tightly as they walked, Xentor's left hand still hovering. He seemed calm, but Lenalta could tell he was just as scared as she was. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the winged serpents keeping track of them, probably acting as an escort as they continued towards... something. She looked over her shoulder to watch the nearest one breathing jets of flame in seemingly random directions, and then Xentor again broke the silence.

"I think we've arrived."

She turned forward to see a rock wall with a pair of large boulders on the sides. A large stone slab spanned the ground between them, and on that slab laid a dragon that put all the rest to shame. This one had to be five times the size of the first, its scales shimmering in every color of the rainbow. Its leathery wings stretched the length of its body even when folded, and its mouth was so large that just one razor-sharp tooth was as big as Lenalta's entire body.

"T—this must be the king..."

"Aye" was Xentor's only response. He stopped at the edge of the rock slab, and looked carefully at the immense dragon.

Queen, actually. Goddess would be more precise. Now who are these two delicious morsels, who tread into the heart of my domain unarmed?

The voice boomed out of nowhere, but somehow she knew it was from the dragon. This had to be the end. They had walked into a forest full of dragons, and were now confronting the leader, a dragon goddess. She decided if there was any chance of survival, she had best be polite. "I am Lenalta, milady."

Xentor had other plans. Using the old magician's words as a basis for his reasoning, he had realized that the dragons were not hostile, and would most likely not attack unless provoked. This had proven true so far, but he had not counted upon a goddess leading the magnificent beasts. This minor deity clearly intended to kill them, so his next words could mean the difference between life and dinner. Luckily, the many diplomatic missions on which he had accompanied his sire had not been in vain, for Xentor presented himself with the full dignity of a prince and a Guardian. He stood tall, looked the goddess in the eye, and spoke proudly.

"We are not morsels. I am Sorcerer Prince Xentor of the Dimension of Xen..." Then, on impulse, he added, "And I am never unarmed." Lenalta gasped audibly at his introduction, glaring at him as if chiding him for his disrespect. He, however, kept his gaze locked on the dragon, and with no hesitation, the booming voice of the goddess came again.

Your pride is not a weapon, mortal. I should roast you right now for your blatant lies.

"I speak no lies, goddess."

Our legends speak of Xen, a race of gods who wield magic fire so powerful it could incinerate the world and claws so sharp they could cut through solid rock as easily as air.

He nearly smiled at that remark, but managed to keep his expression tame. With one smooth motion, his left hand grasped the metallic cylinder and pulled it away from his belt. As his hand lifted forward, away from his body, he made a lightning-fast motion with two of his fingers, triggering the extension. Both ends of the six-inch cylinder shot out like harpoons, telescoping to a point so sharp that the human eye could not even see the end of the blade. It made a high-pitched sound, like two swords being simultaneously drawn from metal sheathes, ringing for a moment before silencing. A fraction of a second after his hand had begun to move, the six-foot-long Blade Staff was held horizontally before him.

Pausing only a split-second to display his weapon, he curled his right hand around the handle, spun it once, and sliced downward through the rock slab on which the mighty dragon lay. Only a blur could be seen as the Xianite blade passed effortlessly through the stone, leaving a visible gash. As the staff came up, his left hand made another lightning-fast movement and he was once again holding a harmless-looking six-inch-long metal cylinder. He calmly touched it to his belt and it adhered as before.

Lenalta was clearly shocked at that display, probably expecting the dragons to attack, but the silence of the goddess gave Xentor confidence.

"Your legends speak true, goddess."

The booming voice returned, quieter now, and shaking slightly.

I have spoken in error, ancient one. You have my most humble apologies. How can I be of service, milord?

This was a time for diplomacy. What would Lord Xen say in this situation? How would he respond without insulting the deity or letting her know of his inexperience? Lenalta answered for him, bowing her head slightly as she spoke.

"Your apologies are welcome but unneeded, milady. We failed to properly announce ourselves, and I'm sure you would have responded differently had you known earlier."

Quite different, I assure you. How can a humble deity serve you, great ones?

"We have come to inquire about your attacks on the village of Ka'Loen," she continued.

Three years ago, a group of mortals from that town invaded this forest and slaughtered one of my children. I swore revenge on the town, but could not bring myself to destroy so many innocent lives. Instead, every three days I send two of my best warriors to destroy a single building, to remind them of their crime.

Lenalta hesitated, but this time Xentor was ready. "I'm sure many humans were killed in those attacks, whether or not that was your intention. How many lives will you take before you consider your loss avenged?"

I have taken far too many already. Every attack threatens to kill more of them, and risks the lives of the brave serpents chosen to carry out my wrath. Yet if I stop, the humans may consider it weakness and attack my forest. Many on both sides would die in that struggle, and I cannot allow it. Only their fear keeps them from such a foolish confrontation.

"Then we must make peace."

_Yes_.

##

## * * *

"Dragon slayer! Dragon slayer!" The chant began mere moments after Xentor and Lenalta entered the town of Ka'Loen for the second time. The villagers hastily put their tasks on hold and ran to greet the returning heroes. A few were disappointed, expecting to see proof of the slayer's victory, but the rest simply assumed their problems were over.

Xentor and Lenalta walked hand-in-hand to the middle of town, then stood still and silent as the entire town gathered around them, waiting for a victory speech. Even Mallus the Magician had left the safety and solitude of his shop and was standing outside to watch and listen. If not for the mob of excited townspeople between them, Xentor would have seen by Mallus's expression that he already knew the truth.

Xentor exchanged a glance with Lenalta, smiling warmly until she nodded. He raised his hands high to silence the cheering crowd, and then began the speech he had already written down in his head. "People of Ka'Loen, your war with the dragons is over!"

As expected, the people cheered once more, and Xentor waited for silence before continuing. "In a few moments you will have a visitor, and any man who even raises a weapon to this honored guest will answer to me! Is that understood?"

There was no need to silence the crowd this time. They were speechless, merely looking at each other, trying to figure out what the slayer meant. A few children in the front simply nodded their heads eagerly, and that was all the approval Xentor needed, or for that matter expected. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, holding his left hand, palm-up, in front of him at chest height. He had done this before, with Relvar watching, but the people around him made him nervous. Slipping into his second vision, he saw the multi-colored mists that in his mind represented the Xen Magic. At his mental command, a red cloud began to shape itself, forming a hollow sphere just above his palm, interacting with the air and forming a sort of barrier that would stop the gases within from escaping. Another sustained thought, and a blue cloud moved into the sphere, beginning to separate some of the molecules in the air to form different gases. Then, while concentrating on the other two activities, he sent a black cloud into the sphere to heat it and to ignite it.

As the villagers watched, a small ball of fire magically appeared above Xentor's palm, burning bright orange. After nearly a half minute of silence, the fist-sized fireball was rather disappointing and a few of them actually laughed at the tiny magical display. Xentor didn't care. The townspeople had no idea how much effort went into even the simplest magic, and how powerful this magic would be when Xentor had mastered it. Magic was based on science, as strange as that seemed to most people. The particles of the Xen Magic could be mentally controlled by anyone with the right abilities, but the laws of each universe still required certain things to be done before any spell could work properly. A fire needed fuel and air, and in this case protection from the wind so as not to be immediately blown out. All of these had to be kept in perfect balance, or nature would take over and the fireball would last no more than a few moments before vanishing.

Keeping the fireball contained, fueled, and heated, he formed a white cloud of magic below it and shot it upward into the air. The tiny flame left a bright red streak in its wake, climbing high into the sky before passing out of Xentor's range and burning itself out. He hoped that would be enough of a signal.

It was.

Only seconds later, there came a loud roar from the west, and a magnificent multicolored dragon flew over the town. It was the dragon goddess herself, as Xentor expected. He opened his eyes and relaxed his second vision, letting the clouds of magic disappear from his view. He looked up at the approaching dragon, and felt Lenalta take his hand and squeeze it gently, as if to say 'Well done.'

Suddenly, Xentor's magic was no longer a joke. After all, he had summoned the mightiest dragon in the forest, and brought it straight to the town. That was what the villagers believed, and Xentor was in no hurry to tell them otherwise. He would let the deity speak for herself. The difficult part would be restraining the more aggressive villagers long enough for her to land.

The chaos had already begun. Some of the villagers drew their arms and prepared to fight, a greater number held them back in fear of Xentor's wrath, and an even greater number simply ran to their homes to hide. This had to be controlled, or the entire plan would fall apart. "Sheath your swords or feel my blade! This dragon comes to you in peace!"

"If you kill this one, over four dozen more will come to avenge its death, and you will _all_ die!" Lenalta had a way of convincing people, and not a single person disputed her threat. They all retreated from the main square to give the mighty beast room to land, and nearly all of them put away their swords and bows.

The dragon landed, in all her glory.

Greetings, mortals. I am the ruler of the forest dragons, and I have come to propose peace with your village.

Everything was going according to plan. Now it was up to the villagers to make the right move. From the back of the crowd, one man bravely stepped forward, handing his sword to another and approaching the goddess. Ka'Loen had no ruler, but apparently this man spoke for the town. "Hail, dragon! What is the reason for this sudden proposal?"

For three years, my people have attacked your town to exact revenge for the death of one of my children. I now realize that blood debt has been paid in full, many times over. I never intended this much death and suffering. I only meant to keep your people from attacking us again.

"No! Three years ago, a group of brave explorers set out from this town to find the far end of the great forest. You dragons mercilessly tortured and killed them!"

Your 'explorers' stumbled upon my cave while I was away, and slaughtered one of my children. Even so, they were given a clean and painless death.

"Then perhaps we should give you a painless death, dragon!"

"ENOUGH!" Lenalta strode boldly over to them, planting herself between the dragon and the negotiating villager. "Meaningless threats will not end this! What proof do either of you have of what really happened three years ago?"

"One of the explorers escaped the dragon's massacre and told us all!"

Lenalta looked the man straight in the eye, lowering her voice. "Then let him speak."

The crowd parted and someone stepped nervously forward. It was a boy, perhaps ten years of age, trembling in fear. The others pushed him forward, and he stopped a few feet in front of them.

Ah, I remember this child. I did not notice him that day until after I had killed the others, and despite my rage, I could not bring myself to destroy a helpless child. I released him, and instructed him to tell your people what happened, and what price they would pay for it.

"Lies! The boy told us exactly what happened, worm! He said—"

Lenalta frowned, glaring at him as her voice overpowered his. "The boy can speak for himself!" She looked over at the trembling child, then slowly walked over to him, kneeling beside him in a friendly manner. She spoke calmly and softly, as a mother would to her son. "What happened that day, child?"

The boy hesitated and looked around at the other villagers, but reluctantly began to speak. "W—we tried to get past the woods...and...and we found a cave...we...we went in and there were little tiny dragons...m—my dad said they were evil...and...and...he chopped one up...then...that big dragon...it...it..." The boy trailed off, starting to cry softly. Lenalta put her arm around him, trying to comfort him. After a few moments, the man spoke, his tone much calmer, almost apologetic.

"All I remember hearing when the boy returned was that his father and the other men were killed by dragons. We never...that is, we didn't care if there was a reason. It seems the dragon speaks the truth, but this still does not excuse the countless deaths during your attacks in the past years."

Indeed, it does not, but I can make no excuse for those. At first, I wanted to make your people pay, but when that faded, it was too late to stop. I feared that if I halted the raids, you would see weakness and attack us. You would not succeed, but many of my people would have died in that struggle along with all of yours, and I could not allow it. I cannot bring back those who have been killed, but I can offer this. If you agree to peace, then from this day forth, your town and the surrounding area will be under my protection. Any foreign foe who seeks the conquest of this land or town will answer to my brethren.

The man paused, turning to look back at the villagers, many of whom nodded in silent reply. "Your offer is accepted, dragon. From this day forward, there shall be peace between us."

Finally, as if it had merely been repressed during this long confrontation, a cheer sprang up from the villagers, louder than before. They no longer chanted for Xentor, who stood silently in the back of the crowd, or for Lenalta, who now returned to his side and kissed him passionately on the lips. No, they cheered for the dragon, and for peace. They had suffered for three years, and their reward would be nearly a century of absolute peace and security. Of course, nothing lasts forever.

#

# 

# Part II - Destroyer

"One of the most important lessons a mage of Xen learns, is that time is not a constant. In a single dimension, time will always move forward at a predictable rate, but every dimension has its own rules. For instance, there have been rumors of a dimension where time moves nearly one thousandth of the frame standard. If you were to travel there and spend one standard day, you would return home to find that over two and a half years had passed for everyone else. Likewise, an inhabitant of that world could visit Xen for a decade and return to find that only a few days had elapsed since his departure. This presents numerous problems to Guardians, who must maintain the peace throughout the frame.

"Though even time is not constant between dimensions, a well-traveled mage may notice that nearly three-quarters of all inhabited dimensions follow similar timelines, over half of the civilized races have a humanoid body structure, and over a quarter of them even speak the same language. This has been used as the primary argument of those who preach the existence of a single being who created the entire frame."

"So if time is so inconstant, why can we not manipulate it as we do other forces, mentor?"

"Because, young prince, physical forces can move freely in any direction and interact with opposing forces. Time only moves in one direction, and it cannot be reversed. It is impossible to move an object backwards on a one-directional path."

"Then it should be possible to travel forward in time."

"Have you not been listening, my apprentice? I have spoken of dimensions with time factors in the thousands." Arch-Sorcerer Relvar rarely gave a simple solution when teaching. He preferred to see Xentor find the answer on his own, however difficult the problem. Fortunately, Xentor was no fool.

"I see. Travel to a dimension with a high time factor, wait a predetermined amount of time, and return. It is not instant time travel, but it is effective."

Relvar smiled. "Precisely. Now this lesson is over. I must meet with Lord Xen at once. Farewell, young prince." At that, the great Arch-Sorcerer vanished, leaving no trace.

Xentor took a deep breath, and slipped into his second vision, letting the clouds of magic appear in his mind. Given a well-rehearsed pattern of instructions, the colored clouds swirled about each other with uncanny precision. In a mere moment, a point of light appeared before Xentor and sprang open into an oval-shaped dimensional portal. Without hesitation, Xentor stepped briskly into Trans-D space, leaving Relvar's cabin behind.

Less than a minute later, an identical portal opened in the center of Ka'Loen, and Xentor walked out, his shoulder-length brown hair blown behind him by the cool breeze. Lenalta was waiting for him. She always was.

##

## * * *

Ninety-eight years had passed since Xentor and Lenalta made peace between the humans and dragons, and very little had changed. Villagers died peacefully of old age, and new births graced the town several times a year. Ka'Loen itself had grown from an insignificant village to what could be called a city. Refusing to swear loyalty to any established kingdom, the town created its own government, a council composed of five elected leaders. Each of them would keep power until the village collectively decided otherwise, or until they could no longer deal with the responsibility. There was little need for this kind of organization, but it made other kingdoms a bit less eager to claim Ka'Loen as their own, in case the city walls and the trained archers were not enough of a deterrent. The dragons were no longer hostile, but would still make short work of any invading army.

All of this development was largely influenced by one man, whom all of the people trusted completely. Mallus the Magician had lived in the town almost since its creation, never aging a day, and had a great deal of intelligence and wisdom to make up for his complete lack of magical talent. Well, that's what the villagers thought. Ninety-eight years had simply passed him by, and few even raised an eyebrow.

Lenalta watched Xentor emerge from the portal, then approached happily. "How was your lesson, love?"

"Long, but worthwhile. Have you heard from your father yet?"

Lenalta smiled for a moment. "Did he teach you how to read minds today? My father contacted me this morning. The ambassadors are due to arrive this evening, and he wants me to be there."

Xentor returned the smile, moving his hands to her sides. "Would you like some company?"

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Having a Guardian there might make them nervous, love. Don't worry...I'll be back by tomorrow morning."

"I'll be waiting."

She stepped away and reached out with one finger, slowly drawing a rectangle in mid-air with yellow light. When it was complete, she tapped the center and stepped into the portal that instantly formed. The portal vanished a moment later, and she was gone.

Xentor let out a loving sigh and headed for the magic shop, nodding a quick hello to a few villagers as they passed by him. No matter his mood, and no matter how hard Relvar's lessons, talking to Lenalta always had the same effect. He could still remember the first time he felt that effect, on a routine diplomatic mission to a previously unknown world. The civilization living there was almost entirely based on magic, and was developing very quickly. Not only were they a peaceful race, but Lord Xen's advisors suggested that they might become allies in the future. When Xentor followed his father into the large room to dine with the diplomats and their families, he never expected to find true love on a foreign world. Once the Prince of Xen met the humble daughter of their Chairman of Off-World Affairs, nothing could separate them.

He still traveled with his father now and then, but time wore on. As Relvar had said, time only moves in one direction. Back then, he was a child, merely along for the ride, his presence tolerated by the foreign dignitaries. Now he traveled as a prince and heir, sometimes an active participant in Lord Xen's politics. He had seen nearly a hundred-fifty winters, as the people on this world termed it, but he no longer remembered most of them.

When Xentor stepped into the magic shop, Mallus was sitting behind the counter, clearly expecting him.

"Ah, Xentor. I take it your lesson went well?"

"Of course."

"Where is your woman? I don't think you have ever been here without her."

"At home. She has to help her father greet some ambassadors. She'll return tomorrow."

Mallus nodded and retreated to the back room of his shop, something on his mind. Xentor shrugged and sat down in the chair in the corner to practice the energy shields Relvar had just taught him to create.

Most new mages would spend a few hours each day under Relvar's watchful eye, learning everything they could before their daily session ended. Xentor was different. He would visit Relvar once a week and only stay long enough for his mentor to teach him the basic concepts of a certain aspect of Xen Magic. After that, he would return to Ka'Loen and spend the rest of the week practicing and perfecting those techniques until they become reflexive and he could perform them with a mere thought. This tactic was what made him so much more powerful than the other similarly ranked mages. While they had to concentrate on each action, he could act on instinct and his magic would follow. Of course, these reflexes were not so easy to develop.

Several hours later, he had almost managed to form a weak energy shield, when a young man burst into the shop, stumbling slightly as his loose tunic snagged itself on the door latch.

"My Lord," he began, as he carefully freed his clothing, "I was sent by your sister—"

Xentor held up a hand to silence him, carefully watching the energy shield as it faded. He could learn nearly as much by studying the magic as by practicing it. When the faint glow had vanished, he looked up at the visitor. He had seen him around the palace, but couldn't recall his name. He could see the magic spiraling in around the boy, just as it would do for any Xen Guardian, and could roughly estimate his potential. This youth would be stronger than Xentor one day, it seemed, and he had only heard of one apprentice ranked an Arch-Sorcerer.

"Yes, Akto. What is the message?"

The man hesitated, his eyes widening and his mouth curling into a slight smile. He seemed honored to be recognized by one of the royal family. Diplomacy often seemed to involve letting others think you knew more than you did, and Xentor had picked this lesson up readily.

"Oh yes, the message. The Lady Xentalia requested that you return home immediately. She... She said there's been a catastrophe."

The final word grabbed Xentor's attention immediately. His sister was always calm and collected, and would never use such a word casually. Even before he stood, he had already opened a portal, and the apprentice followed him through Trans-D space to the entrance hall of Castle Xen.

Xentalia was waiting for him, clutching a blue orb, with Treloc beside her in a formal red tunic. The two of them had been together for years now, and would become husband and wife in a few weeks. This, however, was no happy occasion, as her expression clearly showed.

Xentor closed his portal and looked to her, concerned. "What happened? Why did you contact me?"

"We... we received a... a message..." Princess Xentalia was hesitating. She always spoke smoothly. This was worse than her message had suggested.

"What happened, sister?"

She took a deep breath, started to speak, and then stopped herself. She lowered her head sadly and spoke softly. "Show him."

Treloc kept his expression completely neutral, something all diplomats learned at some point in their life. "We received this message an hour ago, milord." He extended his hand and began conjuring an illusion. It showed a man whom Xentor recognized as Lenalta's father. The man spoke.

"Noble Guardians, we are in dire need of your help! Our world is under attack! Over a dozen kingdoms have already been destroyed, and our mages cannot protect us much longer! Please help—oh no... no... No!" The image erupted into flames and the man's scream was cut off.

Xentor simply stared.

Treloc lowered his hands, dissipating the illusion. "We sent fifteen Guardians to investigate. They saw hundreds of huge starships bombarding the planet with plasma shells. I'm afraid there were no survivors."

Lenalta's world was destroyed, and her with it. His love was dead. He did not shed a tear or utter a word. He simply stood there and stared, as something died inside him.

"Brother, are you alright?"

Xentor said nothing.

Xentalia looked to her soon-to-be husband, and he continued slowly. "The ships left the planet a few minutes ago, and two of my best mages are trailing them, milord. We will soon know the identity of the attackers."

Xentor closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Without a word to Xentalia or Treloc, he turned to the double doors and stormed into the throne room. His sire, Lord Xen, was waiting.

"You have heard." His father was a man of few words.

"Yes, sire."

"And you desire my counsel."

"Yes, sire...I... I'm confused... I don't know what to feel... how to feel..."

"What do you feel?"

"Nothing, sire."

"You must deal with this loss in your own way, my son, as I did when your mother was killed."

Xentor nodded silently. As he turned and walked out, he kept asking himself the same questions. Why did she have to die? Was it fate? Was it random chance? Was this someone's idea of revenge? What had he done to warrant this kind of revenge?

The doors opened for him, and he stepped out into the entrance hall. Xentalia had left, but Treloc was still there, holding a rolled-up piece of paper. "Milord, a messenger just brought this from one of the settlements in the northern desert."

Treloc tossed the paper to Xentor, who caught it and unrolled it. There were two lines of runes, drawn in a nearly forgotten dialect.

If war doth come, magic shalt fall.

If machine discovers magic, war shalt come, save one.

"What does this mean?"

"I do not know, milord. The messenger said something about a prophecy."

"Keep this. It may be of use in the future." He handed the paper back to Treloc and started to conjure a portal, but was interrupted when Lord Xen called out from the open throne room behind him.

"Xentor!"

A moment later, he stood again before his father. "Yes, sire?"

"Our new enemies are the Telthans."

"Sire, I thought they were primitives."

"We underestimated them. I have contacted our allies. There will be a full strike."

Xentor was already forming a portal. He had heard the name 'Telthan' before, and he knew where to find their home planet. They killed Lenalta, and they would pay. They killed his love, and they would die for it. He would have his revenge!

##

## * * *

The yellowish light faded, revealing the interior of the portal chamber. The golden spheres atop the four pillars ceased to glow, and Lenalta stepped off the raised platform between them. She glanced around at the white walls and carpeted red floor, trying to remember how many weeks it had been since she was last here. Ka'Loen had become home for the two of them, and this place was beginning to feel like a foreign land. She barely recognized the robed man who hurried in from the room across the hall.

"It's about time you got back, girl! The ambassadors are due to arrive any minute!" Now she remembered why she had avoided this place. Only her father treated her with any respect at all. This man was merely a cook, and even he looked down on her.

"Where is my father?"

"You can't be seen like that! Go home and put on some halfway-decent attire!"

"Yes, milord." She hurried out of the portal chamber and towards the main entrance, sighing to herself. If her father were not one of the king's trusted advisors, she would not even be welcome in the palace. They were all too happy when she left to spend extended periods on Earth or Xen, rather than annoy them with her presence. She could see the pained expressions on their faces whenever Xentor joined her here, since they would not dare to insult one of the Xen Guardians despite their hatred for her.

She left the palace through one of the lower walkways, emerging on a well-maintained stone path that led around the curved bay towards a small cluster of luxury homes. It did not take her long to don one of her more formal dresses and the accompanying jewelry. As much as she hated the façade, disappointing her father was not an option.

As she left the house, she stopped for a moment on the small patio to look out over the water. The sky was nearly clear, with only a few sparse clouds, and the water was still and translucent. Even the waves out beyond the reef were calmer than usual. Before the city was built, this was a little-known tropical paradise, and surprisingly little had been spoiled. The jungle remained, with palm trees spotting the beach and denser foliage further from the water, but now the palace dominated the view. The structure itself was one huge sphere, covered in gold so it reflected the sunlight brilliantly. The lower portion contained many ramped entranceways and a tripod-like support structure, but the upper part, which could be seen above the treetops from many miles away, had only magically-concealed windows, as not to mar its beauty. When visitors came to the palace, they were often happy to arrive in a portal room across the bay and walk in, rather than miss the extraordinary view.

Of course, Lenalta had grown up here, and did not have time to enjoy the scenery. She hurried back to the palace and found one of the servants waiting for her at the entrance.

"Hurry up, girl! The ambassadors have already arrived!" He put a hand roughly on her shoulder and started speed-walking towards the dining hall, pushing her along at a speed which was rather difficult in high-heeled shoes.

"Where are they from, anyway?"

"Oh, something with a T... What was it? Telthan, or something of the sort. They're rather strange-looking. Now get in there and try to pretend you have some class!" He hurried back towards the entrance, and she could hear him murmuring to himself. "Stupid wench..."

She sighed and stepped through the golden double doors as they magically opened for her. As the assorted diplomats turned to look, she attempted a small curtsey and a smile, and did a far better job on the first. Somehow seeing dozens of people pretending to tolerate her did not encourage a pleasant expression. Only her father was truly happy to see her, and she sat down in the empty chair next to him.

"And this, ambassador, is my daughter, Lenalta."

"Of course," spoke the Telthan ambassador. She looked towards the far end of the table and saw a hideous green form that looked similar to one of the aquatic animals she and Xentor had seen on Earth. It had five tentacles that seemed to serve as arms, and three thicker ones used as legs. On top of that, its voice sounded oddly mechanical and did not seem to match its form at all.

"Are we awaiting any more late arrivals," it continued, "or shall we begin?" Now she understood it. The voice was coming from a small metal device on its torso, or perhaps its chest. Apparently, these Telthans were a technological race, for that device, which had to be a translator, did not look remotely magical.

"We are all assembled, ambassador, and let me once again welcome you to our world. We aim to establish peaceful relations with all of our brothers across the frame." Of course, Lenalta's father would do most of the talking, while the king sat and watched the proceedings.

"That is our goal as well. We have come to present you with a valuable gift. Your world is being given the opportunity to join the Telthan Empire. You will retain leadership of your planet, subject to the will of his greatness, Emperor Taksal."

The room was completely silent for several long moments before the king stood and made his presence known. Lenalta could feel the tension mounting as he spoke.

"We respectfully decline your so-called gift, ambassador. We will not swear loyalty to your empire or any other."

"We understand," the alien replied. "We will modify the offer. You will join the Telthan Empire, or you will perish. Decide."

The king was outraged, and brought his fist down on the table as he spoke. "You come to our planet on a diplomatic mission, then threaten to destroy us? This will not be tolerated! Guards, seize them!"

The Telthans remained completely calm as several armed guards drew their swords and approached the table. "We accept your decision. You will die."

The following events happened so quickly, they seemed a blur. One of the ambassador's attendants produced some kind of small device, and the guards simultaneously dropped dead. A number of the diplomats rose from the table and ran for the doors to escape. The king and three of the attending mages raised their hands and began to make gestures. Lenalta's father ran for the communications chamber to call for help.

Lenalta didn't move at all.

Suddenly, the entire palace began to shake as an enormous, bright ball of energy plunged down from the heavens. It landed in the ocean a short distance from the bay, and the effect was devastating, sending huge tidal waves towards the shore and washing away the smaller structures in moments. Only the quick reflexes of the palace mages saved the golden sphere from destruction. A white force field surrounded the palace, isolating it from the fury of the ocean, but it would not protect them forever. Only moments after the first waves retreated, another of the horrible balls of energy slammed down on the jungle slightly inland, spitting up a huge cloud of dust and ashes, and almost-instantly igniting the largest forest fire ever seen in the area. The same thing occurred all over the planet, but when the palace mages weakened and fell, and the dining hall was engulfed in a ball of liquid plasma, the room was already empty.

##

## * * *

Even as the oval-shaped doorway closed and faded, a crowd had already developed, startled by the arrival of the stranger. They did not know of any devices that could make that type of doorway, and the stranger did not seem to be carrying much at all. In fact, he carried only one visible item: A small metal cylinder clipped to his belt.

Xentor gazed at his surroundings in a mixture of awe and anger. The reports of Telthan Prime were clearly outdated, for this was no primitive world. He was standing on the intersection of two identical-looking paths, each over fifty feet wide. Buildings bounded the paths on either side, so tall that they extended through the clouds and out of sight. Directly above these paths, people buzzed through the air on small machines, though they were too high to distinguish much detail. Everything was organized in a perfect grid-like fashion, right down to the metal tiles covering the ground and the movement patterns of the flying machines.

He then turned to the people forming an ever-larger crowd around him. He had no information about the Telthans themselves, but there were all different humanoid races here, all trying to get a good look at him. The crowd itself did not bother him much, as he had gotten used to this sort of treatment whenever visiting a world not yet familiar with the Guardians. No, the crowd was not important. The city was not important. Revenge was important.

"I have come to speak to your ruler," he said calmly. The crowd remained silent. He then realized that they had not made a single sound, even when he arrived moments ago. This was definitely unusual.

"Where is your ruler?" Still, they did not respond. Finally, a small group of armored humans pushed their way through the crowd, carrying what looked like spears.

One of the armored ones called out a single word: "Disperse!" Immediately, the crowd dissipated, the people heading off in different directions, presumably to wherever they were going before the portal interrupted them. As the people left, the guards (They had to be guards of some sort) brandished the pointed ends of their weapons toward Xentor. He tried again, barely keeping his temper in check and his voice calm and steady.

"I wish to speak to your ruler. Take me there." The guards exchanged glances, one of them seeming to give the final approval. He was clearly in charge of this small group, and he gestured for Xentor to follow him. The others took up escort positions, though their intent was clearly to keep the stranger from hurting the public, and not the other way around.

They moved through the city, slowly but steadily. Every path and every building looked exactly the same, all formed of square metal tiles of varying sizes. Each building seemed to be perfectly square, surrounded by paths on all sides, and with one entrance exactly in the center of each side. The walls were perfectly sheer, like a slab of marble, marred only by doors stacked vertically, so the people traveling on the flying machines could enter directly, without returning to ground level.

The people themselves were rather ordinary. Xentor counted at least thirty distinct races, each of which seemed to have a particular uniform for each gender, so every human male was dressed in an identical, gray, skin-tight jumpsuit, extending halfway to the elbows and halfway to the knees. The other races' uniforms were likewise uninteresting, varying only in shape, to fit different body structures, and color.

By the time his escort directed him into a building, his anger had almost faded from watching so much monotony. He had only deduced two important facts in this time.

First, none of the races he witnessed could be the Telthans. They were behaving too systematically, as if they were all machines. None of them spoke, and none deviated from a perfectly straight path until required to make a turn. No self-respecting sentient race would live in this manner.

Second, these people were clearly not here voluntarily. Their emotionless behavior was clearly the result of some sort of mind control. They were all nothing but servants on this world. What a pitiful existence.

"Step onto the teleporter." The head guard was pointing towards a square platform surrounded by metallic columns. Like the rest of the city, it was depressingly bland and colorless, even the controls cleverly camouflaged and invisible from a distance. He considered using his magic to teleport instead, but decided it would be too much trouble to learn the destination from these useless slaves. He stepped onto the platform and turned to face his escort. They stood there silently, in their bland, gray body armor, with their bland, gray spears. The spears were probably energy weapons of some sort, but their purpose and power was well hidden. Then, a bright white flash changed everything.

Xentor stood in the center of a large, dimly lit room. A grated window in the ceiling created a circular spotlight around him, and torches cast eerie shadows on the rest of the chamber. Well, they were not real torches, but technological simulations of some sort. He had little respect for technology, finding it ugly and inefficient.

Spaced evenly along the walls were humanoid guards, much like the ones that escorted him to the teleporter. Directly ahead, a figure sat on an oddly shaped stool, in front of a large array of view screens. The creature itself was in partial darkness, but the silhouette resembled that of an octopus, a primitive Earth animal. Just then, a booming voice filled the chamber.

"Identify yourself, human." Xentor disregarded the creature's mistake, refusing to speak to any underlings.

"I have come to speak with the ruler of the Telthans. Take me to him."

"I am Emperor Taksal of the Telthan Empire. Now, identify yourself, human."

This was rather unusual. Never before had Xentor found it so easy to reach the highest ruler of a civilization. This place was so organized that even the slightest oddity must have warranted the attention of the emperor himself.

"So you are the emperor. You are responsible."

"Insolent human! Identify yourself!"

Xentor took a step towards the creature, his hand hovering over his weapon. He could feel the hatred spreading through him, but he kept his voice slow and even. "You ordered the destruction of our ally's world."

Now, the alien was becoming curious. The voice itself was clearly coming from some sort of translation device, but the slight pauses in speech were unmistakable. "I destroy many worlds. Perhaps yours will be next."

"You killed my love."

At that, the alien spun around to face Xentor, and the lights brightened around it, showing its unusual figure. Five tentacles served as arms and three larger ones as legs. The entire creature was green-skinned, and had no recognizable face, apart from a pair of lighter spheres that could only be eyes.

This was the enemy. It killed Lenalta, and it would die. Even as those words passed through Xentor's mind, he was already running towards Taksal, extending his Blade Staff. "You will die for your mistake!"

It was almost too late when he noticed the guards advancing on him. He dropped to the ground and rolled forward as one of the spears slashed horizontally at his neck. As he came up, he made a quick slash of his own, cutting two feet off the end of the offending weapon. The severed end fell to the floor in a shower of sparks, and the other guards advanced together. Spears swung and stabbed from all sides, and all of those sessions with Xenlic paid off handsomely as he sliced left and right, blocking one spear, destroying another, severing an arm on one side and a head on the other. The guards fell one by one, but he was badly outnumbered. He knew he could not win this battle with only one weapon, so he slipped partway into his second vision, reaching for some magic to assist him.

He then realized his mistake. The colored mists were there, but were so small and diffuse that he could not draw them together fast enough to be of any use. While his lack of magic distracted him, a spear slipped past his defenses and touched the back of his neck. He felt a sharp burst of pain, and then everything went black.

##

## * * *

If war doth come, magic shalt fall.

If machine discovers magic, war shalt come. save one.

The words of the prophecy repeated in his mind as he fought for consciousness. Could it be true? Had the destruction of Xen already been foretold? If the prophecy was true, the only way to save Xen would be to prevent the Telthans from ever discovering it. It was already too late.

Xentor opened his eyes, squinting at the bright lights shining down on him from the dull, gray ceiling. The metal floor was cold to the touch, and he could barely make out a Telthan and several guards standing on the other side of the bars. He was in some kind of prison cell. He had to escape.

"Emperor, the prisoner awakens." It sounded like one of the guards. The Telthan with them had to be Taksal himself... or... herself... itself.

"You will die for this, Telthan. I will see to it." Even as he voiced his threat, he slipped into his second vision and reached out to bring together what little magic he could find. As he gathered his power, he noticed two things: The absence of his weapon and a twinge of pain in the back of his neck. The first could easily be remedied, since he could see the Blade Staff in the hands of one of the guards. As he drew the magic towards himself, he also brought a smaller amount to the staff, in preparation. As the clouds moved, the robotic voice filled his ears as Taksal spoke.

"You carry a curious weapon, human. It appears to have no molecular structure at all."

"Return it to me, and perhaps I shall give you a demonstration." The clouds continued to gather to his will. He brought a hand to the back of his neck and felt a small scar.

"It will again be yours, as soon as you are mine. Activate his implant."

"Yes, Emperor." One of the guards activated a control panel on the wall, and Xentor felt a small shock beneath the scar, and jumped at the sudden pain.

"You belong to me now, human. Stand up."

Suddenly everything was clear. The people on this planet really were being controlled, and these implants were the cause. Perhaps the best course of action would be to obey, at least until he could gather enough magic to escape. Xentor stood.

"Good. With your combat skills, you will join my royal guard. Return his weapon." The control panel on the wall began to make a strange sound, and the guard spoke up.

"Emperor, something is wrong with the implant. The prisoner... is not human." This was too soon! He needed a few more moments to ready his magic! He had to delay them a bit longer.

"Nay, I am not human. I am Sorcerer Prince Xentor of the Dimension of Xen, heir to the throne of the Dimension of Xen. You destroyed a world under our protection, you imprisoned me, and you killed my love. For this, Telthan, you will die, slowly and painfully. This I promise you."

"Guards! Kill him!"

That was exactly the response Xentor expected. As the guards raised their spears, his Blade Staff literally tore itself away from the one holding it, slipping through the bars and into Xentor's grasp even before the severed hand touched the floor. A point of light had already appeared behind him, and a portal was quickly opening. As he turned and dove through, a bolt of energy flew from the tip of one of the spears, passing between the bars and striking his side. The portal closed behind, leaving him crumpled on the stone path in the middle of Trans-D space.

##

## * * *

The bard's voice and the rhythmic strumming of her harp filled the crowded tavern as barmaids circled the room to bring ale to the thirsty patrons. Men emptied their pockets for the finest wine, women, and song to be found for hundreds of miles, making the perfect hunting ground for an ambitious member of the local Thieves' Guild. The girl passed quickly and quietly between the tables, and not a single patron noticed their gold and jewels being spirited away.

As the singer began her last verse of the evening, the girl snatched her last coin purse and headed out into the rain. She glanced over her shoulder many times, trying to get a glimpse of the man who had been watching her for the past hour from his table in the darkest corner of the building. A long, hooded cloak, black as night, concealed his body and shadowed his face, but somehow she knew he was watching her. He, too, was a creature of the night, though she had never seen him in the Guild. As she expected and feared, his table was vacant as she walked out the front door and into the night.

As she stepped onto the nearly empty street, she let the shadows conceal her, moving quickly and silently along the walls of the building, pulling her own dark cloak over her head to blend perfectly into the darkness. If he were following her, he would expect her to continue along this street towards the nearest Guild hideout, so she instead ducked into the narrow alleyway between the tavern and the baker's shop. If she made her way through to the next street, she could detour around the smithy and take refuge in the Guild headquarters across town.

"The young are so predictable." The voice stopped her dead in her tracks. A flash of lightning revealed the shadowed figure directly in her path.

"Why are you following me?" As if in response, the man slowly pulled back his hood to reveal his face. She relaxed a bit as she recognized him. Though she was not sure of his name, she knew he was one of her kind. They had offered him membership in the Guild, but he had declined on multiple occasions. It was a pity, because the assassin's skill was almost legendary.

"I see you recognize me, little one."

"I know of you, but that doesn't answer my question." She was still a bit worried, but kept her voice calm to hide her fear.

"Perhaps I simply wished to observe. You are quite skilled for your age."

"Thank you. Now, if you don't mind, I was on my way home..."

"Do not lie to me, girl. I respect your trade, and your skill, but I have no respect for dishonesty."

"You kill people for money. Isn't that dishonest?"

"It may be unlawful, but it is not dishonest." Though there was little malice in his speech, every word made her more and more nervous. Her voice started to quiver a bit, but she still did her best to sound unafraid.

"Alright... But why are you following me?"

"You made a mistake."

She gasped almost audibly, and silently began to pray that she might live through this. "I... I did?"

"Last night you stole a large purple gemstone from an old man. He has hired me to retrieve it." At this, the man slowly extended his hand, palm up. She hesitated only a moment, and then reached under her cloak and pulled the gemstone from her pocket. She reached forward carefully, and placed it in the man's waiting hand. Perhaps she would walk away from this after all.

"Thank you." He looked at the stone for a few seconds, and then smiled. His hand retreated into his cloak, and he stood there silently, watching her. She took three deep breaths, then turned around and walked towards the street, mouthing a silent prayer.

"There is a problem." His voice once again stopped her in her tracks. She turned slowly to face him, and nervously replied.

"W- What problem?"

"He also paid me to kill whoever stole it." Her heart skipped a beat, and she just stood there, frozen. Perhaps he would let her live... He could say he found the stone on the ground... He could say she escaped him... These thoughts kept running through her head, even as the glint of the dagger caught her eye. _"Maybe I'm just dreaming,"_ she thought as the dagger plunged into her back.

He walked quietly over to the girl's body and pulled the dagger from her back, using her own cloak to wipe off the blood. She was breathing, but her breaths were shortening and slowing. He looked into her eyes and sighed, shaking his head in a chastening gesture.

"One mistake."

Leaving her corpse there with the multitude of stolen goods, he pulled up his hood and turned to leave. Just then, a point of red light appeared in the air before him, bursting open into an oval shape. He curled one hand around a dagger, as a young man emerged, falling to the ground in a heap. A long, metallic staff clattered to the ground beside him.

##

## * * *

What happened? Where am I?

The memories leaked back into his mind slowly. He could vaguely remember levitating himself through Trans-D space and seeing the second portal open. After that, everything went dark. Everything was still dark... He could still feel that twinge of pain in the back of his neck, but there was something else... He could remember another, much worse pain... Something hit him as he dove out of the prison cell... It came from one of the guards' spears... There was a burning sensation and a terrible, terrible pain... Where was it now?

"I've done all I can, but no human could survive a wound like that." He could hear a soft, female voice, somewhere nearby.

"It looks like someone just carved out a skull-sized chunk of flesh with a red-hot iron." A man responded in a deep, almost frightening voice.

"Not iron. I've never seen burns like that before. Even magic fireballs can't do that much damage." The woman seemed concerned. Were they talking about Xentor?

He slowly opened his eyes, squinting as they adjusted to the light. He was lying on a hard surface in what looked like a bedroom. The man and woman stood on the other side of the room, bathed in sunlight from the nearby window. He summoned up his strength and tried to speak, his words only a whisper.

"Where... am I?" Both of them turned, and the woman rushed to his side, looking down at him. She was so beautiful... She looked almost like...

"L- Lenalta?"

"I am Anya, milord. You're in the inn above the Crescent Moon Tavern. Milord Rotai found you in the alleyway, badly injured..." He took a deep breath, and it brought on a great pain. He needed a healer quickly...

"Where... is Mallus?"

"I don't know anyone by that name, milord. If I may ask, what is yours?"

He closed his eyes and dropped into his second vision, trying to contact his sister, Princess Xentalia. If anyone could heal him, she could. He looked around for the clouds of magic, but everything was a blur. He could not concentrate, and therefore he could not use his magic. The most he could do was speak, so he answered Anya's question.

"I am... Xentor..."

"Milord, it's difficult to hear you. Did you say Zender?" At that moment, the man decided to contribute. He approached slowly, speaking in a commanding voice.

"He said Xentor. I've heard that name before, in relation to a city southeast of here, on the other side of the mountains. I believe it's called Ka'Loen."

"Of course! I've heard that tale before. The Dragon Slayer of Ka'Loen! But... That was almost a hundred years ago, and this man can't be more than twenty."

"That means nothing. I've seen elves a hundred years old that look younger than this."

"But Rotai, he is clearly not an elf."

"Nor human. You said yourself that no human could survive such a wound. I shall purchase some more herbs. Do your best to keep him alive until I return. We may yet save him."

The man, Rotai, turned to leave. Xentor heard the sound of a door opening and closing, and then he lost consciousness.

#

# 

# Part III - Invader

"Sorcerer Prince Xentor, having passed all necessary tests and challenges, has hereby earned the rank of ArchMage. This path has ended, but the next shall lead him forward. Honor him!" Relvar moved back a step at the end of his ceremonial speech, and the assembled Guardians raised their fists towards the sky silently and in unison. A moment later, the sky above them exploded in a menagerie of colors, sending rippling shockwaves so powerful they would reach all four corners of Xen before dissipating. It was truly a magnificent sight to behold.

When the magic finally faded, and the shockwaves were nearly out of sight, the Guardians teleported away, leaving only Xentor and Relvar standing in the courtyard of Castle Xen.

"You are indeed learning quickly, my apprentice. It is only a matter of time before you achieve your potential rank."

"Why stop there, mentor?" The two of them began the short walk back to Relvar's cabin, Xentor a step behind, as was appropriate.

"In a thousand years, there has never been an incorrect ranking, young prince. It is good to be ambitious, but take care that your ambition does not take hold of you."

"Aye. I understand, mentor." They entered the cabin, and Relvar made a slight gesture. The door to the back room opened, and something floated through the doorway towards them. It looked like a folded piece of dark red fabric.

"Now, there is the simple matter of your attire. It is not befitting an ArchMage of Xen." At that remark, Xentor raised an eyebrow, slightly confused.

"Mentor?"

Relvar took hold of the fabric and turned around, a smile on his aged face. With a quick flip of the wrists, he unfolded the long red cloak. "For you, my apprentice."

Xentor nearly smiled. He nodded his head slightly, and it slipped from Relvar's hands and draped itself over the young prince's shoulders. "Thank you, mentor."

"It is not merely a cloak, of course. There is a portal spell linked to the inside surface, forming a pocket into Trans-D space. The capacity is virtually unlimited, and you will find it very useful during your next lesson."

"Transformation?"

"Aye, ArchMage. Transformation."

##

## * * *

The loud murmurs of a dozen heated conversations easily drowned out Anya's singing that night. Thanks to the heavy snow outside, nearly all the chairs and tables were filled with hungry patrons, seeking wine, women, and song. In the entire room, there were only three vacant seats, all at one table in the darkest corner of the Crescent Moon Tavern. A cloaked man sat in shadow in the fourth chair, observing the room silently, slowly sipping from a tankard of ale. Rotai didn't mind company, but his reputation and occupation were so well known that even the bravest warriors in Serpentooth would hesitate before sharing a table with him. It was just as well, for he was expecting a visitor, and that visitor would need a place to sit.

"'ey assassin! Didja kill anyone today?" Bravery was rare in this city, but enough ale was a good enough substitute. A tall, muscular man had turned his chair partway around and decided to make conversation. The man had the arms of a smith, and the five men sitting with him were no less endowed.

"Not yet," came Rotai's response. It was not necessarily a threat, but if the drunken fools assumed it so, he would not object.

The six men burst into laughter for no apparent reason, and it was nearly half a minute before the first spoke again. "Ya wanna kill ma' buddy hea'? He said he don' like ye' cloak!" At that, all six laughed madly again, though the "buddy" in question seemed rather nervous.

"That depends on what you are offering." Rotai had no intention of wasting time on the man, but he enjoyed watching the fools cower in fear. It worked wonderfully, for the laughter quickly stopped, and the speaker hastily turned his chair away, now choosing to speak quietly to his friends. Rotai couldn't help but chuckle, turning his attention to the harpist on stage. She was singing a little-known epic about a young prince who fell in love with a vampire, but few of the patrons were even listening. He waved over a serving girl to refill his tankard, and sat back to wait.

It was nearly an hour before the tavern door swung open and a cloaked figure stepped into the room. Some snowflakes remained in his long brown hair, and the whites of his eyes seemed to carry a slight reddish tint. He hardly resembled the man Rotai and Anya had found and healed less than two years before. Unfortunately, he would not be so warmly greeted this time.

Within a few seconds, all conversations had stopped, and all eyes were on the new arrival. Even Anya halted her song, wary of the sudden tension in the room. For several long moments, the room was dead silent as the cloaked man's eyes surveyed the patrons, his expression unreadable. A muscular fellow at a nearby table stood, placing himself in front of the stranger and glaring menacingly.

"Your kind isn't welcome here, wizard."

The visitor paused, looking into the other's eyes, then responded calmly, with only a hint of aggression. "Stand aside."

"Take your fancy cape and get out of our tavern!" The burly man drew a curved dagger from a sheath on his belt, and held it before him, clearly in the mood for a fight.

The cloaked man did not even spare the knife a glance. He kept his perfectly calm voice and responded. "Stand aside. I will not ask again."

"You turn around and walk outta here, or I'll gut ya so fast you won't ask anyone nothin'." He waved the knife side to side a bit, trying to scare the wizard.

The only reaction was a slight flicker of redness in the stranger's eyes. A moment later, a bright flash of lightning lit the room, accompanied by a loud whooshing sound, as a blade of pure white light appeared and sliced downward through the air between them, leaving a momentary streak in the air and vanishing before anyone could get more than a glimpse of it. The room was completely silent and still, until the blade of the man's knife clattered to the floor, only the hilt and guard still in his grip. The knife-wielder stood there, slack-jawed, then slowly took a step back, nearly falling as he slumped into his chair.

Rotai raised a hand to get the stranger's attention, chuckling and rising to his feet as the cloaked man approached. The people gradually went back to their conversations, and Anya resumed the epic where she left off.

"I received your message in Ka'Loen. It has been a long time, Rotai."

"Nearly nineteen months, Lord Xentor. It's good to see you on your feet. Anya and I were not sure you would make it home, magic or not."

"She is a gifted healer. I would not have survived otherwise."

Almost in unison, the two of them sat down, opposite one another. The serving girl returned with a full tankard of ale for Rotai and hesitated, looking at Xentor but too nervous to speak. Almost as a response, the Sorcerer made a slight gesture, and a glass of dark-red liquid appeared on the table in front of him. The girl breathed a sigh of relief, and hurried off to her other duties.

Xentor picked up his glass and took a sip, looking back to Rotai. "Your message said that you had information that might interest me."

"Indeed. A stranger has been walking the streets of Serpentooth. A woman with green skin."

"Why would that interest me?"

Rotai paused a moment to choose his words, then continued. "She has been searching for powerful men. Soldiers and the like. She offers them unheard-of power in exchange for loyalty to her master."

"I do not see how this relates to me."

"Her master's name seemed familiar. During your week-long stay in Anya's room at the inn, you spoke of many things in your delirium. You mentioned someone called Taksal."

Xentor's bored expression vanished, his eyes widening. The Telthans had been at war with Xen ever since his first encounter with the alien emperor, but so far it had remained a stalemate, with neither side powerful enough to directly attack the other. He put down his glass slowly, not sure how to respond.

Rotai smiled, pleasantly surprised to see a wizard caught off guard. "Now you see why I contacted you. She has passed through this town several times, and will very likely return."

"Who will return?" Anya casually sat down in one of the vacant chairs, smiling warmly to each of them.

Xentor was so distracted by the mention of Taksal that he had not noticed that the music had stopped. He quickly regained his composure and responded in his usual, calm voice. "Someone I would very much like to confront, milady."

"Take care in that encounter. I would rather not have to heal you again, milord."

"I came to this town by accident then, but if it happens again, be assured I will seek you out." Xentor gave the slightest hint of a smile, the most one could expect from him in recent times. If Anya had changed at all in the past months, it had been to grow more beautiful. Even the young prince was not completely cold yet.

Rotai sat silently, keeping his tankard to his lips to hide his frown. For many months he had been spending every evening in this tavern, watching and listening to her, and she was ignoring him in favor of a man who she had seen once, over a year and a half ago. He silently cursed himself for arranging the meeting here, of all places. "Well, Lord Xentor, I am sure you have more pressing business. I will send word to Ka'Loen next time I see the green woman here."

Xentor's only response was a slight nod as he kept his gaze locked on the beautiful bard and took a sip from his glass.

Anya quickly changed the subject, clearly having no interest in another woman. "I was under the impression that only vampires drank blood, milord, and I know you are not one of the undead."

Xentor held up his glass, looking at the dark-red liquid. "Blood? Nay, this is called Fool's Brew. An old friend of mine first introduced it to me. It has been many years since I last saw him."

"What does it taste like?" She asked, clearly a little wary of the name.

"It is as sweet as sugar on the tongue, feels like a lightning bolt in your mouth, and has the effect of a dozen tankards of ale."

Anya smiled, almost seductively, to Rotai's displeasure. "I don't suppose you have enough for two, milord?"

Xentor paused a moment, considering something, then stood up, his expression fading to neutrality. "Another time perhaps. I must report this business with Taksal to my Sire. My thanks for the information, Rotai. It was good to see you both again."

Rotai relaxed a bit, not happy to see Xentor leave, but glad to have Anya to himself. He forced a friendly smile, and rose to his feet. "You are always welcome here, Lord Xentor, regardless of whether foolish drunks say otherwise."

Anya slowly rose to her feet, making the slightest suggestion of a curtsey. "Indeed, milord. I hope to see you again soon."

"Perhaps you shall. For now, though, farewell." At that, a bright flash of red light filled the room. When it faded, the glass of brew was gone, along with the Sorcerer.

##

## * * *

"Sire, I have news from Earth." After several quick teleports around the palace, Xentor had found his father on the upper walkway of the east wall, gazing out at the seemingly-endless desert.

Lord Xen looked to him in silence, his long gray hair blowing in the slight breeze, and the young prince continued. "An agent of the Telthans is operating on Earth, sire, perhaps attempting to form an army loyal to Taksal."

The older man nodded slightly, turning his gaze back to the desert. "There are other, more pertinent issues, my son."

Xentor raised an eyebrow at that comment, then followed his father's gaze. "What issues, sire?"

"What do you see?"

"I see nothing but sand."

"Look further," his father replied.

The prince hesitated a moment, then slipped into his second vision, the magical mists moving at his slightest mental command. He chose a point several feet in front of him, and concentrated his spell. A dim yellow cloud reshaped into a sort of tube, carrying the light rays from that point directly to his left eye, effectively letting him see as if he was standing at the chosen point. Another mental command, and that point shot forward. All of this happened in a mere moment, after which he was scanning the distant horizon, searching for what his father saw.

It took only a few seconds before he was looking closely at a humanoid face, hundreds of miles away. That face belonged to a rather normal-looking body, and that body was driving a four-wheeled vehicle across the desert. Dozens of other such vehicles accompanied it, along with several larger ones that could only be tanks. He looked some distance past them to find an enormous crater, several hundred feet in diameter, which seemed to have no bottom.

"I see them, sire. Who are they?"

"Visitors from the other side of Xen, my son."

This, of course, struck Xentor as odd. It was common knowledge that the planet Xen was the shape of a flat rectangle, unlike the spherical worlds found in most other dimensions. "But sire, there is no other side."

"Have you forgotten your schooling already?"

"Sire, no one has ever been able to reach the other side, even through teleportation."

"Indeed. The edges of the dimension," Lord Xen replied, "curve around to the sides of the planet, so the other side is unreachable. It does, however, exist."

"But then the only way to reach it is by digging straight through. That's fifty miles of solid Xianite! Our magic can't affect it, so how could anyone dig through it?"

Lord Xen turned to him, speaking slowly and calmly. "We cannot. These visitors are not magical. Look more closely at their vehicles."

Xentor hesitated, looking at his father's calm expression, then turned back to the east, his magically-enhanced vision zooming in on one of the large tanks. It was perhaps thirty feet in length, moving on a pair of metallic belts, and spitting a cloud of smoke out the rear. Several cylinders that projected from the front and sides were most likely projectile weapons of some sort. "War machines, made of Xianite."

"Indeed, my son."

Xentor paused a moment, staring at the vehicles, and the words of the prophecy leapt into his mind. He spoke them aloud, softly. "If war doth come, magic shalt fall. If machine discovers magic, war shalt come, save one."

"Aye, Prince Treloc informed me of the prophecy, and earlier today we managed to locate the one who made it. He suggested we seek the assistance of the magic itself."

"The Pedestal, sire?"

"Aye, son."

Without another word, Xentor vanished in a flash of red light, and his father turned back towards the desert to observe the visitors. It was several minutes before he was again interrupted as a cloaked woman appeared beside him. She waited in silence until Lord Xen turned his gaze to her, then spoke calmly.

"Milord, another Telthan relay probe has entered the dimension."

"Predictable," was his only reply as he turned towards the nearest tower entrance. It would be easy enough to teleport to his destination, but a short walk could be relaxing at times. Even so, it wasn't long before he was seated in the throne room, reaching out with his magic to contact the probe.

"Emperor Taksal," he said simply, as the illusion of the green-skinned alien appeared in front of him.

"Lord Xen," the alien replied, as the aged Guardian's image was likewise projected as an illusion inside the probe. It was a bit of a hassle to communicate between dimensions with non-magical races, but this system sufficed.

"It has been nearly a month since your last probe, Taksal. Is the Telthan Empire finally prepared to discuss your surrender?"

"Negative. I have monitored the situation on your world, and the Telthan Empire is prepared to offer assistance in resolving your impending conflict."

Despite the fact that the Telthans were Xen's most powerful enemy, the conversation was surprisingly civil. Lord Xen smiled a bit at the alien's offer, rather used to these sorts of diplomatic jokes. "Thank you, but we are fully capable of resolving our own issues."

"Your forces are at a disadvantage, Guardian. The war has already turned in our favor. You do not possess the resources to resist the Empire and repel your invaders simultaneously. Surrender to us, and we will remove your problem."

"Patience, Taksal," Lord Xen said with a slight smile. "There will be ample time for these discussions when my Guardians are tearing down your palace."

"I believe your strongest Guardian has already visited my palace, specifically the detention cells."

"And as I remember it, he dispatched over a dozen of your guards without even using his magic."

"And do you expect to deal with your invaders the same way? I am fully aware of the properties of your Xianite metal. It is fitting that your new enemies inadvertently made themselves immune to magic."

"Perhaps you would care to visit Xen in person, so I can give you a demonstration of the properties of a Xianite Blade Staff."

"A primitive weapon from an archaic race. Your magic cannot kill, so you resort to mere..." The Telthan suddenly turned away, distracted by something out of view. Lord Xen only smiled.

"Perhaps we should be like the Telthans, and build enormous war machines. We could turn entire moons into military outposts, outfit them with powerful weapons, and then weep when one of our primitive adversaries turns them against us." As the alien spoke in another tongue to one of his servants, Lord Xen merely waved a hand, terminating both the connection and the device that facilitated it.

##

## * * *

"Target the nearest cruiser and fire!" Treloc's command resonated throughout the weapons chamber, as two Guardians raced to obey. The entire base shuddered as a plasma charge leapt from their captured cannon and sped towards one of the many approaching starships.

"They've launched interceptors, ArchMage! Our shot had no effect." Frustration and defeat was beginning to show on most of their faces, and rightly so. This mission was meant to be a turning point in the war, but the Telthans reacted too quickly. This cannon outpost, located nearly within range of Telthan Prime, was far too simple for Treloc's team to capture, but they only managed to fire a few shots before half of the planetary defense fleet was at their doorstep.

"Incoming fire from the destroyers! We must retreat to Xen!"

"Not until we're finished here." Treloc thrust out a hand, his gaze falling upon one of the many asteroids forming this moon's ring. His eyes blazed red as the Xen Magic bent to his will, launching the rock sideways into the path of an incoming plasma bolt. "Fire again!" The explosion rocked the base, but he stayed firm as he turned to another young Guardian, working feverishly at one of the consoles. "Pelon, are you ready yet?"

"Almost, ArchMage. I've set the power batteries to overload, but there's still one more safety override to disable. Can't you just do it with magic?"

"No magic, Apprentice. There are still Telthans alive on the lower levels." He frowned, turning back to the cannon. "I said to fire!" His eyes opened wide as a ball of energy battered the outpost. With a quick gesture, a weak Force Shield appeared around the weapons chamber, but it wouldn't hold for long. Droplets of sweat trickled down his face as he held the translucent dome against two more shots, and he only barely managed to give the retreat order.

Prince Treloc stepped tiredly into the throne room, several minutes later. His saddened expression should have been all that was necessary to convey his report to Lord Xen.

"Two ships destroyed, and another disabled. We didn't have time to detonate the outpost, but it was heavily damaged by the time we left. Pelon and Datiri were killed. The Telthans reacted too quickly, Milord."

Lord Xen sighed visibly, leaning heavily on one arm of his throne. "Then we've dented their armor, but these losses are turning it into a war of attrition. That is a war we cannot win."

"I failed them, Milord. I was not strong enough to defend them. Perhaps with Prince Xentor's help, I could—"

"My son has other matters to attend to. We are fighting on two fronts, and he has gone to the desert to deal with the nearer threat. Thanks to you, my daughter is in no condition for the journey." The aged ruler managed a thin smile, despite the situation. Treloc returned it, his thoughts turning from violence to love.

"They say she will have the child any day now. The ArchSorcerer keeps trying to examine her, but she'll have none of it. She wants to be surprised."

"Be it a son or a daughter, it will be loved. I have long wanted grandchildren, and despite my son's abilities, someone must be ready to succeed him when the inevitable occurs. Since Lenalta's death, he has become far too reckless."

"On that subject, Milord, one of my scouts recently delivered a report that you may find quite interesting."

##

## * * *

It had been a long time since Xentor had traveled like this. Once he had mastered teleportation, the mere act of walking always seemed too much of a chore, and was better avoided. Had he not been so preoccupied with survival, he may have appreciated the subtle irony.

Here in the center of the Great Desert, magical ability was irrelevant. The mere act of slipping into his second sight, to see the magic, would in all likelihood destroy his mind from within. The sheer amount of it would burn every part of his brain as quickly and efficiently as if he had plunged head-first into the corona of a star.

After a sip from his canteen, he continued forward, his tired legs propelling him onward towards his destination. Two days had passed since he left the palace, and two more would pass before his return. Fortunately, his goal was nearly in sight.

As his head crested the final sand dune, the Pedestal appeared to him, sitting alone, almost as if abandoned. To the uninitiated, it looked like no more than a carved piece of stone, roughly rectangular and featureless. To the proud few who manipulated the Xen Magic, this was life itself. From this point, those clouds of magic poured into the frame from some place beyond, spreading quickly through universes and dimensions and soaking them in power. The legends said that long ago, the first settlers to arrive on this world came to this very spot, and became the first Xen Guardians. To this day, all new apprentices were initiated here, in the presence of the magic itself.

"I come seeking answers and guidance," he spoke as he dropped to his knees before the stone. "I am Sorcerer Prince Xentor, son of Lord Xen. I seek knowledge concerning the prophecy."

If war doth come, magic shalt fall.

If machine discovers magic, war shalt come, save one.

The voice came from nowhere. It came from the air itself. It came from the ground beneath him. Most of all, it came from the Pedestal. He remained silent for a time, and was rewarded with the same. Minutes passed, and his patience wore thin.

"How can we prevent war? The prophecy speaks of one thing that can do so. What is it?" The voice did not return, but an answer was still given. Almost silently, a part of the pedestal slid open like a drawer, revealing a small object inside. Without thought or question, Xentor retrieved it before the drawer mysteriously slid shut.

It was a rock. It was a small, black rock on a chain, like a primitive pendant or necklace. After examining it for several minutes and finding nothing, he slipped it over his head, almost expecting the war to magically be over, but realizing that whatever its purpose, it would not be revealed to him.

His hope turned to ashes, he pocketed the necklace and began the long walk home.

## * * *

"The readings came out just as you predicted. I'm seeing almost fifty percent saturation in this area, and there's a slight but noticeable increase towards the northeast."

Caltoren nodded to his assistant, reading over the sensor results even as the boy recited what he had learned. Belryn was young, yes, but still one of the best students he had ever had the honor to teach. It was somewhat disappointing, though, that the youth hadn't noticed the pattern in his own report. "Take a closer look at the sequence here, Belryn. This is rising exponentially in that direction."

"Yes, Sir. If the pattern holds, the radiation levels should reach one hundred percent at eighty-two by ten, in the center of the desert I indicated on the second page."

Perhaps the boy was better than even Caltoren himself had suspected. With a pleased smile, he folded the map and started walking towards the other end of camp, where the soldiers had set their mobile command post. Belryn kept pace beside him, as expected. "Now that we know that this radiation has a point source, we are left with several options. Which would you suggest, lad?"

"Maintain our current heading, Sir."

"Good. Why?"

"Well, if we direct them towards it, we risk ourselves and the entire platoon if it becomes dangerous at high concentrations. Even if it isn't, whatever object is emitting this radiation is clearly advanced technology, and needs to be carefully studied. We're not equipped for such a task, and the soldiers would likely interfere."

"Very good, so far. Did you not consider the possibility of returning home for the equipment and personnel we need?"

"Yes, Sir, but this is still unknown territory, and we two are more easily protected than an entire research team."

"Excellent. I have a feeling you will make an excellent researcher one day. Ah, Mr. Brasin, may I have a word?" The platoon commander, Strike Force Leader Brasin, was a reasonable enough man, despite his military roots. The few inhabitants of Xen that chose to be fighters would generally look down on the rest, despite their limited use. Brasin held his rank partly because he was one of the few who understood that the need for scientific advancement outweighed the need for violence. In short, the man knew his place.

"Of course, Researcher. I'll just set aside my responsibilities as Strike Force Leader for a few minutes, so you and your little minion can lecture me about a little dust in the air. I'm trying to lead a military operation here, and I don't appreciate being interrupted ten times a day by a couple of civilians. Have I made myself perfectly clear, Caltoren?"

"Quite clear, Mr. Brasin. If you do not wish my advice, I will certainly not give it. If, however, you come to the sudden realization that the survival probability of you and your platoon would be greatly increased by utilizing every available source of intelligence, I will be waiting in my tent. Good day."

Brasin simply frowned as the overweight scientist turned and left. He had asked for the best general researcher the institute had to offer, and he'd gotten exactly what he needed. Unfortunately, this particular researcher didn't seem to comprehend the chain of command. "Guardsman! Deploy the perimeter scouts, and get them suited up with full-bright gear. I want patrols running every ten ticks until morning."

"Yes, Sir. Should I send today's report back to the tunnel?"

"Let the eggheads add their bit to it, then send it. Dismissed." As the younger soldier hurried to pass on his orders, Brasin retired to his tent to look over his maps. The nearest major settlement was still some distance away, and at the current rate, the platoon would make contact in twenty-one days. Then they would show the aliens of this side of the world exactly who was in charge of Xen.

##

## * * *

The beast stepped loudly down the path, head swiveling from side to side as it searched for its prey. Its eyes flashed every color of the rainbow, as it used every sense it had to locate the target and destroy it. She watched from a concealed position along the southern ridge as the beast passed by, praying silently to herself that it wouldn't turn in her direction.

Maybe she had moved slightly in the underbrush, or maybe it could hear her fast-beating heart, but its eyes suddenly focused directly on her, and an energy beam sprang from its left emitter, burning through the bush next to her. A sickly, brown hue spread from the newly-created hole, slowly killing the plant from the inside as she leaped to her feet and ran for her life.

The eyes settled on a reddish blue hue as both the infrared and visual sensors combined to pinpoint the target, now hidden behind a rocky outcropping. The beast crouched down, using the actuators on all five legs like a spring to hurl itself in the direction of the prey. Its particle emitters blazed to life as it descended, slicing thin gashes in the stone obstruction, but the target was still out of reach. As it reached the ground, it prepared for another leap, but something was wrong. The fourth support leg had been damaged in the landing, and was flailing wildly, slashing at the dirt and coming dangerously close to damaging the other supports. The beast limped along slowly, attempting to complete the objective despite the damage, but the rogue leg curled around backwards and plunged its pointed end into the machine's power core.

The resulting explosion shattered the body, obliterating the nearby plant life and blasting out a spherical section of the rock protecting the target. A final analysis showed the target emerging from concealment and fleeing. The mission was not accomplished. The beast had failed again. It would be rebuilt. It would try again.

## * * *

"I'm sorry, Prince, but that was the last of us. I wish we could assist you more."

Xentor sighed to himself, the necklace dangling from his right hand as he gazed over the village. This was the eleventh village he had searched, and there were so many more in this region alone. At least ten more decorated the northwestern ridge, eight were spaced out in the southern plains, and as many as fifty others covered the rest of Xen.

"The Guardians thank you for your assistance. I apologize for my brevity, but time grows short. I must continue my search elsewhere." Barely waiting for the nod from the village elder, he vanished, leaving a dark red mist which quickly faded to nothing.

"I see your point, old friend. His heart is right, but he pushes himself too hard. What do you suggest?"

Relvar shrugged a bit, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder as they watched the young prince teleport away, then turned their gaze to the next village as he reappeared there. "He's your son. Take him aside, and talk to him. He must be made to realize that he cannot allow one small crisis to dominate him so."

"Small crisis? The Telthan war is a small crisis, Relvar. This is something entirely different. Perhaps you should summon him. After all you've taught him, I feel he may be more receptive to your advice than mine."

"Now you see the problem."

Lord Xen glanced over to the old Arch-Sorcerer, but he merely smiled and walked away, vanishing from the parapets, presumably teleporting down to his shack at the outer edge of the palace courtyard. Another glance towards the village showed Xentor already lining up the villagers, pressing the stone of the necklace to each of their bosoms and waiting for some kind of reaction. The boy shouldn't have been in that village in the first place. It was far too close to the enemy advance, and far too likely to be spotted by one of their advance scouts. He didn't doubt his son's ability to defend himself or escape to safety, but it was too soon to reveal the abilities of the Guardians to these invaders. As long as they were ignorant of the Xen Magic, Lord Xen and his Guardians had an advantage.

* * *

"What do you think that rock is, Sir?"

"Keep your voice down, Belryn. We don't want to be seen by the locals." Caltoren kept his eyes locked on the village as the two of them lay prone in the bushes, their skimmer clumsily hidden a short distance away.

"Sorry, Sir," Belryn whispered more quietly, "But what do you think—"

"I don't know yet, but did you see how he arrived in the town? I've never seen a device that could teleport like that, particularly without an established destination portal. Did you bring a radiation sensor?"

"Yes, Sir. I've kept one on me ever since we found the—"

"Turn it on, quickly. Target him and keep it recording. I want a full reading in case he does that again."

Belryn fished through the devices clipped to his belt, making a bit more noise than Caltoren would have liked. A few moments later, he retrieved a handheld radiation scanner, and slaved it to his binoculars, using them to accurately target the cloaked stranger.

"Sir, I'm already seeing some higher radiation levels around him. I... I can't be sure, but it seems like the radiation is moving. It's flowing toward him... Into him, perhaps."

"Fascinating. Keep recording. I want to see what happens when he— There! He vanished! What did you see? Belryn? What did the sensor pick up?" He looked over to his apprentice, who was merely staring at the readout, his jaw hanging open."

"Umm... Maybe you should take a look at this..."

## * * *

The music flew sweetly over the heads of the comfortably-inebriated patrons of the Crescent Moon Tavern as Anya finished her last song of the night. Rotai waited patiently for the last note to die out before lifting his hands from the shadows to clap softly.

"I think," Anya began as she stepped down to his table, "That I would very much like a drink. Perhaps two."

The assassin couldn't help but smile softly as he lifted a hand towards the nearest serving girl and silently indicated that he desired two more tankards of ale. Perhaps the patrons feared him, but the staff had grown accustomed to his presence, and knew him to be peaceful and lawful, when not on contract.

"You sang well, tonight. I only wish you would do so for a more appreciative audience, so that you might realize that."

"You flatter me, Milord. There are far better bards in this town than me." Despite her words, she clearly appreciated the compliment. Her eyes spoke it quite clearly, and her smile removed all doubt.

"There is always someone better. Don't let that stop you from noticing your talent."

"And who is better than you, great assassin? Your name is known in this town and others, yet mine is hardly known to my own audience." Anya smiled to the serving girl as she returned, and sipped her drink before looking back to Rotai.

"They know my name because they fear it. Inspiring fear through death is not difficult. Inspiring both joy and sadness through nothing but song requires a true gift." He took the new tankard and drank slowly, wanting to savor the few moments he had with the beautiful bard. His smile only dropped when he spotted a hint of green moving through the shadows outside the tavern. In moments, his body went from relaxed to alert, and his highly-trained senses surveyed the interior of the room.

"She's back again, isn't she?" Anya knew him too well. "The green-skinned woman?"

Rotai nodded slightly, his eyes locked on a bit of movement outside, as the woman in question walked by the tavern, glancing in through the windows.

"Then the wizard hasn't spoken to her yet?"

He shook his head, remaining silent as he caught a glimpse of metal on the woman's neck, almost completely covered with some sort of leather.

"Perhaps you should see what you can learn from her, Milord." She was so eager to help the sorcerer, despite having only met him twice. Regardless, she was right. The woman was a mystery, and Rotai's expertise relied on knowing as much about his hunting grounds as possible. As long as he knew more than his prey, he could use his skills to their utmost, and maintain his perfect reputation.

With only a nod to Anya, he rose from his seat, sliding some coins out of his purse to cover the drinks he'd consumed. Fortunately, he had refrained from dulling his senses too much, and was confident that he was still unmatched in this region. The patrons glanced up at him, talking amongst themselves as he quietly walked out of the tavern. Clearly they were glad to see him leave, always afraid that a price had been put on their heads. The fools actually thought he would carry out his art in full view, in the one place besides his den that he considered a refuge.

No matter. The green-skinned woman was in sight, walking quietly down the street towards the next tavern. There was something odd about the way she stepped. He made a habit of studying the way people walk, as it could often reveal their capabilities or armaments. This one was stepping toes-first, yet her balance seemed to contradict that. As she turned into an alley, he decided it was time to confront the mystery.

"Why do you follow me, assassin?"

The woman was standing still, facing him, as he stepped silently around the corner. Her stance suggested readiness, but not necessarily hostility. This was a dangerous woman, and he had to choose his words carefully.

"You are a mystery to me. My trade doesn't allow for mysteries." He stood still, not reaching for any weapons, but instead remaining non-aggressive, and trusting that he would be faster than she, should the need arise.

"That is unfortunate. Perhaps you have chosen your trade poorly."

"It's what I excel at. Clearly you know of me, yet I know nothing of you. Who are you?"

"You know much of me, assassin. I have seen you before, and you have seen me. I am Cyari, honored servant of the great Emperor Taksal. He, through me, seeks great warriors to serve him in this region. No, speak not, for I know enough of you to see that you will serve no other."

She made a slight movement, but what was it? Her arms and legs were in plain view, but something moved. Rotai shifted his position ever so slightly, risking aggression but putting himself in a stronger stance. Any bystander would think the movement insignificant, but this woman was no amateur.

"I serve only myself. Still, you interest me, and I would hear more of this. My services are always available, for the right price."

"Your coins are insignificant, human. You already serve the other side." The attack came so swiftly, he nearly wasn't prepared. A dagger almost seemed to materialize in her hand, instantly launched towards him.

With a practiced movement, he turned slightly to let the blade fly past, and drew twin throwing knives from under his cloak, hurling each towards the strange woman even as he gained forward momentum. Not expecting them to strike anything but air, he immediately drew a set of curved blades from his belt, his eyes locked on the forearm-length straight blades that appeared in the hands of his enemy.

The melee was lightning fast as their paths crossed, steel meeting steel with expert precision, and neither moving close enough for a killing blow. The two combatants circled one another, each seeking an opening for a quick kill, but neither expecting one. Just then, something drew his attention over her shoulder. A green appendage of some sort moved into view, distracting him just long enough for the woman to strike.

Her blades came at him in his moment of weakness, but even a mistake like that was possible to remedy. He swiveled his body away from one of her daggers, and slashed at the other with one while striking at her face with the other. Her head bent to an impossible angle to avoid the blade, and her tail steadied her as she dropped into a roll and came up behind him.

Her tail? She called him a human, as if she herself was something else. This was no race he had ever seen, but something entirely new. Something alien. He faced her again, and the game continued.

## * * *

"But Sire, this must be done."

"Enough, Xentor. Do you really think you can test this stone on every inhabitant of Xen?" Lord Xen had tried to be a friend to his son, but he would submit only to proper authority. Again, he had failed as a father.

"What choice is there? The pedestal clearly indicated that this rock is our only chance to save Xen!"

"And how do you know that these new invaders represent the 'machine' in question?"

"Sire, can there be any doubt? If Xen is to be saved, I must continue." The prince turned to leave, determined to continue this pointless quest. Lord Xen sighed quietly, his efforts hopeless. Ever since the death of his mother, Xentor had never seen him as a father, but merely as a monarch. So be it.

"Enough!" The aged ruler slammed his fist down on the arm of his throne, sending a crackling sound throughout the chamber. "This ends now." He waited for his son to turn towards him, only now subservient, and continued in a softer tone. "Leave Xen for a few days. Calm your mind, and let your body recover. There is still time before we must confront the invaders, and you will be of no use if you are not rested. Go now."

After only a moment of hesitation, Xentor nodded. "Yes, Sire." He slowly pocketed the black rock, and turned his eyes to the right. With a calm gesture, he opened a portal and stepped through.

"I tried, old friend, but I fear it's too late."

Relvar nodded slightly, appearing out of thin air, releasing the invisibility field he had conjured. "Perhaps so. The boy has chosen a lonely path, but it is his choice to make. You know, of course, where he will go."

* * *

"He sends me away when the fate of Xen is in doubt! How could he suggest that I put my own welfare above that of my world!?"

"Calm down, Xentor. Your father is merely doing what he feels is right for you. Did you expect otherwise?"

The prince sighed, still angered at his father, but already feeling guilty for speaking against him to an outsider. Mallus had been a friend for many years, but he was still one of the humans.

"No, I knew he would stop me eventually, but someone must continue what I began."

Mallus smiled a bit at the boy's impulsiveness. He lifted his aged body from his chair, and walked towards the back room of his magic shop. "Get some rest, while you still can."

Xentor watched the old magician leave, and resigned himself to his fate. How could he rest when danger threatens his kingdom? Perhaps a drink or two would calm him, or at least dull his resolve and make it easier to obey his sire.

A moment later, a dark-red mist appeared in an alleyway behind the Crescent Moon Tavern, and Xentor stepped out of the shadows. A moment after that, he was stepping through the front door, and only seconds after that, Anya had spotted him.

"Milord, you must find Rotai. The green-skinned woman came again, and I foolishly suggested he confront her. He has not returned, and I fear he may be hurt!"

He nodded, getting an odd feeling of warmth as she stood so close to him. Internally, he chided himself for letting his feelings dominate him at such a time. With a mental command, he teleported out of the tavern and looked down from a nearby rooftop, seeking his friend, the assassin.

* * *

Rotai opened his eyes, squinting a bit at the light. Where was he? His head throbbed with pain, and his favorite knives were absent.

"Welcome back, Milord. Are you alright?"

Anya's beautiful face looked down at him, and he pieced the situation together. The green-skinned woman, Cyari, had broken through his defenses. She was faster than him, and her strange way of stepping made it too difficult to predict her actions. She had disarmed him far too easily, and had laughed as she knocked him unconscious.

"Always someone better," he muttered to himself.

"Aye, always." Xentor's voice came from the far corner of the room. "It was foolish to fight her, Rotai."

"Then I am a fool, but a fool with one more piece of information. A name. She called herself Cyari." Rotai pushed himself up to a sitting position, and recognized one of the guest rooms above the tavern.

"I know it not, but it may prove useful. I, too, am a fool, it seems, or at least my sire believes so."

Anya smiled, laughing internally at the two men, and pressed a warm cloth to Rotai's head. "Surrounded by fools, am I? Well, I suppose that's better than all the drunks downstairs."

Both assassin and wizard couldn't help but smile, exchanging a quick glance over her shoulder. Xentor idly pulled the black stone from his pocket, turning it over in his hand and staring into it, as if hoping for an answer, even this far from his home.

"She had a tail, you know. Like some sort of serpent. I've never seen someone like that before."

The bard moved past the two men, heading towards the door. "Well, I should finish my set, before the crowd downstairs stops drinking." Suddenly, a hand shot up to grab her upper arm. Xentor was staring intently at the rock in his right palm, while holding her still with his left. Rotai got to his feet quickly, for a moment worried that the wizard was going to hurt her.

"Wait," the prince began, his almost despaired expression changing subtly. "I'd like to show you something. Your hand, please."

Anya hesitated, looking down at him, but extended her palm towards him. He placed the rock in it, letting the chain dangle freely. "It is nothing but a rock, Milord. A... warm rock."

"It is a necklace. And though I do not understand why, I believe it was meant for you." His grip on her arm released, and he looked up at her. For the first time in nearly two years, he smiled.

## * * *

"Hold position and deploy!"

The men were quick to follow Brasin's orders, halting their vehicles and running to the supply trucks to get the portable barricades and stationary turrets. The scouts pulled back to base and refitted their skimmers with revolving guns and proximity detonators. The artillery tanks extended their stabilizers, lifting their treads off the ground and inclining the heavy cannons.

"This is madness, Mr. Brasin. That village is completely defenseless. You have no reason to strike them."

"The science experiment is over, researcher. This is a military matter, and I am in command. Take your apprentice and wait with the supply trucks."

Caltoren realized it was pointless to argue with the man, and did as he was asked, gesturing for Belryn to follow. Only when safely out of hearing range did he speak quietly to the young boy.

"This must not be allowed to happen. Have the communications officer relay a message back to the institute, and inform them of the situation."  
"But Sir, without proper authorization, I can't—"

"I have taught you that the word of the law must sometimes be twisted to uphold the spirit of the law, have I not? Well, it now falls to us to stop the slaughter of at least fifty innocent lives. I will not force you to lie, lad. Simply tell them that you are acting on my instructions, and let them simply assume that the commander approved."

Belryn hesitated, but slowly nodded. With a last glance towards the commander, he ran off to the communications relay. Caltoren smiled, watching the boy for a moment, then turning to the somewhat more grim task ahead of him.

* * *

ArchMage Treloc surveyed the forces he had assembled in the palace courtyard. Only nine guardians, himself included, could be spared from the Telthan war to defend against these invaders. His wife, Princess Xentalia, was in no condition to fight, and even if she were, he would not allow it. She was the most skilled healer on all of Xen, but she had never had any interest in combat. Besides, he could not bear to risk his unborn child in what could very well be a suicidal mission.

"You have been told of the task before you. We face no more than eighty enemy soldiers, yet whether by foresight or circumstance, their vehicles and weapons are constructed of the one thing our magic cannot affect or guard against. Keep your distance and remain in motion, for a force shield will do you no good. Use your magic to distract and mislead them, and strike only when you can do so with relative safety. We have lost far too many brothers in the Telthan conflict, and I will not lose more to this. I do not know how effective a Blade Staff will be against Xianite armor, but we must try."

"We will not fail, Prince Treloc," spoke the youngest conjuror of the group. Barely able to form a portal, and yet he would now fly into combat with a superior enemy. A pity it had to come to this, but the ArchMage was used to making difficult decisions. One day, he could be called upon to lead the Guardians, and he would be prepared.

* * *

The portal snapped shut behind Xentor and Anya, as they emerged in the center of the small village. In moments, the village elder came running to them.

"Prince Xentor! We were afraid no one would come! The invaders are just beyond the dunes to the east, and I fear they plan to attack us! We have no weapons!"

The cloaked figure said nothing, but made a wide, sweeping gesture, and a wide oval blurred into view. It looked similar to the portal that had taken them here from the Crescent Moon, but a flat expanse could be seen through it, surrounded on at least two sides by stone walls. Anya looked around her, taking a deep breath and almost coughing at the dusty air. What was this place?

"Milord, where have you taken us?"

Xentor nodded to the elder, who began leading the villagers through the strange portal, then turned to her. His gaze paused momentarily on the stone hanging around her neck.

"This is Xen, my home. I must apologize for bringing you into this war, but I had no alternative. I have taken this necklace to nearly half the villages on my world, but it only became warm when you drew near. It chose you, and so you must do..." He trailed off, seeming unsure.

"Do what? You brought me into a war? Milord, I'm a singer, not a fighter! Why me? Why not Rotai? He would be at home in such a conflict!"

"The assassin was in no condition to fight, and his skills will be of no use here. I do not know what task lies before us, but I do know that the survival of my people depends on our success. Come."

The wizard extended a hand to her, and she hesitantly took it. Perhaps he had doomed them both to a grisly death, but something about him compelled her to follow. She adjusted the lute strapped across her back, and followed him towards the rocky plains.

* * *

"Commander, we've got movement on the battlefield! Scouts are reporting two unarmed civilians." The guardsman hesitated a bit as he listened to his earpiece. "A man in a cloak, and a woman with some sort of wooden object on her back. They're on foot, moving this way."

Brasin paused a moment, torn between caution and curiosity. In the end, caution won out. "Artillery two, take them out."

A hush spread over the platoon as the soldiers waited for the battle to begin. Only a faint whirring could be heard as the cannon was rotated and raised into the proper firing position.

* * *

The shot thundered across the battlefield, momentarily stunning even Xentor. One short step, and he cast his eyes to the sky and stopped walking. A ball of fire was streaking through the sky, arcing towards them.

"What is... It's going to hit us!" Anya opened her eyes wide, trying to pull away from his grip so she could run to the relative safety of the village. He wouldn't let her go. He simply stared as it approached.

"Xianite," was his only word. He casually cast his gaze to either side, at the various rocks and small boulders strewn across the landscape. They became his weapons. As one, the stones rose from the ground, beginning to revolve around him like leaves spinning around a whirlpool. Several larger ones shot upward at the incoming fireball, and the rest spun faster and faster, as if the wizard was trying to build them into a shield.

* * *

The explosion lit up the sky, but Brasin didn't need a scout report to know what happened.

"Negative impact, Sir. Something struck the shell in mid-air. Sir, the scouts are saying... This doesn't make any sense... Say again, alpha team?" The soldier put a hand to his earpiece, pressing it in as he listened to the report.

"Out with it, guardsman."

"Sir, they say the rocks are flying. They're spinning around the two civilians. One of the rocks intercepted our shell, and the rest are just... spinning. The civilians have ceased their advance, Sir."

So the enemy had some technology after all. There had to be anti-gravity devices hidden in the rocks, and some sort of propulsion devices. It made no difference. Brasin wasn't about to let some flying rocks cheat him out of victory. It was time.

"All batteries, commence firing. Destroy it all."

## * * *

Treloc's small army soared over the desert plains, the stronger mages assisting the weaker ones, and all keeping watch for the enemy. It was only minutes before the battle became visible, but it was not what any of them expected.

Far below them, the village stood in ruins as flaming Xianite cannonballs rained down on it from above. The buildings were either burning or collapsed, but there was no sign of any inhabitants. That last fact puzzled Treloc for a moment, but only until he saw what they were really shooting at.

One lone Guardian stood a short distance east of the village, levitating hundreds of rocks and boulders around himself, using them to intercept anything that came too close to him or his companion. A flicker of reflected light shone off a spinning Blade Staff, moving frantically as the Guardian stood between his companion and certain death. Why didn't he just teleport them to safety? Why remain?

"Prince Treloc, isn't that... Prince Xentor?"

The young conjuror was right. The color of the cloak matched, and few Guardians were powerful enough to coordinate such an elaborate defense. Any new apprentice could levitate a rock, but it took great skill to direct so many at a time, and true mastery to retain enough attention to wield a weapon at the same time.

"Fan out! Prince Xentor has shown you the way! The world itself will be our weapon! Wield it against the enemy! Attack!"

* * *

"Sir, you're not going to believe this! Look at the scanner readout!" Belryn ran over to his master, trying to show him what he'd discovered.

"I know, lad. Did you send the message?"

"Yes, Sir. The Institute is dispatching a survey team, but they won't be here for at least three days."

Caltoren sighed, his last alternative gone. He reached a hand into his pocket, gripping the handle of the sidearm he had stolen from the supply truck. Gesturing for Belryn to remain, he made his way towards Brasin. Someone had to end this.

* * *

Anya cowered in fear, watching metal fragments zipping past her on both sides, and shrieking as each fiery projectile arced overhead. The wizard stood firm, his weapon a mere blur as he somehow protected her from the onslaught.

"You must do it now! I cannot... protect you for... much longer." His voice was weaker than usual, and she wished there was a way she could help.

"But, Milord, I don't know—" Something slammed into the ground a short distance away, and the tremor knocked her off her feet. She landed hard on her side, the strings of her lute screeching momentarily as it hit the sand. At the same time, she felt a strange warmth radiating from her chest, then a pinching sensation at the back of her neck. She reached a hand around, thinking an insect had bitten her, but it was gone. The warmth remained.

"You must... Hurry..." Still weaker, and nothing she could do to assist him. She pushed herself upright and stood, looking down at the source of the strange heat.

The rock was glowing bright red, radiating warmth throughout her body, but not burning her. Even as she reached to remove it, though, the glow faded away. What had caused it?

"Milord, the rock... It—"

* * *

An explosion rocked the desert, and a second and third followed. The soldiers scrambled for cover as boulders rocketed into the ground a short distance away. Bolts of lightning flared into the camp from all sides, and lines of liquid fire streamed between the tanks, setting the supply trucks ablaze.

"Eyes to the sky! Incoming!" The scout shouted his warning as he circled the camp on his skimmer. Men, it seemed, were flying through the air above, and hurling elemental chaos upon the camp. How was this possible? What kind of devices could do that?

"Artillery cannons and forward units, focus on the ground targets! Stationary turrets, take out the aerial targets! Fire at will!" Brasin screamed his commands over the roaring gunfire, and his soldiers reacted immediately. Something wasn't right. With the amount of pure energy being unleashed upon the camp, they should have all been dead in moments. Illusion?

* * *

Caltoren lost his footing as a bolt of lightning flew past his head, nearly blinding him. The sidearm clattered to the ground, but he quickly retrieved it. He rose slowly to face the carnage, his mind traveling beyond the immediate danger to analyze exactly what was happening.

Lightning bolts were striking the ground, when they should have been attracted to the tanks and trucks first. Rocks were leaving craters all around the camp, but none actually came close enough to harm anyone. The supply trucks were hit by some sort of fire, but that was the only part of the camp with no personnel nearby. Were these attackers going out of their way to avoid casualties? If so, why?

This changed everything. Killing the commander now would risk throwing the platoon into utter chaos, and that was no longer an option. He pocketed the weapon and rushed off to find his apprentice.

* * *

"What's happening? Are you doing all that?"

"My... friends... Please... Hurry..."

The wizard clearly couldn't keep this up much longer. She had to do something, but what? The rock started glowing when she fell down, right when her lute—

It came to her in a flash, and she quickly unfastened the strap and brought the instrument in front of her.

"Please, let this work," she quietly prayed. Closing her eyes and shutting out the battle around her, she fingered a chord and let her hand fall across the strings.

## * * *

There were many different kinds of magic on Earth, but any user would tell you that they have a particular way of activating their powers. Some would recite ancient words, some would act through gestures, and still others would perform entire rituals to work their art.

That was, of course, the key. Art. Magic was a creative work like any other, and the method of use depended on the particular talents and abilities of the user. A painter may work through glyphs, a poet through words, or an alchemist through potions. Anya was none of these things, but she was an artist.

Even as the first chord sounded, the stone of the pendant flared to life, spreading its warmth through her body. There was another pinch at the back of her neck, but she ignored it and focused on her art. She blocked out the explosions and the lightning, the fires and the thunder. She imagined herself in a peaceful place, singing to the forests and meadows. She thought of happiness and love, and she sang. The melody flowed through her, and the warmth radiated outward. The battle had stopped completely, but she had more important things on her mind.

* * *

"Pull back!" Treloc called to the four other remaining Guardians, and they drifted slowly to the ground to watch the transformation. The woman was glowing more brightly than any sun he had ever laid eyes on. The light was spreading outwards like an explosion, but there was no thunder. There was only music.

* * *

Brasin watched through his scope as the light spread in all directions. He watched a beam of red light shoot off towards the northeast, and he watched what seemed like an even greater explosion in the distance, somewhere near the center of the desert. He looked around at his soldiers, who had stopped firing to stare in awe, and he watched the flying men descending.

He kept his voice low, speaking only to the nearest guardsman. It was time to end this.

"Instruct all batteries to target those men and fire on my command." The guardsman snapped out of his momentary trance and nodded, quietly relaying the orders through the communications system.

"Waiting on your orders, commander."

"Ready... And..."

* * *

Caltoren fired his sidearm, and his aim was true. The shot rang out in the silence, and every soldier in the camp turned towards him, raising their weapons to avenge their leader.

"I am taking command of this platoon. Consider Mr. Brasin relieved of duty."

All was silent, except for the music. The guardsman kept his weapon trained on Caltoren, and prepared to fire.

"Look around, you fools. Are you blind?"

One soldier turned his eyes from the scientist, then another. Jaws dropped almost as fast as weapons as they took in their surroundings.

* * *

The landscape was changing right before their eyes. The sky above was slowly turning from red to blue, and the desert had all but disappeared. Craters were hidden by bushes, and rocks covered by grasses. To the north, life itself was showing its splendor as saplings grew into a majestic forest. To the south, a hollow depression darkened and filled with water. To the west, the burning buildings were extinguished as a rainstorm passed across the meadows. The music grew to a crescendo, and the storm parted to let the light shine down on them all.

"Sir, is any of this even possible?" Belryn had walked up beside him, and was staring in awe at the fading glow.

Caltoren had no answer.

* * *

Anya opened her eyes, as the last note faded into silence. She took a deep breath of fresh air and gazed up at the sky, waiting a moment as the stone faded to black and the heat vanished.

"Milord, I... I did it." She lowered her eyes to the wizard, but found him missing. Her gaze lowered to the ground, and she saw the crumpled body, the grass around it swimming in a pool of blood.

"Aye... You... did it." His voice was barely audible, but the utter silence carried it like a scream. She dropped to his side, her instrument falling away, and carefully pulled the folds of his cloak aside.

Only his weapon remained pure, still clutched tightly in his left hand. His arms, legs, and chest were riddled with holes, and his eyes were falling shut. He had sacrificed himself to keep her safe. No man had ever given so much for one as unimportant as her. No, he didn't give his life for her, but for the safety of his world. Still, she could think of no nobler gesture.

## * * *

"The Prince is wounded! Quickly, we must bring him to the palace!" Treloc and his Guardians rushed to Xentor's side, two of them levitating him off the ground, one forming a portal, and the young conjuror carefully pulling the girl out of the way.

"Can you save him!?"

"If it can be done, it will." He gestured towards the youth. "Bring her with him, and treat her well. I believe we have her to thank for this transformation."

It was times like this that pained Treloc, and made his duty seem more of a burden. Even with the full attention of the Princess, Xentor might not survive long. Treloc's place was at his side, but no one person could take precedence over the kingdom. He adjusted his cloak and turned to the east, seeing a group of the invaders already walking towards him.

"I am ArchMage Prince Treloc of Xen. I represent Lord Xen, ruler of this world."

"I am Senior Researcher Caltoren of the Institute. I can not speak for our leaders with authority, but I'm afraid I will have to suffice."

Treloc looked up and down at the slightly-overweight man standing before him, sparing a glance for the adolescent boy at his side.

"Have your men stand down. I believe we have passed beyond violence."

"Yes, we have much to discuss, Prince Treloc. Did you call yourself a... mage?"

Treloc smiled. "We have much to discuss."

* * *

"Why won't you let me see him?" Anya paced back and forth in the small shack, paying little attention to the magical knick-knacks decorating the walls and tables. Her eyes rested on the old man in the chair, but her mind was locked on her dying savior.

"Calm yourself, girl. I'm sure Xentalia is doing all she can to save her brother. You would only be in the way."

"I should be at his side! I'm the reason he's dying!"

Relvar sighed, already growing impatient with the Earth woman. "Sacrifices are sometimes necessary. You accomplished a great feat. You were chosen for this task against your will, yet you still accomplished it."

Anya stopped pacing, looking the ArchSorcerer directly in the eyes for a moment before continuing calmly. "If I wasn't there, someone else would have been 'chosen' the same way, would they not? I find it difficult to believe that this necklace was created for someone not even from your world. It would make more sense if it required a certain skill to trigger its magic. Music, perhaps?"

Relvar smiled, nodding once, pleasantly surprised. "Aye, girl. That would be my theory. The necklace allows you to work with the Xen Magic, but it requires a certain method of thought that your music must provide."

* * *

Princess Xentalia stood silently over the body of her brother, manipulating the magic with her thoughts to try to cleanse the dozens of wounds decorating his body.

"I do not understand it. You have healed much more serious wounds before."

"His body resists me, my husband. The bullets are fashioned of Xianite, and they have fragmented inside the wounds."

Treloc frowned, determined not to let the prince die while he could still help. A red mist formed around his right hand, and a steel dagger took shape in his grip. Without hesitation, he plunged the blade into one of Xentor's wounds, beginning his task.

"Treloc!" Xentalia glared at him, completely shocked. "What is the meaning of this!?"

The ArchMage kept his eyes on his work, carving out the flesh around the first of the bullet holes, his voice calm but determined. "Do not let him wake. When the wound is clean, work your art on it, and we will move to the next. He will not die this day."

* * *

The sky shone brightly above the lush, forest landscape of Xen. Four men watched from the parapets of the palace as a caravan of villagers left the gates, heading back to rebuild their town.

"The legends say that all this was created by a race of gods." Lord Xen made a wide, sweeping gesture, indicating the skies above more than the land below. "Aeotians, they are called. They brought their entire world, Aeos, to this frame, then set out to create the millions of dimensions you will soon explore."

Caltoren rested a hand on his apprentice's shoulder, nodding along with the aged ruler. "Our records tell a similar story. When the younger races grew old, the creators formed two new dimensions, each with one world constructed entirely of Xianite. The races born within were to serve as peacekeepers to the rest of the frame."

The voice of the old guard-captain, Xenlic, came from behind, his armor clinking dully as he stepped forward to join them. "We call ourselves Guardians, actually. By stopping wars between the other races, we ensure their survival. One day, they will grow mature, and we will no longer be needed."

The scientist smiled, nodding agreement. This soldier was a welcome contrast to Brasin and his ilk, and the ruler of this side of the planet was clearly a wise man. "I hope to see that day come, but I suspect that many others lay before it, and before us. This radiation, your magic, is quite astounding, but I believe you can still learn as much from us as we can from you. Our side of Xen was isolated from the outside worlds, but now begins a period of exploration and learning."

Lord Xen reached a hand out towards the trees, and a gentle wind blew through the forest at his mental command. "With your machines, your potential is nearly unlimited. Perhaps you can show us what lies beyond the realm of magic, on the other side of the frame."

"Are you proposing an alliance, Lord Xen?" Caltoren raised an eyebrow, looking over at the old wizard.

"No, my new friend. The Aeotians proposed this alliance when Xen was created. I merely accept the invitation, and hope that your people do the same."

"My Lord," spoke a voice from behind the old men, "The Telthans have sent another probe."

Xenlic smiled, leaning on the parapets and gazing out at the forest. "I suppose Emperor Taksal is expecting to see this palace in ruins, and the Guardians exterminated."

"This would be the enemy you spoke of?" Caltoren grinned almost childishly as the soldier nodded a reply. "Then I believe it's time to ruin his day."

#

# Part IV - Hunter

Without warning, an energy beam sliced through the bushes and cut into the man's arm before dissipating. The sound of another beam came, followed by a truncated scream, and the metallic footsteps faded.

As his breath shortened, he looked up at her, fear showing in his eyes. His voice came in short rasps as the poison burned through his flesh, spreading into his bloodstream. "Leave me... Escape... Survive..."

She nodded, laying a hand on the man's shoulder for a moment, before creeping away into the forest. This was neither the place nor the time for heroics, and even if she knew of a way to stop the horrible venom, the beast would return soon, to confirm its kill. In the end, she was just as doomed as him, but she would not roll over and die for them. No, she would resist them with every breath in her body, and when it came time for her to die, she would do so with honor. This, she vowed.

* * *

The coin lifted slowly off the table, wobbling a bit in mid-air as the humming grew louder. It turned twice, end over end, then dropped to the wooden surface. The sound startled her, and the humming stopped. Her eyes opened slowly as the magic faded.

"You cannot expect to control it in this manner. Would you paint a canvas without seeing the results of each brush stroke?"

"Milord, when I open my eyes, they vanish. This is the only way I can see the clouds."

Xentor sighed, wondering how Relvar originally taught him, all those years ago. This bard was quite intelligent, but something was still lacking. It had been two weeks already, and she couldn't exercise any fine control of the magic at all.

"Your mind is what controls the magic, Anya. If you believe it cannot be done, then it cannot be done. Your power is limited at some point, just as mine is, but if you set yourself an even lower limit, then you can never realize your potential."

"Pay him no mind, Anya." Rotai sat down at their table, settling back into the shadows as always. "The wizard hasn't had a good drink in days, and is quite stiff."

The prince exhaled slowly, shaking his head a bit. "Stiff, perhaps. The war has been silent for weeks now, and every day I wait for the next attack. Even with the two sides of Xen united, the Telthans are a formidable enemy."

The assassin nodded, understanding, as he watched Anya close her eyes to try again. "The calm before the storm. Allow me to offer you some advice from a humble tradesman. Your life is just a series of conflicts, with calm periods in between. My life is calm and pleasant, with the occasional conflict to make things interesting. Do you see the difference?"

Xentor raised an eyebrow, looking at Rotai in a new light as he stood and adjusted his cloak. "Wise words from one so young. I have much to think on, my friend. Make sure she continues practicing while I am gone."

The coin clattered to the table as Anya opened her eyes, but the Guardian had already vanished. She sighed to herself, not even noticing Rotai's gaze on her, and looked down at the coin again. If the prince wanted her to be a wizard, then she would become a wizard, no matter how many times she had to try. She would prove that she was worthy of his affection, and then he would be hers, and she would be his. She pictured the two of them at a royal ball, dancing the night away as beautiful music filled the hall. He would hold her tightly in his arms, and she would—

"Anya? What's the matter? Are you well?" Rotai had his hand on her shoulder, shaking her from her daydream. She smiled a bit, and looked idly at the table in front of her, still humming the music from her fantasy.

"Rotai... I... I see them."

* * *

The metal arm extended, the pincers closing on another large metal shape. With a creaking of gears, the component was lifted to the top of the structure, where workers in altitude harnesses began to fasten it in place.

Far below, Caltoren watched the construction, glancing occasionally at his schematics. At this rate, it would be less than ten days before the superstructure was complete and another fifty before the vehicle was fully assembled.

"Sir, I'm seeing a point five discrepancy in the beam focusers. I don't think the emitters were built up to our specifications."

"I see. Well, this should only cost us two or three percent efficiency, depending on the rest of the assembly. Once the new fabrication plant is complete, we can create some replacement parts and fit them in later."

The apprentice nodded, entering some notes into the console on his armband. Belryn was learning even more quickly than anticipated, and was well on his way to achieving Journeyman status. Caltoren would have to contact the Institute and make sure it was taken care of.

"Your work proceeds quickly, Researcher. What exactly are you building?"

"Prince Xentor!" These mages had a nasty habit of appearing and disappearing without proper warning. "You know, you really shouldn't sneak up on an old man like that."

The Sorcerer nodded politely, his eyes focused more on the Xianite monstrosity than the scientists beside him. "I have been to many worlds, but I have never seen a device like this."

"Ah, well, I wish I could claim credit for inventing it, but you see much of the information used to build it came from the Pedestal on our side of the world. We simply had no reason to build it until now, since we can only reach the other dimensions from this side."

Xentor watched with interest as the giant metal hands lifted immense chunks of Xianite to the top of the structure. Despite the crudity of these machines, he had to admit there was a certain beauty to their functioning.

"So this is a teleporter of some sort? I do not see why it must be so large."

"Oh, come, Guardian. You must think in broader terms. Certainly, there are teams working on building dimensional portals, but if we are to assist you in this war, sending infantry and small vehicles will be quite insufficient. I understand that a single mage is a powerful force, but you must place some trust in our methods, for we must work a bit differently."

After a few moments of silence, the cloaked figure turned towards Caltoren, raising one eyebrow.

"Small vehicles," he began, thinking over the scientist's words. "Mere weeks since you saw the open sky, and already you are constructing warships? And this device is related somehow, I assume."

"Quite astute, my friend. The first vessel is already well into development, and this field inverter will launch it out of the planet's gravity well. It will be quite a chore to transport it through the tunnel from the other side of Xen, but once deployed, it will be quite a powerful force. The first of many, we hope."

Xentor opened his mouth to reply, but a glimpse of white light distracted him. He turned to face west, and saw a fireball shooting up from the distant palace. It was the signal he had been expecting.

* * *

"I can see the head. It will not be much longer."

"It will take as long as is necessary, my husband. Should not I be the impatient one?" Xentalia smiled warmly as she lay on the bed, quite calm despite being in the middle of giving birth.

Relvar and Lord Xen exchanged a glance, keeping to the side as not to interfere. "You know, when my wife first gave birth, she was screaming so loudly, I thought the walls themselves would shatter. Now my daughter suffers the same ordeal with a smile."

The Arch-Sorcerer laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Your daughter was one of my best students. I expect no less."

"Oh, Mentor Relvar," the princess called out, "Your compliments are entirely appreciated, but it might surprise you how little magic is needed to remove the—Aaaah!" She yelped as her magic was momentarily disrupted, and spasms of pain shot through her body.

Lord Xen chuckled, slipping out of his second sight and letting his daughter's magic resume. "You never did manage to teach her humility, my friend."

Relvar sighed a bit, nodding and adjusting his black cloak. "Neither of your children would learn it. They take after their father."

Treloc stood at his wife's feet, waiting impatiently for his child to emerge fully. "Your brother should be here by now. Did he not see my flare?"

"No, I did not," came Xentor's voice from the far corner, "For I have become completely blind, and unable to see a white fireball nearly as large as the palace itself." He nodded a greeting to his father and Mentor, then walked calmly to Xentalia's side. "So am I about to receive a niece or a nephew, sister?"

"You are as impatient as my husband, brother. I believe we will know in just another moment."

"Have you decided on a name?"

"Taloc for a boy, Trellia for a girl. Yes, I know combining names is a bit old-fashioned, but it is our choice to make. Ah, now which is it, my husband?"

As they turned to look at the foot of the bed, Treloc reached down and lifted the child into his arms, wrapping it in a red cloth, his smile so wide it could nearly span the length of the room. "We have a daughter!"

As he carried it over to its beaming mother, the two elder mages exchanged a glance before gesturing upward.

A torrent of fire shot from above the palace, flaming balls of all colors flying off into the sky, a fountain of magic to celebrate the newest member of the royal family.

A booming voice echoed from all around, reaching all parts of Xen as the two men intertwined their magic.

All hail the newborn Princess Trellia of Xen!

Out in the middle of the eastern plains, Caltoren's crew stopped their labor for a moment to listen to the announcement. On the southern parapet of the palace, Xenlic drew one of his staves and pointed it skyward in salute. In villages all across the land, people cheered as their new princess was born.

In Xentalia's bedroom, all five mages stood paralyzed as a white flash filled the room. Only a gray cloak was visible on the figure that snatched the infant and vanished.

##

## * * *

"This is intolerable! You saw it as well as I! That was Xen Magic!" Prince Xentor stormed back and forth in the throne room, seething with rage, wisps of red fire dancing between his fingertips as if ready to turn the entire planet into cinders.

"Calm yourself, my son." Lord Xen sat on his throne, his face locked in a frown, but his eyebrows furrowed in thought. "Your anger will not bring the girl back. Yes, that was Xen Magic, but you may also have noticed that it was stronger than all of us combined."

Relvar remained calm, showing no temper at all, despite the horrible incident. "Perhaps the legends are true. Perhaps the Aeotians do exist."

The prince clenched his fists, quenching the fire but not the fuel. "My newborn niece was kidnapped, and you attribute it to myth? Do you think that one of your so-called gods walked into the palace and spirited the infant away? Are you mad?!"

"Xentor! Show some respect for your elders! I will not have this in my home! Leave my presence, and do not return until you have that temper of yours under control."

The pacing stopped, and the young sorcerer frowned towards the two elder mages. Between his teeth, he muttered a simple, "Yes, Sire." Balls of flame shot downward from his hands as he unclenched them and disappeared into a portal.

* * *

The beast swiveled its head from side to side as it walked quickly down the dirt path toward the next village. Its infrared sensors were still out of alignment, not calibrated for the additional background heat on this world, but the visual sensors were adequate now that the sun had risen to the center of the sky.

This was a different sort of hunting ground, with many targets to eliminate, but the beast had instructions to obey. The unusual radiation was being kept at bay by the inhibitor module, but it could still be sensed at a distance, and there was a slight current in this direction. The current would lead directly to the objectives, and the beast would eliminate them.

* * *

"I tell you, I saw it! I swear to it! Please, you must believe me!"

The farmer had been ranting for several minutes, and Rotai was becoming slightly annoyed. He sipped his ale at his usual table, while the blacksmith and the innkeeper tried to calm the poor fool.

"Yes, you keep telling us." The innkeeper fancied himself a bit of an intellectual, but this was too ridiculous to be true. "Now how many legs did it have again?"

"Five! Five legs and three arms!" A few of the patrons chuckled, whispering among themselves, coins changing hands as they gambled on the farmer's deranged imagination.

"Five legs? You making your own brew out there on the farm? Cause I think you put the wrong berries in."

"I know what I saw! It killed two of my cows with some weird yellow light! They turned black and fell down like they had a plague!"

People started edging away from him at that last comment. Some were probably worried that he had already infected them with his madness, or perhaps something more deadly. Rotai just shook his head and sipped his ale, not about to run away because some farmer had an overactive imagination.

The door swung open as one of the town guards took a step inside, nodding to a few others who were drinking lightly near the stage. A few hand signals and they hurriedly dropped some coins on the table and left, their sword hilts banging against chairs as they weaved between the tables.

The patrons watched that silent exchange, but only the farmer spoke. "Oh no, it followed me! It's coming to kill me! Run for your lives!" He broke free of the men interrogating him, and ran out of the tavern like death itself was on his heels.

Rotai wasn't about to believe the insane farmer, but anything that called up off-duty guards was of interest, and the timing was an odd coincidence. The assassin didn't believe in coincidence.

* * *

Xentor stepped out of the narrow alley behind the tavern, his arrival unnoticed by the crowd of villagers in the street. A number of guards were being given orders by their captain, and dozens of onlookers had gathered to see what all the fuss was about. A dirty-looking man ran down the street to the east, screaming about some sort of metal monster, but no one paid any attention to him.

"Is this your doing, wizard?" The quiet voice came from off to the right, as his friend emerged from the tavern. "You shouldn't scare them so much. It's bad for business."

The prince shook his head, watching the townsfolk with some curiosity. His anger was fading, but not forgotten. His niece would be recovered or avenged, but the events of the moment distracted him somewhat.

Rotai shrugged and stood beside him to watch, sparing a glance for the fleeing madman. "He came in here yelling about some sort of monster that killed his cows. Too much time alone on the farm, I suppose."

"The guards seem to be taking it seriously." Indeed, the armored men were moving to the west end of town, spreading out as if to guard against an invader. Guards with crossbows were climbing up to the rooftops, and others with swords and pikes waited in the road to meet the threat face-to-face.

"The guards haven't had anyone to fight since the last war, and that was over ten years ago. I'm sure those dragons of yours ate well that winter, after the armies turned south."

Xentor continued to watch the guards deploy, something on his mind. "The man who fled mentioned a metal monster. Perhaps I heard incorrectly."

"Metal? I don't remember hearing that. He said it was some creature with five legs and three arms, and that it killed his cows with a yellow light." The assassin glanced to the side and caught his friend's expression. "Wait, are you telling me you believe him?"

"Five and three. An odd combination."

"The man is insane, Xentor. Perhaps you missed that part." Rotai looked to him again, seeing a pair of glowing red eyes and a thousand-yard stare. "Xentor?"

* * *

The trees were separating ahead, and buildings were visible in the distance. The infrared sensors were still inaccurate, but visual sensors showed metallic forms on and near the structures. Other hunters, perhaps? They were not responding on the communication frequency, but that might just be a malfunction.

Something rebounded off arm number three, leaving a barely-detectable dent in the armor plating, and a reverse trajectory mapping showed it originated from one of the hunters on the rooftops. No, they could not be hunters if they are using harmless projectiles.

If they were not hunters, they were targets.

* * *

A yellow beam of light flashed from the forest, striking one of the crossbowmen on the rooftop. He fell to the ground, but a few broken bones seemed the least of his problems, for his skin was already starting to blacken. As the other guards stared in shock, two more were slain by the beams.

The monster moved into view as crossbow bolts ricocheted off its metal skin. Five legs moved in an odd rhythm to let it glide across the ground, and three arms spaced around the torso shot yellow beams from their tips. The head was merely a sphere with two black eye-like circles, but Rotai could almost feel its gaze on him anyway.

He noted Xentor was gone, and moved into the shadows to watch the slaughter, wanting to learn more about the enemy before deciding whether to attack or retreat. The guards were fools to attack blindly, but he would not die a fool.

* * *

The beast tried to adjust its infrared sensors to track its target, as it was no longer detectable except by following the current of the radiation. After eliminating several more targets with particle emitters, the beast aimed directly along the line of current and fired again. The beam was halted in mid-air by something unseen, but for a fraction of a second, a sphere was illuminated by the impact. The beast fired again with the same effect, but this time the sphere was closer.

* * *

Invisibility wasn't really that difficult, once you mastered the basic techniques. The energy shield was harder to maintain, especially with the monster firing beam weapons at him.

Xentor slowly moved toward the creature, wondering how it could detect him so accurately, and drew the Blade Staff from his belt clip. He had already tried to shield the monster itself, and to rip it apart magically, but something had stopped the clouds from getting close to it. His magic could not affect it.

He stepped closer, wincing slightly as each beam struck his shield, as it took that much more concentration and energy to withstand the hit. He moved a bit to the side, but the next beam still hit dead-center. A few more steps would put him close enough to use his weapon, and few things could stand up to a Blade Staff.

* * *

The beast continued to fire particle beams at the unseen object, but they had no effect. The object was close now, but there was no noticeable change in the impact. Never before had the beast failed to eliminate a target after a direct hit, and it was exhausting its power cells in the attempt.

It lowered its emitters and paused, waiting for them to recharge, but then something inexplicable happened. A humanoid target appeared out of thin air, holding a sharpened metal rod. Wait, this was an objective! The radiation was flowing directly toward the target, though of course it was stopped by the beast's inhibitor module.

Since the particle emitters were not effective, the beast extended its claws on all three arms. The target would still be eliminated, and the hunt would continue.

* * *

Rotai stealthily climbed up to a rooftop, watching the strange battle. The monster had been shooting at mid-air for several minutes, ignoring the guards entirely. Then the wizard had jumped out of the empty air with that strange weapon of his, and the monster had grown knives of some sort on its arms.

The man swung his staff, but had to duck aside at the last moment to avoid one of those knives. A metal foot thrust out and knocked him to the ground a couple feet away. Rotai carefully watched the way the creature moved, the way it attacked, and the way it defended. He had no idea what it was, but any foe could be defeated if you knew its next move.

The monster stabbed with a knife, but Xentor rolled aside and severed the arm. It knocked the wizard back again with a kick, but he got to his feet in time to slash the next arm that came at him. The man was only a half-decent fighter, probably no match for Rotai himself, but the monster fought with the clumsiness of one who had never held a weapon.

* * *

Xentor stayed on his feet with some difficulty, already exhausted from fending off those beam weapons. He could barely stay upright, but he had to finish this. The monster quickly rotated to bring its last arm into play, but he wasn't about to get caught a third time. As the claw stabbed at him, he instead stepped to the side and thrust his weapon directly at the unguarded torso.

The Xianite weapon sliced effortlessly through the armor, cutting through whatever was beneath. He knew he had succeeded as the clouds of magic flowed to him, no longer kept away by the creature. The claw dropped limply to the ground, and he felt heat conducting through his staff as he withdrew it.

Pausing to catch his breath, he retracted his Blade Staff and started walking back toward the town, toward the sound of cheering townspeople. As he returned the weapon to his belt clip, his thoughts were interrupted by a beeping sound behind him, the pitch rising steadily.

Red clouds filled his vision, and an energy shield took shape around the broken monster only seconds before it exploded. The strain knocked Xentor to his knees, but he held the shield long enough to contain the blast.

As he released the magic, he thought he caught a glimpse of a green-skinned woman at the edge of the crowd. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment to clear his vision, but she was gone. Had she slipped away, or did he imagine her? He pushed the thought aside as Anya rushed over to help him to his feet, managing a slight smile to let her know he was well.

But he wasn't well. Not really. He knew who sent that machine, and there would be more. This was only the beginning.

## * * *

She crept softly through the underbrush, the young man following with considerably less skill. The beasts were out there, somewhere, but she had lost track of them after crossing the last stream. Her feet were still cold and numb from the icy water, but she couldn't afford to stop.

Images flashed through her mind, of her other two companions. The deadly beams had touched them, and blackened their flesh until no life remained. She had to outrun the beasts, or she and her last companion would suffer the same fate.

"How much further?" She whispered, moving closer to the edge of the cliff and edging around a thorny tree trunk.

"There," he pointed. "I can see the boundary from here."

The man had said much the same for the past two days as they crept through the mismatched terrain. Two days since his first sighting, and eight more since she met him. It seemed a mere moment beside the months she'd been imprisoned. Years, perhaps, though it was hard to judge the passage of time from inside the dank cells. They had finally tired of her, and sent her to the surface to be hunted down like a diseased animal. She and so many others.

She stopped suddenly as the bushes fell away into a wide meadow, waist-high grasses swaying gently in the wind. The grass was harmless enough, as was the wind, but the two beasts standing like statues on the far side were more dangerous than anything she had ever seen.

"Why are you stopping?" For such a powerful man, he wasn't very observant.

"They're waiting for us." She carefully pointed out the metallic statues, keeping her eyes locked on them, afraid they might leap away if she blinked.

"They must know. The boundary passes right through this field."

"One of us can reach it, if the other lures the beasts away."

"They won't both follow me. One will stay to watch for you." This close to their goal, the tension in his voice was almost tangible.

"They will. I've seen them hunt in pairs, and they don't know how to cooperate. Wait here and stay hidden, and when you see them move, count to thirty and run for it."

"Me? No, I can't leave you here—"

"Count to thirty and run for it." Blinking one eye at a time as not to lose sight of the beasts, she slowly backed away through the bushes, circling away from her companion. They were so still, but she knew they could be after her and firing in an instant.

For a moment, she regretted her decision, wishing she could have the chance to escape, but however strong his magic, the young man wouldn't last a day without her guidance. He would bring help, or she would eventually die here, blackened and shriveled like the others.

The slow creep around the edge of the meadow took nearly an hour, for even the slightest mistake would bring the two beasts down on her before she was ready to flee. The anticipation was torture, but she couldn't afford to fail here. Whether her companion escaped or not, they would surely never leave an opening like this again. For so long, she had searched for a part of the boundary not blocked by a precipice or a guard wall, and she wasn't sure if she would ever find another.

It was time. Time to bring death down on herself, and to pray that the man really was who he claimed. Taking several deep breaths and readying herself, she slowly reached up and took hold of a leafy branch. A couple of the needle-thin thorns bit into her skin, but that was easily ignored.

All he needed was a diversion, and she would supply it. Even if she didn't live to be rescued, maybe he would grant her some measure of vengeance. She shook the branch and started to run as the first two particle beams sliced through the tree trunk.

Thirty...

Twenty-nine...

Twenty-eight...

* * *

"Yes, one robot, and it nearly killed me, Sire."

"And are you sure it was of Telthan origin?"

Xentor frowned, silently cursing the slowness of these old men. His father, along with Relvar and Xenlic, gazed at him like vultures inspecting their prey. Granted, that Taksal would send some kind of robotic assassin to Earth seemed a bit nonsensical, but what right did they have to doubt his word?

"Yes, Sire. It was clearly patterned after the Telthan body type, as I've said twice already. It had some way of blocking my magic, and only the Telthans are known to have that capability. The green-skinned woman, Cyari, is an associate of Emperor Taksal, and I caught a glimpse of her watching the battle. What else could it be?"

A few moments passed in silence, leaving the question unanswered, before Relvar spoke. "You also mentioned that you approached it while invisible, yet it could still fire accurately at you."

"Yes, Mentor."

The aged ArchSorcerer turned to the others, a thoughtful expression on his face. "A machine designed to hunt down and kill Guardians."

Lord Xen nodded, but before he could speak, the double doors swung open and two men stepped slowly into the throne room.

"My Lord," Treloc announced, "Akto has returned to us."

The young man, barely able to stand without Treloc's support, looked nothing like the apprentice Xentor had seen over a year ago, before he was captured during a failed raid on the Telthan home world. His skin was covered in cuts and bruises, and he had the gaze of one who had been face to face with death.

Lord Xen stepped down from the throne to meet them, sparing only a few words to Xentor as he walked past. "Fetch your sister."

"But Sire—"

"Now, Xentor."

The Prince stormed out of the room, annoyed at being pushed aside, furious at being doubted and ignored so often, and endlessly frustrated by his seeming impotence. Already one of the most powerful of the mighty Xen Guardians, themselves the strongest mages in the entire Frame, and he was delegated to running errands and standing around idly while old men talked.

The Telthans tore out his heart, and two years later they still hadn't been brought to justice. His newborn niece was kidnapped, and he could do nothing to save her. Guardians were captured by the enemy, yet his father postponed the rescue plans so long that one of them had to escape on his own. A Telthan machine attacked Serpentooth and nearly killed Xentor himself, yet the old men practically called him a liar. Perhaps it was time to take matters into his own hands, and personally—

His stream of thought was abruptly stopped as he overheard the freed apprentice's last words before the double doors closed.

"...machines with five legs... three arms... And there was a girl..."

* * *

The black, vacant eyes of the dead guardsmen stared up at Rotai, nearly frightening the assassin despite his long years of experience. Six other bodies lay nearby, lined up side-by-side while the villagers dug graves.

"It killed them from the inside out," Anya muttered, "like nothing I've seen before. There's nothing left to heal."

Rotai wrapped an arm around her, trying to comfort the beautiful bard in the presence of so much death. His gray cloak fluttered in the breeze, but he still kept the other hand on one of his daggers, just in case. Not since the war had this many graves been dug at once, and he had a hunch that they wouldn't be the last.

"He was so brave to face a monster that could do this." Despite her sympathy for the fallen, she was still thinking of Xentor, even more smitten than before.

"The wizard was just showing off, Anya. He could have blasted the thing from a mile away." Couldn't he? His power had seemed unmatched before, but maybe this monster had some defense against him. "Besides, it only came here because of him."

"You don't know that."

"You've heard his stories of bug-eyed monsters. That creature he always talks about, Taksal. Five legs and three arms, right? This thing was sent by Xentor's enemies to kill him, and the rest of us are just unlucky bystanders." Rotai tried to keep his voice calm, but a hint of anger still showed. So what if the great wizard slew the beast? If it wasn't for the wizard, the beast never would have come. If it wasn't for the wizard, maybe Anya would be his.

"He saved us, Rotai. Nothing else matters."

The assassin turned her to face him, meeting her love-struck gaze with a concerned stare. "Anya, the man invites trouble, and anyone who gets too close to him will end up just like these men. You should keep your distance." His calm demeanor cracked slightly. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

She smiled, touched by his concern, but shook her head. "Nothing will happen to me. You saw how suddenly he left. By now he's probably leading an army against whoever sent this. He'll keep us safe." She gently pulled away, heading back to the tavern.

Rotai sighed, watching her leave. Love had dulled her senses, and he would have to watch over her, just as before.

* * *

A tornado drifted north through the plains, passing lazily between two small villages without touching either. The local mages were protecting their towns, but Xentor stood idly in his bedroom when he should be protecting his world.

Venting his frustration, he drew his Blade Staff and started practicing the stances and maneuvers that had been drilled into his mind over the years. The sharp edge of the staff sliced through the air mere inches above and around the furniture, but it didn't really matter. Metal and wood could be repaired or replaced, but life only came once.

Lenalta, his only love, was gone, struck down by warships. Trellia, his niece, was gone, kidnapped before she could open her infant eyes. His friends in Serpentooth were nearly killed by a Telthan assassin. Who was next to die? Who else would suffer while he sat here and did nothing?

The spinning weapon stopped short as the door swung open. With a metallic sound, the six-foot staff retracted to a six-inch cylinder, and he stared daggers at the old man who entered.

"I suppose you have some questions, my apprentice."

Xentor managed to hold back his temper, but his voice was still tight. "Yes, Mentor. Why was my word questioned?"

Relvar gave a slight nod, clearly expecting that. "You are still young, and—"

"Young? I am nearly a hundred fifty years—"

"As I said, you are still young. You must learn to be patient, and to understand that information must be proven before it can be trusted."

Xentor returned his weapon to its belt clip, and turned back toward the window. "You doubt me, but I suppose you took Akto's report to be true."

The old man smiled, nearly chuckling. "The boy may have great potential, but you have no reason to be jealous of him yet. His information was weighed as much as yours, but two independent reports of the same facts does lend some credence. As to the rest of his words, do you think we have spent the afternoon chatting about the weather?"

A faint flash of red light came from the next village in the path of the tornado, and more powerful magic stirred the clouds and struck the cyclone, dissipating the winds and returning the air to calmness. "Then what have you learned?"

"The machine is known simply as a Hunter, and it is still being tested by the Telthans as they prepare to use others like it against us. Akto, and several others we thought killed in battle, were being held at a hidden facility in Telthan territory."

A chance for revenge! Xentor turned, steeling his expression and forcing himself to remain calm. "Then I suppose you'll be leading an assault. I wish to join you."

Relvar smiled, holding the silence for a few long moments. "No, I'm afraid not." He paused again, seeming to enjoy the anger building up on the prince's face. "I have other matters to attend to. You will lead the assault. Now, here are the facts..."

* * *

The girl crept quietly between the boulders, careful to make no sound on the rough gravel as not to alert the beast. She prayed that it had not seen her, and that others had not joined the pursuit. She prayed that the young man had reached the boundary without being cut down by one of those yellow beams. She prayed that rescue would come.

For days after the escape, she had run day and night to escape the two beasts, resting only when her knees threatened to buckle, or when the danger of starvation seemed all too real. It was another week before she finally felt safe enough to set up camp and rest for a while. A small cave on the eastern slope of the mountain had provided her with shelter for a time, and she had lived off the land and eaten well enough for nearly a month before the beasts found her again.

This time, it was not so easy to evade them. Clearly their masters had made improvements, for they had learned to work in groups of two or three, and to track by sound as well as sight. She had taken to hiding near running water, as they seemed unable to differentiate between that and the sound of footsteps. Two more weeks had been spent in a small shelter formed of branches and leaves, and three more were shared with flocks of birds by weaving a hammock out of vines and sleeping among the branches of tall trees. Sooner or later, though, the beasts always came again.

Through a crack in the stone wall, she caught a glimpse of the beast, statue-like as it monitored the area. A little further, and the noise of the stream would obscure her footsteps, and the forest would provide cover. She was alone again, so that would be enough for her to flee.

That was when she heard it. With the sound of crunching rock, a second beast landed a short distance ahead of her, blocking her escape route. Thankfully, it hadn't seen her, or she would already be dead. She carefully examined the terrain around her, seeing one remaining path that would keep her hidden from both beasts. It was risky, and would be difficult to navigate silently, but she no longer had a choice.

She took one step, then another, placing each toe with care, to avoid making the slightest noise. What was that smell? Another step, and another, the minutes passing in utter silence. Her vision was starting to blur, and she struggled to keep her focus. One slip, and the beasts would be on her in moments. She edged slowly down the hill toward the forest, tiny pebbles rolling ahead of her as her now-clumsy footsteps dislodged them. Had the beasts heard her? Could she risk another glimpse? What was that horrible smell?

Her vision started to narrow, and she finally realized the source of the smell. Sleep gas. She felt her consciousness slipping, and concentrated fiercely on her feet. It wasn't enough.

Her foot slipped, and she slid noisily down the slope, barely ahead of the first two particle beams. A dull thud came in the distance, and something felt different, but all she saw now was the silhouette of the beast leaping through the air. Reality seemed to move in slow-motion as it landed on a boulder about twenty yards away and pointed an arm at her. She shut her eyes, knowing she was about to die.

She didn't know what one of those yellow beams would feel like, but this wasn't what she expected. It sounded like a crash of thunder, and felt like something cutting into her cheek. The air smelt dusty, and there was a slight breeze now.

Seconds passed, but still she breathed.

Confused, she slowly wedged an eye open, her vision still blurred. She looked toward the beast, but it was gone. There was a dip in the terrain, like the edge of a crater, and a large rock sat there, easily five times as tall as her.

A voice came from behind her, distorted to her hearing, but female.

"Find the prince, and tell him this quadrant is clear, and that we've found another survivor."

Blackness came.

* * *

The assault was swift and deadly. Three months of planning and preparation had led to a flawless operation. Only minutes after the sleep gas was deployed and the first meteor took out the inhibitor field, all eight machines had been destroyed. The enemy hadn't been expecting an assault from the air, or he was sure the Hunters would have cut the rocks out of the sky and avoided destruction.

Xentor descended to the ground, looking over the unconscious prison guards, each with the familiar scar at the back of their neck. It reminded him of the implant they had tried to use on him, that had been so painful to remove.

"My Lord, we recovered almost two hundred prisoners from the holding cells, and ten from the surrounding area. It looks like they just cut them loose and sent the Hunters after them for target practice."

The gray-haired ArchMage stood a foot from the ground, his red cloak rippling in the wind as he awaited a reply. Nineteen of the strongest Guardians had followed Xentor here, and so far only one had even been wounded.

"Keep searching the forests and grasslands. Those are the best places to hide. We have to save all we can and get out before the Telthans can react."

"As you command, My Lord." The man flew off to pass on the orders, and Xentor watched in silence. The roof of the prison barracks was solid beneath his feet, but he knew very well how close they had come to destroying it when they attacked the inhibitor. It was simple enough to find the center of the field, where the magic was being repelled, but dropping rocks from the sky wasn't exactly the most accurate means of attack.

"Lord Xentor," a young woman called as she floated down to the rooftop and held her yellow cloak tightly around her. "We found three more survivors, but Belryn says there are Telthan warships coming."

Xentor sighed, but acknowledged with a nod. "We won't have time to evacuate to the ship. Tell him to leave, and have everyone start forming portals. We'll bring the prisoners out ourselves."

"But Lord Xentor, there isn't enough magic here for portals. If we hurry—"

"There is enough, if you're careful. If it's too hard for you, bring everyone here, and I'll do it myself."

The mild insult had the desired effect, and the woman visibly hardened. "We'll manage," was all she said as she leapt back into the air. She would be a bit sore at him, but she would do the job and get everyone out safely.

Turning toward the nearest group of Guardians and floating off the rooftop, Xentor began to follow his own advice, steadily drawing in magic so he could form his own portal. It was sparse here, but that only meant it took longer, not that it was impossible. He glanced up in time to see a white streak in the sky that had to be Belryn escaping. The Institute was making remarkable progress on their space port, but it would be a few more weeks before they were ready to launch their first ship. Fortunately, Xen had other allies, and for the right price, the Myconians had let Xentor borrow one of their smaller transport ships for this mission.

Portals begin to spring open as the prisoners were evacuated to a small moon on the far side of this Dimension. Going straight to Xen wasn't an option, since twenty Guardians couldn't carry two hundred people through Trans-D space. Levitating them through a spatial portal was a simpler matter, since that was merely a doorway from one point to another.

"We'll have them through in just a few minutes, milord," One of the younger mages called. Xentor nodded, forming his own portal beside the others and helping to send the unconscious men and women through to relative safety.

Minutes passed, and points of light appeared in the sky as the enemy warships arrived. Time was nearly up, but the job was nearly done.

Xentor held his portal open a bit longer, hurling a ball of blue flame into the sky as he stepped back toward the building. The rest of the Guardians should have been gone by now, but that would signal the final evacuation.

A few quick button presses, and the device on the ground started to beep rhythmically. The Myconians had provided one other bit of assistance, but this one would not be returned. He stepped through the portal, closing it behind him just as the bomb exploded.

* * *

A half-hour later, Belryn landed the Myconian transport on the small moon, and the Guardians began loading the survivors into the passenger bay. Xentor stood aside and supervised, knowing his assistance was no longer needed. It was about then that his heart skipped a beat.

"Wait! Bring her here!" He gestured frantically to a young ArchMage, running over to him as he tried to levitate a beautiful young woman to the ship.

The man gave Xentor a confused look, but shrugged and lowered the unconscious woman gently to the ground before moving to the next in line.

The prince knelt down beside the woman, gazing into her eyes. She was dirty and bruised, with a gash in her left cheek, but she was alive. Could it really be her? Had she survived all this time? Had she spent almost two years as a prisoner while Xentor merely went on with his life and his studies? Before he even finished the thought, he was opening a portal and lifting her in his arms.

"My Lord?" The other Guardians were looking askance at him, but he no longer cared.

"Get them in the ship and bring them back to Xen. I'll take care of this one." Without another word, he stepped into Trans-D space.

## * * *

"I still don't see why you brought her here. This has nothing to do with us!"

"There's your reason. I don't want her involved in this war either, and too many people will recognize her if I take her back to Xen."

Xentor glanced over at the wooden door again, as if looking through it to see the two women inside. He sat with Rotai in the upstairs hallway of the Crescent Moon Tavern, nearly deserted this time of morning. The assassin sat in the chair beside Anya's door like a faithful watchdog, and the Guardian slumped against the opposite wall, waiting impatiently.

"Well who is she? No, don't pretend that she's just some random woman you found in a prison cell. You know her, and I think I deserve to know who she is. The sister you mentioned? No? An old friend? Maybe some illegitimate daughter." Rotai was letting his anger show, and any of his associates could have said with certainty that when the assassin got angry, it was time to be elsewhere. Even Xentor was a bit wary, his hand a bit closer to his Blade Staff than usual, ready to draw it if necessary.

"I have no daughter." His voice was weak. He was still in shock after seeing her again after all this time. He was afraid to even speak her name, lest she be taken from him again.

"Well then who is it, wizard? You already endanger us just by being here, making us a target for that monster, and now you hide your allies behind us? We aren't pawns to be used in your stupid war! Now who is she?"

"Lenalta."

The word silenced both of them. Xentor closed his eyes for a moment, silently hoping that he hadn't doomed her again. A childish superstition, but even the chance of losing her a second time was more than he could bear.

Rotai just stared at him, his anger vanishing. He remembered the seemingly-ridiculous story given nineteen months ago. A story wild enough to make a man risk death for a foolish hope of revenge. When Xentor looked again, he thought he almost saw a smile on the other man's face, but it was quickly hidden.

"You said she was dead."

Even the mention of death made him wince as he started to stare at the door again. "I was wrong."

"You'll have to tell Anya."

Xentor started to nod, but stood up quickly as the door opened. Anya had blood stains on her dress, but a warm expression on her face.

"Relax. Your friend is fine. Just some bumps and scratches, and I healed most of them. She just needs rest. She looks like she hasn't slept in days."

The young prince let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, and actually smiled slightly, ignoring the expectant glare from Rotai.

Anya smiled herself, glad to see him with anything but a frown. "It was brave of you to rescue her." She hesitated, clearly wanting to say more, but then she noticed he was looking past her, into the room. A brief sigh, and she stepped aside to let him enter.

The red cloak brushed the floor as he knelt beside the bed, leaning down to speak softly to the strange girl, and Anya slowly closed the door on them, turning to Rotai for some answers.

* * *

"My Lord, we can't take them home. Most of them don't even have a name for their planet, and the rest are worlds the Telthans already razed. We may as well find new homes for them here."

Treloc sighed and nodded. "Do so. I don't envy these people, but we can't just drop them on a random world after all they've been through. Find them decent homes in the northern villages."

"My Lord, there's... one more thing." The old man hesitated, unsure of how much he should say. "There was one other survivor. Prince Xentor took her away."

"What? That doesn't sound like Xentor. Was she badly hurt?"

"I... I don't think so, but I... I recognized her, milord. I know she was supposed to be dead, but I used to see her around the palace with him. I don't know where he took her, but—"

Treloc sighed, holding up a hand to cut him off. "I know where."

* * *

"You should have been the one to tell her," Rotai mumbled as Xentor slipped quietly out of the room. He sat alone in the hallway, a troubled expression on his face.

"Where is she?"

"You broke her heart, wizard. Are you satisfied?" The assassin stood and followed Xentor down the hallway. Granted, he was angry at the man for hurting Anya, but it still meant that she was once again available, if she ever cared to notice the one who was always at her side.

"I never asked Anya to fall in love with me, Rotai." He hesitated, looking back at the door. "Maybe I should stay here—"

"No one will bother your woman, Xentor. You know my reputation here."

The two of them stepped lightly down the stairs to the common room, glancing almost simultaneously at the empty stage before heading to the table in the corner, which no one else dared use.

Even as they sat down, voices came from the next table, where only the backs of two plainly-clothed men were visible. "Now I asked myself where my brother would run off to after finding Lenalta alive and well."

Xentor looked at the man's back for a moment, his eyes flickering red, then sighed and conjured a glass of dark-red liquid for himself. "Marrying my sister does not make you my brother, Treloc."

Rotai raised an eyebrow as the two men stood and moved to the corner table. Both were dressed like simple villagers, but there was a certain demeanor around someone used to giving orders, and it was fairly obvious that these two didn't belong.

"I think you'll find that it does." Treloc looked down at the glass, shaking his head sadly. "Are you still drinking that filth?"

"Indeed. Rotai, this is my sister's husband, ArchMage Prince Treloc of Xen," he said in hushed tones. "And this is Head Researcher Caltoren of the Xen Institute, whom I honestly never expected to see here." He spared a glance for the old man, a bit wary of anything that would drag the scientist away from his studies.

The assassin chuckled, not at all intimidated by the long titles. He had killed men with longer ones. "ArchMage? So does that make you stronger than Xentor here? I suppose it doesn't make much of a difference to us small folk, but it sounds like a lofty title."

Treloc didn't seem very offended, but perhaps amused. "It isn't as high as the rank of Sorcerer, in our system, but I'm sure I could present Prince Xentor quite a challenge. So by what title are you known, Rotai?"

"A simple tradesman has no need of titles. Now why don't you both go see the girl, before one of these farmers gets drunk enough to pick a fight with you? Up the stairs, third door on the left."

Caltoren frowned, clearly not about to tolerate that sort of attitude, but Treloc smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. "Come, let's give my brother and his quite brazen friend some time to chat." The two visitors stood, turning toward the stairs and exchanging a shrug.

Pausing to take a sip of his drink, Xentor spoke with a soft, calm tone. "If you do anything to harm her, I'll make you beg for death."

The words stopped them in their tracks, and several patrons stopped pretending to ignore them and glanced toward the red-cloaked Guardian. A figure on the far side of the room, face shadowed by a hooded cloak, smiled for a moment before watching the two men walk up the stairs.

* * *

The boy carefully picked his way through the dense bushes, testing the footing with his walking stick and making sure not to break any branches. The river was just over the next hill, and it was a perfect day for a swim.

The bright sun shone down on him as he ran across the small meadow to the shore, tossing his bright-blue coat aside and stripping down to his smallclothes before diving into the chilly water.

Three gray wolves quietly emerged from the underbrush, watching the child as one would watch a turkey leg cooking over a fire. They cocked their head sideways as the boy saw them, and suddenly disappeared. Unsure how their prey had eluded them, they looked to the pieces of cloth scattered on the grass, tearing it apart to find any treasures hidden within.

The boy sighed as the funny-looking dogs ripped up his clothes. He knew there was another name for them, but couldn't remember it from his lessons. They looked like they were supposed to be dangerous, but as his mother always told him, "If you're ever afraid, just disappear." He had never been able to do that before, but after the family vacation to the desert, his father told him that he was old enough to do things that little boys couldn't.

Anyway, the clothes weren't that important. It would have been more comfortable with them, but the air was warm and the sun was shining brightly, so he would be able to walk home in his smallclothes. His mother would make new clothes for him. After all, his eighth birthday was tomorrow.

He wondered if his parents would finally take him somewhere to meet other people. He was sure there was someone else here, maybe on the other side of the forest, but he wasn't allowed to wander that far. His father had taught him that there were many different kinds of people, but he had never seen any except in picture books.

A couple hours had passed while he swam in the river and pondered these things, and he had to be home for dinner. He waded to the shore, picking up his walking stick and reappearing so the sun could dry his skin. Besides, it was harder to pick your way through the bushes when you couldn't see your own feet, and it would be wrong to harm the plants. Plants were living things, and he wouldn't dream of hurting them.

After all, who would want to hurt another living thing?

* * *

Anya's backhand slap caught Xentor by surprise, and he put a hand to his reddening cheek.

"You should have told me! You had no right to string me along like that!"

Several of the patrons chuckled, probably tired of seeing the wizard walking around like he was untouchable. Even Rotai couldn't help but smile, though he quickly hid it before she noticed. Xentor watched silently as she stomped away, sighing and muttering something under his breath.

"That was well-deserved." The smirk returned once the bard passed out of view, and Rotai drank his ale contently.

"Perhaps." The Guardian returned to his seat and sipped his drink, sighing as he waited for Treloc and Caltoren to finish questioning Lenalta. "Perhaps I should begin spending my time elsewhere."

"She'll forgive you eventually, I suppose. They usually do."

"Anya's isn't the forgiveness that worries me."

"Lenalta? Look, wizard, you didn't know she was alive. She can hardly blame you."

Xentor shook his head, looking down at his drink. "She doesn't, but I should have known."

Rotai looked at the man in a new light, for once seeing beneath that rock-hard façade of power and rage. "Even mages aren't omniscient, Xentor. Only the gods can claim that much power."

Something brought a laugh from the cloaked sorcerer, though Rotai didn't understand it. He was about to inquire, but was interrupted as the two old men returned to the common room.

"Brother, we must return home at once." Caltoren remained silent, letting Treloc do the speaking among the lesser races. For all his knowledge and skill, he was quite inept at blending into this primitive society.

Xentor nodded, staring at his half-empty glass. "You do not need my permission, Treloc."

"We, brother. All three of us. Your father will want to hear about the mission, among other things."

"I will stay with her. Does she sleep now?"

"She sleeps peacefully, and can do so without you for a time. Come."

The sound of breaking glass silenced the room, and the patrons turned to see blood and wine oozing between Xentor's fingers.

Treloc frowned and barely kept his voice calm, the immature display sickening him. "Do not be a child, Xentor. You have responsibilities, just as I do, and you will return with us if I have to bring the other Guardians to tie you up and drag you through the portal."

Moments of silence passed, and it seemed like weapons would be drawn before this ended. Rotai's relaxed voice instantly doused the situation. "I'll keep an eye on her, wizard. She'll be waiting when you get back."

The two Guardians looked at Rotai, then exchanged an embarrassed look with each other before quietly stepping outside. The figure in the shadowy cloak watched them leave, rising a few moments later to follow them outside.

* * *

"The woman reported that the Hunters have been upgraded in recent months. They now track by sight, sound, and heat, and cooperate effectively in pairs or threes."

"Yes," Treloc interrupted, "but she mentioned that their ears, or the equivalent, can't distinguish sounds, so I think we can discount that ability unless operating in complete silence."

Caltoren paused a moment, then nodded and continued. "They move in an awkward, five-legged gait, and cannot cover ground quickly except by leaping short distances by crouching and thrusting downward with all five said appendages."

"Head Researcher," one of the older men began, "Do we know why the robots would be designed so poorly?"

The other gathered members muttered agreement, seated on tiered benches around the open floor in the council chamber of the Xen Institute. Lord Xen watched from one of the high benches, while Caltoren stood in the center with his apprentice and the two Guardian princes.

"We can only presume," Caltoren replied, "that the method of locomotion, and likely the form itself, is patterned after that of the creators, the Telthans. Few have actually seen more than their enslaved subjects, but I have confirmed with the Guardians that the form matches. This lack of creativity can tell us more of the Telthans themselves, but that is a topic for another meeting."

"If I may, Sir?" Belryn waited for his master's nod before continuing. "I spent the weeks before the assault studying their weaponry, and, well, it makes up for their slowness. The beam itself is little more than a particle emitter, though a bit more advanced than anything we've created so far, but there's something mixed into the stream that I couldn't identify. When the beam strikes living tissue, it spreads some kind of radiation or viral infection with the visible results of crystallizing bodily fluids and blackening the skin." He turned to his master, smiling proudly as an approving nod was given.

"Very good, Belryn. Now, we also know they were designed specifically to face our friends, the Guardians. They possess what the Telthans call an inhibitor field, which repels the radiation our friends call 'magic.' Some of us also theorize that they are able to detect certain frequencies of this radiation, namely the ones used by the Guardians, and use it to pinpoint them."

Xentor, waiting silently beside Prince Treloc, became lost in thought. Certain frequencies of magic? He didn't know what that really meant, but was Caltoren saying that there were other kinds of magic, and that the Guardians only used one type? If so, what were the other types? Perhaps the deities used a different one, and maybe the lesser races had their own, but what others could there be?

"Prince Xentor?" The sound of his name knocked him back into reality, and he glanced around, seeing that he was the focus of attention.

"I'm sorry, what was the question?"

Treloc groaned, and even Lord Xen gave a slight frown from the back of the audience, but Caltoren went on as if this was routine and expected.

"Would you please explain how you approached the monster outside the town of Serpentooth on Earth?"

"I hid myself from sight and formed an energy shield to protect myself from the beams."

The gallery was silent for a few moments, as if they expected more. Finally, a man on the second bench spoke. "You hid yourself? Behind a structure?"

"I became invisible."

Murmurs broke out among the audience members, and Xentor nearly laughed out loud when he realized the cause. These people didn't believe in magic! Before they could ask another stupid question, he decided to simply demonstrate.

"Observe." He made a sweeping gesture, tracing an arc over his head with one hand as he formed an energy shield. The gesture itself was meaningless, but the theatrics made more of an impression on the scientists. Indeed, the gallery had gone totally silent as every eye was focused on what they believed was a fairy tale.

"I became..." He snapped his fingers, and faded from sight. "Invisible."

* * *

Rotai clung to the shadows, nearly invisible as he trailed the hooded figure from the tavern. The moon was a thin crescent, providing little light for spying eyes, but the assassin had no trouble once he adjusted to the darkness.

The figure walked lazily along the main road through town, finally turning into a dark alley between the weavers' shop and one of the guard barracks, and Rotai peeked carefully around the corner in time to see it.

A vertical yellow line appeared in the air, and then split in two as it stretched into a rectangle, like a doorway. The interior was blackness, and the doorway itself cast only a faint glow to the wooden walls of the buildings. The figure stood with his back to Rotai, waiting calmly as one of the metal monsters emerged from the blackness and stood before him.

"The mission is to locate and eliminate a target," the figure spoke softly. "The target is a humanoid female located on the second level of the building. The building is marked with a sign showing a crescent. Complete the mission and self-destruct. Collateral damage is acceptable. Wait in defensive mode for five minutes, then begin."

Rotai frowned, ducking into the shadows and watching the figure emerge from the alley and hurry toward the eastern road. He recognized Cyari's voice, but there was no time to kill her if he was going to stop that monster. His steel wouldn't be enough, but maybe with some magical help...

* * *

"A monster is approaching! Everyone return to your homes!" The common room went silent in an instant, partly because of the message itself, and partly because no one expected a warning like this to come from the assassin. Fortunately, no one had known him to lie or exaggerate either, so the exodus was prompt. The bard watched him from the stage, fear in her eyes and her hands still on her harp.

"Anya, fetch Lenalta and meet me outside. Quickly!" Fear and doubt intermingled in her expression, but she hesitated only a moment before running to the stairs.

Rotai stepped out of the tavern and watched the road, waiting for the monster to come around the bend. Clearly it was literal-minded, and would come to the tavern before beginning its slaughter. That was all the time he needed.

* * *

The beast walked slowly over the flat rocks, inspecting each structure as it searched for a crescent shape. It saw targets standing in windows, but it was on a mission. None of them presented a threat, so they would be ignored until the objective was located. If the mission could not be completed, it would fall back to its default programming and eliminate all targets.

* * *

The two women rushed outside to meet Rotai. Fully-healed and wearing some of Anya's spare clothes, Lenalta was absolutely stunning, nearly as beautiful as the bard herself.

"Where is it?" The strange woman almost seemed eager to meet it, as if ready to settle some unfinished business.

"Coming from the east and headed straight here. Can you destroy it with magic?"

"I'm no Guardian, but I have some small ability." Lenalta looked to the east, her nerve cracking. "Perhaps we should flee. I may be able to open a portal, given some time."

"We don't have time. If you can't destroy it, then distract it." Rotai glanced around quickly, then ran to the nearest alley, disappearing from view.

"Distract it? Does he mean to run up there and stab it? You said this man was a warrior! Where is Xentor? He may be able to defeat it."

Anya sighed, watching Rotai leave. She wasn't happy to even have to talk to the one who stole Xentor's heart, but love would mean nothing if they died tonight. "He and his friends left over an hour ago. We must give Rotai his distraction. What can we do?"

Lenalta frowned, clearing her thoughts. "Sight, sound, and heat. It can see us, hear us, and track our body heat."

"It will not hear Rotai." Her confidence was amusing, if perhaps unwarranted. Still, there was no time to argue.

"Very well, then. We can't do anything about body heat, but maybe there are enough people in the houses that it won't matter. That leaves sight."

Anya pondered for a moment, and then shook her head. "I don't suppose throwing sand in its eye will work."

"I'm afraid not. But you might have something there. I spent some time hiding in caves, and I remember they always hesitated a few seconds when they chased me back into sunlight. Maybe we can blind it."

* * *

The beast looked to the right, and saw a piece of wood hanging from a stick, painted with a crescent shape. The objective was located inside this building. Several humanoid targets were standing nearby and watching, but the mission parameters were clear. In a microsecond, the beast considered its options. It could enter the structure, which yielded an unacceptable chance that the target would leave by another route. It could wait for the target to emerge, but that yielded an even greater chance of the same unsatisfactory result. The remaining option was to destroy the structure, and this seemed the logical choice.

The beast took six steps away from the building, clearing itself of what would soon be a debris field, and took aim at the most likely structural supports with all three particle emitters. It was about to fire, but suddenly a bright light flared from off to the left. It paused for a few seconds to recalibrate its visual sensors, when something struck it.

* * *

Rotai leaped silently from the low rooftop and crashed into the monster, knocking it to the ground and grabbing at the three arms, searching frantically for a vulnerable spot. Claws sprouted from two of the arms, and he squirmed from side to side to avoid the thrusts. As he threw his weight onto the arms to restrain them, he heard Anya's frightened yell coming from behind. Let her be scared. This had to be done.

It was only moments before he noticed someone else with him. Lenalta was beside him, clawing at the metal torso of the monster as if trying to rip its guts out. The amazing thing was that she was succeeding. She pulled off a flat piece of metal that was hiding a cavity, and took hold of what looked like a spider web of colored strings, trying to pull them out of the body.

Rotai lost his grip on the third arm, reaching for it again while being careful to keep his full weight on the first two. He caught a glimpse of Lenalta's helpless expression, and realized it was too late. A yellow beam flashed from the third arm, slicing into the woman's side, and the legs finally found purchase. The monster leapt into the air, flinging Rotai and Lenalta in opposite directions. He knew this was the end, and waited for the next beam to strike him.

As he slid to a stop on the rough street, he saw a red glow and the familiar silhouette of Xentor stepping out of one of his portals. The wizard, however, just stood there and watched the machine crash lifelessly to the ground. His gaze swept the scene, and he burst into a run, ignoring Rotai entirely.

When the assassin got to his feet, he saw Xentor cradling the woman in his arms as her skin slowly turned to black. Her hand still clutched dozens of those colored strings from the monster's stomach, ripped out when she was flung off.

"I never should have left you here... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." Tears streamed down the man's face, and Rotai wisely stayed silent. Anya moved beside him, her own eyes tearing a bit in sympathy.

"Courage, love. You did what you had to do, and so did I." The blackness had spread to her chest, and her voice was starting to fade.

"No... I can't lose you again... I can't... I... I should have been here to protect you..."

"Always... the Guardian... love..." Her eyes went cold.

"Always." So did his.

## * * *

Head Researcher Caltoren stood in the throne room of Castle Xen, the remains of the monster on the table beside him.

"So by emitting a strong enough compression wave of a specific frequency, we can create an acoustic resonance inside the inhibitor device itself, and destroy it."

Lord Xen smiled at the scientist, shaking his head and stepping around the table, inspecting the monster. "I consider myself a wise man, Caltoren, but I'm no scientist."

The smile was returned as the other man chose new words. "If we can create a loud enough sound at a certain pitch, it will destroy the robot's immunity to your magic."

The double doors opened just enough for a young woman to peek her head through. "Sire, another probe from the Telthans."

The aged ruler nodded to the messenger, gesturing for her to enter before speaking to Caltoren again. "How long until you can be ready?"

"One hour, perhaps two."

"Then hurry. The next battle will be here, and it will come soon. I'll see to it. Ellisitrian?"

"Yes, Sire," the messenger replied, bowing her head.

"Have someone take the Head Researcher to the Institute to gather his equipment."

Caltoren smiled. "That will make my journey much faster. Thank you."

After a few parting statements, Lord Xen was alone in his throne room, and it was only minutes before he had reached out to the Telthan probe.

"Ah, Emperor Taksal. Your assassin seems to have failed again. They certainly are easy to destroy."

* * *

The assault came sooner than expected.

Outside the walls of Castle Xen, vertical lines sprung out into portals, and hundreds of Hunter robots emerged to begin the siege. Guardians hurried to the walls, forming energy shields to block the particle beams and lifting rocks from the surrounding terrain to hurl in return.

"Where is my son? His strength is needed for the defense!" Lord Xen strolled quickly through the courtyard with Relvar, sparing a glance to the large device being assembled by Caltoren and three of his apprentices.

Xenlic stayed a pace behind the two old Guardians, eyes alert in case any monsters managed to break inside. "In his room, Sire. He hasn't left it or spoken a word since he returned."

"So our defenses are lessened because he feels the need to sulk."

"Yes, Sire."

Caltoren called out as they passed, his apprentices working frantically to attach strange objects to even stranger objects. "Lord Xen, we're nearly ready!"

A yellow beam slashed through the south wall, angled upward and cutting a hole in the roof of the palace itself. The Guardians on the walls were beginning to weaken, and soon the monsters would break through and kill them all.

Relvar spoke calmly, as if they were merely out for a pleasant stroll. "You can be sure he's monitoring, old friend. He'll pull them back as soon as we strike."

"I suppose you have a solution."

"Of course."

* * *

A deafening tone rolled out over the landscape, causing villagers in towns a mile away to pause in their tasks and gaze toward Castle Xen. The Guardians on the walls covered their ears, some losing their concentration and allowing particle beams to pierce their energy shields. Several fell to the attack, but the rest persevered.

Relvar and Lord Xen stood in the center of the courtyard, projecting their own shield over the entire area. It wasn't strong enough to impede a particle beam, but it would block any outside signal from reaching the Hunters. No retreat would be permitted.

The tone seemed to last for hours, but in reality, only ten seconds elapsed before the power cells expired and the device went dead.

It was enough.

The first of the Guardians noticed the clouds swirling around their enemies, no longer held at bay by the inhibitors, and the cry rang out on every wall. "Strike!"

The full wrath of the Xen Guardians was unleashed, and the flashes of destruction lit up the sky for miles around as pure death rained down on the robots. Fires came from the sky to burn them, and something even hotter poured down to melt them to ashes. Lightning struck from all sides, and unseen forces literally ripped them apart.

In less than a minute, the battlefield was silent, and the ground was littered with metallic corpses.

* * *

A lone pair of eyes still watched the battlefield as the Guardians cheered and congratulated themselves. Xentor stared from his bedroom window at the robot he had personally slain, blackening its metal skin before finally burning it from within.

He felt nothing.

No more sadness at losing Lenalta. No anger at the enemy that attacked her. No joy or satisfaction from this small revenge.

He would still find a way to destroy Taksal and everyone who followed him, but he no longer felt compelled by rage. He would do it because it had to be done, and he would wait as long as was necessary.

Lenalta was gone, and some part of him had gone with her.

# 

# Part V - Sentinel

Fifteen years, and his parents still wouldn't take him anywhere. He had traveled every inch of this forest, from the serpent-infested river to the impassable mountains. He knew every wolf by sight, and which of them were friendly. He couldn't get lost in these woods now, no matter how hard he tried.

"Father, I'm tired of this place! I want to see the world, and meet the people from the books!" Seeing his parents at all was a rare occasion now. Most of the time, they were off on some errand somewhere, and he still couldn't figure out where. They were both powerful wizards, and had a habit of disappearing when he wasn't paying attention.

"Patience, my son."

"I've been patient, father! I'll be fifteen soon, and I've never been out of this stupid forest!"

"What about our vacation—"

"Vacation? You took me to a desert to see a rock!" That statement struck more deeply than the boy had intended. His parents seemed to respect that rock a great deal, though he could not find any mention of it in the books. A few long moments passed in silence before his father spoke again.

"Very well. To celebrate the end of your fifteenth year, we will show you the outside world."

The boy sighed, realizing that though he would get his wish, it was almost a quarter-year away. He took the basket of food his mother had prepared, and headed back out into the forest.

* * *

"Slow and steady, lads!" The blacksmith guided the oxen while the other men moved rollers to help bring the immense object toward the town. It had been sitting in its hidden cove for some time now as the craftsmen worked on it, and the day had come to deliver it to its place of honor.

"Master, the path is clear all the way to the square. I scouted it twice."

"Well done, Niven. Let the magician know we're on our way, and start spreading the word. Quietly, mind you."

The young man nodded and ran off, his eyes scanning back and forth, checking the path as he followed it, and Davril couldn't help but smile. The boy was his most skilled and dedicated apprentice, and would make a fine blacksmith one day.

* * *

Niven hurried into town, rechecking the empty square before going to the magic shop. He waited, however, with one hand on the door, when he heard voices within.

"Power, magician. More power than you can imagine, and all you must do is swear loyalty to the great Emperor Taksal."

"You dare to come into my town and demand oaths from me, woman? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't turn you into a rodent and send some of the village boys after you with sticks."

"You are a fool, Mallus. My master can elevate you above all others. He can provide you with—"

"Enough. Get out."

Niven jumped back as the door opened, meeting the stare of a green-skinned woman in a hooded cloak and gloves. She gave a slight frown, but only paused a moment before walking past him and disappearing down a side street.

"Yes, Niven? What is it?" He hadn't realized he was watching the woman until the magician snapped him to awareness.

"Oh, yes. My Master wanted you to know that the men are on their way here."

"Good. Thank you." It was a polite dismissal, but a dismissal nonetheless. Mallus sat back in his chair, digging his nose into another of his old books, and Niven made a silent retreat, eager to see where the strange woman was going.

He checked several streets before catching a glimpse of the hooded cloak, a bit conspicuous on such a bright and sunny day. It wasn't until he followed her into the forest that she really surprised him.

"Master." She had lifted one arm, and was speaking to her left wrist, as if there was someone there to answer. Someone did.

"Report." A small illusion had appeared there, showing a creature Niven didn't recognize. He peered carefully from behind a large bush, but it must have been a trick of the light. It couldn't have that many arms and legs, could it?

"Ka'Loen has been unreceptive. Only a few have expressed interest in joining you."

"That is unfortunate." The voice was strange, almost inhuman. "Return to Serpentooth and establish additional influence there. Your new secondary objective is to destroy the Guardian if given the opportunity."

Guardian? What guardian? And what was this influence she was establishing? She was going all the way to Serpentooth to kill a guard? There were too many questions, and Niven wanted the answers.

He shook himself momentarily to clear his head, and looked again. Where did she go? Had his mind wandered off again? He turned to slip away, and found her standing right behind him, staring into his eyes.

"It's not polite to eavesdrop, boy."

* * *

"Enough of this foolishness, brother! You've hidden in this little room long enough, and it's time to get on with your life!"

"I'm not your brother, Treloc." Xentor's voice was cold, and he didn't even bother turning to face the man standing in his bedroom doorway. His gaze was focused on the map he had built as he tried to learn more from it.

"You are a Sorcerer of Xen. Yes, that's right. Relvar has decided you're ready to assume your final rank." The ArchMage paused, but got no reaction. "Do you even care?"

"It's just a word. I don't intend to stop learning just because my old mentor thinks I've done enough."

Treloc clenched his fists, tired of seeing Xentor sulking in his room. Even more frustrating was the complete indifference with which he shut everyone out.

"What do you expect to learn that you haven't already mastered? Do you still think you can win this war by yourself? Still think you can rain down destruction on Telthan Prime?"

"No." The word was a dismissal, but Treloc wasn't finished.

"No, of course not. You're probably still trying to do the impossible, aren't you? Trying to bring her back from the dead?"

"No." This time it was softer. Not a lie, but maybe some regret or frustration. Treloc stepped into the room, making his voice calm and soothing.

"She's dead, Xentor. Just let her go."

The man's head whipped around, the glow before him fading, and his face was a mask of rage. Something unseen wrapped around Treloc's wrists and lifted him off the floor. He slipped into his second vision and reached for the magic to free himself, but the clouds seemed to slide out of the way whenever his mind tried to touch them.

"Lenalta is dead because _I wasn't there!_ Who was it that pulled me away to play politics when I should have been protecting her!? Who was it, _brother_?" The word had such venom that Treloc couldn't help but wince.

"So now it's my fault? What are you going to do? Run me through with your staff? Have you really—" He stopped short, interrupted by the metallic whisk as Xentor extended his Blade Staff. Had he really lost his mind?

_"Enough!"_ The commanding voice caused both of them to turn toward the doorway. Treloc fell to the floor as the magic dissipated, and quickly picked himself up, bowing slightly to Lord Xen.

A few moments passed before another sound told Treloc that the Blade Staff behind him had been retracted. He breathed a faint sigh of relief, and realized that for the first time, he was actually terrified of what the other man might do.

"Leave, Xentor." The old man's words were cold and harsh, and Treloc heard a footstep. "No, not the room. Leave Xen. Clear your mind, and stop sulking in here."

"Sire, I was not—"

"Do not argue. The time for mourning has long passed. Come back when you've put this childish behavior behind you. Go."

* * *

Xentor stepped out of his portal and sat down in the grassy clearing, reaching out to the magic. He was not sulking! Treloc simply had no right to mention Lenalta in his presence. No right at all. If it wasn't for him, Xentor would have been there to defeat the Hunter, and she would still be alive.

But that wasn't what he had been doing in his room for the past two months. Well, perhaps the first week. After that, he had gone back to a thought that had piqued his curiosity ever since Caltoren's report to the Institute.

The scientists always referred to the Xen Magic as "radiation," though Xentor didn't understand why. During that speech, though, Caltoren had mentioned different types of radiation. Different types of magic. What if Xen Magic was only one type, and each race used a different one? The deities must use another, since Xentor had never been able to detect their magic. What about the Aeotians, if they truly existed? If that truly was an Aeotian that kidnapped his infant niece, Trellia, it might be the case. The magic used there had seemed a bit different, though everyone had assumed it was merely stronger.

The map appeared in response to his mental command, a visualization of the "currents" of Xen Magic. It was known that the magic flowed outward from the Pedestal, through all of the dimensions. If one knew how to properly see the clouds, the path could be charted to some degree. At least, that's what Xentor thought he was seeing. None of this was in Relvar's lessons, but he wasn't afraid to venture into unknown territory.

By adjusting his focus, in a way he couldn't really even describe to himself, he could see a sort of after-image of other magic clouds. It had taken a full month before he had stumbled upon that trick, and had spent many days looking through different clouds, trying to figure out which were which. He did that now, and his jaw dropped.

A momentary glimpse was all he had, before his concentration was shattered. A young man burst into the clearing, stopping short as his eyes met those of the Guardian. The woman who appeared a moment later, clearly pursuing the boy, was the last person Xentor expected to see.

"Cyari, I presume." He stood slowly, locking his eyes on those of the green-skinned woman. Who else could it be?

"You presume correctly, Guardian. It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you." Her mischievous smirk irritated him, but he held his temper.

The young man opened his eyes wide, looking between Cyari and Xentor, realizing something. "Lord Xentor, she's going to try to kill you!"

"Of course." That was no surprise, though he would have to ask the boy how he knew that.

"It's not too late to join us, Guardian. You know you can never defeat us, so why not join the winning side?"

"Tell your master that I would very much like to meet him again."

"You can tell him yourself, when you—"

"This conversation is over." As the green-skinned woman slowly took the hint and departed, he turned to the young man. He recognized Davril's apprentice right away. "Now what brings you out here, Niven?"

"Well, umm... Lord Xentor... I saw her talking to Mallus, and... Oh, but you must come into town. They're waiting—"

The young prince nodded, starting off in that direction with the apprentice blacksmith by his side. He walked silently as the boy began his story.

When the two of them reached the town square, the gathered crowed reminded him of the first time he had arrived here. Well, perhaps the second. A cheer arose as they saw him, and his gaze landed on a large, stone statue, laying on its side. Upright, it would probably be about twenty feet tall, and it was carved from a solid block of stone. More importantly, it seemed to be a likeness of... him.

"Lord Xentor," one of the councilmen began as the crowd went quiet, "Dragon-Slayer of Ka'Loen!" The cheer rose again, but was quickly hushed. "We present this statue, to honor a hundred years of peace in our city!"

As the people once again cheered, Xentor turned his gaze to the group of men gathered around the statue, probably trying to figure out how to lift it into place. It astonished him that they had managed to bring it into town at all, as was evident by the tracks their rollers had left. He decided to save them the trouble.

A few polite gestures parted the crowd, and he walked to the center of the square. Slipping into his second sight, he held out a hand and concentrated. A faint glow appeared on the ground, then spread slowly and rose into the shape of a cube, a bit taller than him. The glow brightened, then faded to reveal the block of stone he had created, the same type and shade as the statue itself. Rounded edges and unadorned sides made a simple platform that wouldn't distract from the art itself.

As the villagers stood in awe, he turned toward the statue and once again extended a hand. Everyone jumped back as the stone masterpiece lifted off the ground, floating slowly over their heads as it followed his gesture. With the utmost care, he set it down gently on the pedestal, and stepped back to admire it.

The statue was carved with intricate detail, though was perhaps a bit exaggerated. It showed Xentor in a long, flowing cloak, like the one he now wore, holding a hand up as if casting a spell. Perhaps they didn't remember that when he had made peace with the dragons, he could barely wield enough magic for the tiniest fireball, and that he hadn't received his cloak until many years later.

"I thank the good people of Ka'Loen. It is a true masterpiece." He nodded respectfully to the sculptor, who stood proudly by his work. "I look forward to another century of peace in this city."

The cheers rose up yet again, and the celebrations commenced. It wasn't until late in the evening that he managed to make a graceful and dignified exit, eager to find out what his map had truly revealed.

## * * *

The sun slipped its rays in between the leaves in the thick forest canopy, but the boy still pulled his blue coat around him, wondering how it suddenly got so cold. The strange hole in the air shrunk down to nothing, and he sat down to wait for his parents. They said they would follow after him, so he would wait right here until they arrived.

His father had promised to show him the outside world, but this was just another forest! He could hear small animals moving around nearby, and could feel a wolf watching him from the bushes on the right, but that didn't concern him much. When was he going to meet other people? Was the whole world just one big forest? Was his family the only people left anywhere?

A heavier footstep startled him, and he quickly vanished, looking around for the source of the sound. The wolf in the bushes cocked its head sideways, and two squirrels watching from a branch did likewise. Wait, were they really watching him? A bird on a higher branch seemed to be looking around for him, too.

"I can feel you, boy. What are you doing in my forest?" The boy whipped his head around to see a cloaked figure only five yards away. The face was in shadow, beneath a thick hood, and the hands were together in the wide sleeves. Perhaps it had no head or hands, and he was just assuming this was another person like him. He wished his parents were here, so he would know he was safe.

"I... I'm waiting..." He had read several books about how to speak properly, and how to converse in polite company, and how to greet people of various social statuses, but none of it had ever really mattered before. Now, when finally confronted by what might be another person, he had no idea what else to say.

"Waiting? Waiting for what?" The voice wasn't threatening, exactly. The figure seemed curious.

"My... parents are meeting me here." The figure turned left, then right, as if searching for others.

"Are they, now? How will they find you if they cannot see you?"

After a moment's consideration, the boy reappeared. He was still nervous, but no longer really afraid. Of course the person would never harm him. People didn't harm other living things. Only animals did that, and the wolf was now sitting quietly and watching.

"That's better. Now what is your name, young one?"

"I'm not young. I'm fifteen years old!" Clearly, this figure was old to consider him young. He was nearly an adult! Suddenly he realized he was relaxing, and could think clearly. Now, how did people introduce themselves to strangers? What was that phrase? "My name's Rikket." He made a slight bow, just as he'd seen described in the books. "And who might you be?"

"I am called Caab. I am the keeper of these forests."

"Why does a forest need a keeper?"

"To protect it from those people who would harm it."

"Harm it? That's ridiculous!" Why would any person harm a living plant? That was just not done. Was this place so uncivilized?

"Indeed." The figure, who called himself Caab, turned to leave. Why was he leaving? "If your parents do not arrive—"

"They will."

"Of course. But if they do not, you may be more comfortable among your own kind. The city of Serpentooth lays a day's walk southwest of here."

"Thank you." He looked around for a moment, marking the position of the sun. Back home, he could always tell which direction was which, but this was unfamiliar ground. He would have to see which way the sun moved, to determine which way was southwest, but his parents would arrive soon anyway. "It was good to make your acquaintance, Caab."

The figure hesitated a moment, then silently walked away, passing out of sight behind some thick growth. Rikket sighed, looking around at the animals and meeting their stares, then sat down on the leafy ground to wait for his parents.

* * *

"It was flowing in the opposite direction. I don't understand why I can't find it now."

"Perhaps the magic was just following your thoughts better than you realized. You wanted to find something unusual, so your mind showed you exactly that."

Xentor hesitated, his teacher's words planting a seed of doubt. Could he have imagined it? He had been looking for other types of magic, and had stumbled upon something that was moving exactly opposite the Xen Magic. The two even seemed to be affecting each others' flow. He had described it to the ArchSorcerer, but for some reason couldn't show it here.

"I did not imagine it, Relvar. It flowed opposite the Xen Magic, and seemed equal in all other respects."

"Then why does it not appear? Are you sure it was really there?" Something made Xentor turn from his conjured map to look at the old man. He wasn't questioning anything. He was testing.

"If I was imagining it," Xentor began slowly, "Then the image would have come from my own mind, and would be as easy to display here as it was there." He paused a moment, thinking it through. "If the flow was affected by the Xen Magic, perhaps the stronger magic here precludes it. I cannot display it here, because it does not exist here."

Relvar smiled proudly, nodding his agreement. "Very good, Xentor. I don't remember teaching you how to read the flows in this way, so it's good to see you haven't given up your studies now that you have reached your rank."

Xentor dissolved the illusory map and looked at his old teacher for a few moments. "You know something of this." It wasn't a question.

"One advantage to living to my age, young prince, is that you have a great deal of time to learn. Let me tell you a little story about the beginning. Legend has it that one time, the Frame was vacant, merely a hollow shell of nothingness. Then the Aeotians came, bringing their entire world here from some other place, of which we know nothing. They split the Frame into Dimensions, and created all of the universes within them, and the galaxies and worlds within those.

"From there, they created those we know as the major deities, though perhaps those deities are merely their children. They in turn created the minor deities, who set the seeds for the lesser races to grow and flourish.

"The races did, indeed, flourish. As we know, many began to advance themselves, to the point that some discovered how to travel to other Dimensions. Unfortunately, the nature of most sentient beings is to compete, sometimes violently. The Aeotians had no wish to become a police force for their descendants, so they created a new race to do the job for them."

"You mean they created us, mentor."

Relvar smiled, but didn't exactly nod. "Yes and no. The legends say that they created two more Dimensions, named Xen and Xyn—"

"Xyn? Is that—"

"Patience, Xentor. They created Xen and Xyn, each containing a single, rectangular world. There are many theories as to why our worlds were made so strangely and unnaturally, but no one has a true answer. Regardless, on each world they put powerful artifacts of magic and technology, so that whoever colonized those worlds would have the power to enforce order and peace."

"One world of magic, one of technology? But the Institute—"

"Shows us that our own world includes both halves, yes. If the legends speak true, there is a world called Xyn on the far side of the Frame, but we have never seen it. Our magic only stretches a little more than halfway across. Now, my apprentice, or perhaps former apprentice. What can you deduce?"

"I would not lose you as a teacher, mentor. We can deduce that... If our magic can only stretch halfway, perhaps they created two races of Guardians, each to protect half of the Frame." He hesitated for a moment, but caught Relvar's expression and went on before he could be corrected. "Or perhaps they thought too much power in one place was dangerous, and created a second race to balance against us. So the opposing current I saw was... Xyn Magic?"

The ArchSorcerer nodded his agreement and approval.

##

## * * *

"Nice night to be out for a walk, isn't it?"

Rikket hadn't noticed the man standing in the shadows as he entered what he presumed was Serpentooth. The sight of it was astounding, even in the middle of the night. There were buildings of wood and stone by the dozen, when he had never seen one other than his parents' cabin.

"Actually, I was hoping to find something to eat. I'm a little hungry." That was a lie. He wasn't just a little hungry. He had sat in the forest all day and night, waiting for his parents to arrive, and then spent all of today walking. He had passed many trees bearing fruit, but it wouldn't be right to harm one of them just so he could eat. He was starving.

"Is that so? Well, I'm sure we could find something for you, and you'll pay us back. Isn't that right, boys?" The man moved slowly from the shadows, holding a metal stick in one hand. Rikket heard footsteps behind him, and looked in time to see three more show up, holding sticks and knives.

Why did he suddenly feel scared? People didn't hurt other people. It just wasn't done. Maybe these were animals in disguise, but he had never known animals to talk in a language he could understand.

"I... I would appreciate that." He tried to be polite, but the feeling remained. He tried to watch them all at once, but they were all around him now, playing with their sticks and knives as if they planned to use them on something.

"Oh, I bet you would. Barok should like this one." The man made a quick hand gesture to one of the others, and Rikket turned to see a stick coming down on his head. Only a quick reaction enabled him to take the hit on the shoulder instead of the skull, that wasn't what scared him.

These men actually wanted to hurt him! It was a ridiculous idea, but there was no longer any doubt. He quickly disappeared, just as his parents had told him, and slipped away while the men tried to figure out what happened.

He crept invisibly along the street, clutching his shoulder where the stick had hit him. It hurt to move that arm, but he didn't think it was broken. He'd had his share of falls from trees and attacks by the meaner wolves, so he was no stranger to injury. This, however, was the first time he had ever seen violence from another person.

Was everyone here like that? Were they all going to try to hurt him? Why had his parents sent him here, and why didn't they follow like they promised? Most importantly, though, where could he find some food?

* * *

"I thought you had decided to avoid him, Anya."

"I did, but if I have his magic, I may as well learn how to use it." She sat at Rotai's table, using the clouds to push around a small silver coin in the center. The black stone necklace was warm against her chest, and the chain somehow pinched the back of her neck as she hummed to herself and concentrated on the coin.

"So you can stop him when he comes for us?"

"Don't be foolish, Rotai. I've seen some of his magic, and the things he does are so complex, I don't think I could do them if I had a lifetime to practice. Besides, he won't come after us." The coin slowly lifted up on its edge and started to spin.

"After me, then. Remember what he said after his woman was killed?"

"Rotai, that was two months ago."

"He said, 'You should not have brought her into this, Rotai.' Me. He blamed me."

"He was heartbroken. He would have blamed a rock if there was one close enough." The coin jumped up once, then again.

"Then why did you stay so far back until he had left, Anya?"

The coin fell, spinning to a stop. "Because I've seen what happens to anyone who gets too close to him." It pained her to say that, but she had to push aside her feelings for the wizard, or risk sharing Lenalta's fate.

Rotai sighed and nodded, but his eyes snapped up to something happening near the door. Someone had been bumped while trying to walk out, and was looking around for the source. Several people were looking. Suddenly, a boy appeared out of thin air, clutching his left shoulder as if injured.

"I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get in your way, sir."

"Then maybe you should... watch where I'm going!" The man's words were slurred strangely, and Rikket had some trouble understanding what he said.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, "I'll be more careful..."

"That's right you'll be careful! I'm gonna show you—" The man had drawn back a fist as if to punch him. Punch him? Was everyone this violent? Fortunately, however, a man in a gray cloak had grabbed his wrist and done something. It happened too fast for Rikket to really understand it, but the other man had his face pressed against a table, and the man in the cloak was holding the offending arm behind the man's back.

"It's okay! I wasn't gonna hurt him! I, uh, just wanted to pat him on the head! I don't wanna die!" The man who had been about to punch him was now begging for his life. These people certainly were strange.

The man in the cloak released him, and the other quickly scurried out of the building, careful not to get too close to Rikket. At least one person wasn't trying to hurt him anymore.

"What's your name?" A woman had bent down beside him, bringing her head level with his. She looked nice enough, a bit like his mother. Of course, this was only the second woman he had seen that wasn't in a book, so he supposed any of them would look like his mother.

"My name's Rikket. Who might you be?"

"I'm Anya, and this is Rotai." She indicated the man in the gray cloak, who was already walking away, toward a table in the far corner. "You look a bit young to be wandering around this late at night."

"I'm not young! I'm fifteen years old!" He frowned a little as the woman smiled. She seemed to find that amusing, though he didn't understand why. "I was waiting for my parents in the forest, but I started to get hungry, and Caab pointed me toward this city." The last word was a bit difficult for him. He had read about cities in books, but this was the first time he had ever been inside one.

"Well come sit with us, and I'll find something for you." He hesitated, wondering whether she was going to hurt him, like the men outside. They had said much the same thing, but somehow it sounded different coming from her. After a moment, he decided to trust her a little, and followed her over to the table.

The next hour or so passed all too quickly, as Rikket devoured a leg of lamb and drank at least three glasses of water before he stopped counting them. He was more hungry than he thought, and his shoulder had stopped bothering him after the woman, Anya, had done something to it.

The man, Rotai, merely watched him eat, but the woman was humming softly, and a round piece of metal was spinning on the table in front of her. Was she doing that?

He paused between mouthfuls, looking at the metal piece. "How did you do that?"

"I have a magic necklace, and I'm learning how to use it."

"I bet I could do it," Rikket said confidently. If she could do it, of course he could. They were just people, after all, the same as him.

Anya and Rotai exchanged a slight smile, reminding him a bit of the way his parents would look when he had told them about his explorations in the forest. After a moment, though, she took off her necklace and carefully handed it to him. He looked at it for a moment, seeing just a plain-looking black rock on a chain, then shrugged and slipped it over his head.

"Yes, just put it on, concentrate on the coin, and—"

She stopped suddenly, seeing the piece of metal already spinning. Rikket smiled, enjoying this new toy. He made the metal spin and jump, then used the magic necklace to bend and stretch it into the shape of a little person and dance for them.

"How... How is that possible?" She was staring at him in shock, and he couldn't understand why.

"Umm, it's a magic necklace, right?"

"Yes, but... How did you do that?"

Rikket shrugged his shoulders and took off the necklace. The little man-shaped piece of metal fell over and sat there on the table. "With the magic necklace."

Rotai watched quietly as he handed the magic necklace back to Anya, then spoke. "Can you do it without the necklace?"

He shook his head. Obviously you needed a magic necklace to do something like that, or he wouldn't have been able to do it. That was how magic worked, after all.

"Try."

"I can't. Not without the necklace."

"Try anyway."

Rikket sighed. There was no arguing with adults. They really did remind him of his parents. They always thought they were right, but he knew he couldn't make the metal dance on his own. He stared at it, trying to will it to move, but nothing happened. "I tried. I can't."

Rotai seemed a bit disappointed, but said nothing, instead taking a sip of his drink. Anya stared at her necklace for another moment, then sighed and put it back on. "How did you hurt your shoulder, Rikket?"

"A man hit me with a stick. They said they were going to give me some food, and that Barok would like me, but then they hit me, and I disappeared and ran away."

"Slaver scum," the man growled, "Best to avoid those unless you know how to defend yourself."

"Defend myself? What do you mean?"

* * *

As Xentor emerged from his portal in the familiar alleyway, he was greeted by the sounds of battle. Well, perhaps not exactly a battle. He came around the corner to the main street, and a crowd had gathered, watching Rotai and some teenaged boy fighting with wooden quarterstaffs.

"Don't just defend yourself. Try to strike me." Apparently Rotai had taken an apprentice, and the boy seemed rather skilled. Knowing the assassin, he probably found a child who had been raised with weapons and knew little else.

"I can't. I don't want to hurt you."

"You've just learned how to hold it, and now you think you can hurt me? Go ahead and try it."

Just learned? The boy moved like he had grown up with that weapon, and he had just begun his training? That wasn't possible.

"I told you, I can't." The sparring stopped, and the two combatants exchanged a long look. Xentor moved a bit closer, still unnoticed by his friend.

"Why not? You can't expect to win a duel if you never try to strike your opponent."

The boy shook his head, seeming afraid of the very concept of attacking someone, and Rotai looked almost sympathetic. There was clearly something different about this child, and Xentor couldn't quite figure it out. Rotai slowly reached forward and took the boy's weapon, hefting it for a moment.

"Then perhaps an example. Care to try your luck, wizard?" Before Xentor could express his surprise, the quarterstaff had been thrown to him, and the assassin was still facing the other way. The man must have eyes in the back of his head.

The Guardian considered it for a moment, then nodded. He hadn't used a normal weapon in quite some time, and it would be good to see how much of his training he still remembered. He twirled the staff a couple times, testing its weight, and the spectators parted to give them more room.

"You may want to drop the cloak, Xentor." Rotai had turned, and the boy had moved back into the crowd. "You might get tangled."

The young prince adjusted his grip and held his staff diagonally forward, tapping Rotai's on either side before stepping back into a combat stance. He and the assassin circled each other carefully, their weapons still, each observing the other's movements and searching for a weakness without exposing any of their own.

Almost simultaneously, the two men struck, their staffs impacting each other several times before both went back to circling. This wasn't the duel, of course. They were merely testing their opponent, gauging his speed and reaction time, and finding counters to his fighting style.

By the third hit, Xentor knew the assassin was the more skilled combatant and also the stronger. The only advantage the sorcerer had was speed. He had always been a bit slender, and that made him more agile than the more muscular human.

With a flurry of strikes and counters, the two tested one another again, then launched into a proper duel. Xentor's moves were quick and precise, but he realized almost immediately that his fighting style was flawed. He was used to the cutting edge of a Blade Staff, which would generally slice through a weapon or limb with almost no resistance. With a regular weapon, he had to add force to his swings and thrusts, or be knocked aside. Perhaps it was luck that enabled him to last the first few seconds, but it was skill that carried him past that, as he adjusted to the unfamiliar weapon and expertly countered the other's moves.

Only when Rotai's staff jerked past his defenses and stopped a hair's width from his neck did he see his mistake. The man wasn't slower than Xentor at all. The man had lured him into assuming so, and only used his full speed when the opening presented itself. The Guardian had been trained by the best, but clearly he had neglected his weapon training in favor of magic.

The crowd applauded, and both men lowered their staffs and bowed slightly in respect. Xentor's staff rose out of his hands and floated over to the boy, who watched it in awe. Why was he so frightened by a little magic?

"You fight well, for a wizard. Better than I expected." Rotai seemed concerned, his words a bit hesitant, as if he was testing for something.

"I was out of practice. Who is your new apprentice?" The boy was only a few feet away, twirling the staff expertly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. For some reason, though, the boy kept looking over his shoulder, perhaps at someone he knew in the rapidly-dispersing crowd.

"My name's Rikket. Who might you be?"

Ignoring the question, Xentor looked back to his friend. "Did you say he had just begun his training?"

"He's a quick study. You'd think he had been born with the weapon now. You should see what he can do with Anya's necklace."

Those last words made Xentor's eye open wide, but he quickly hid his reaction, keeping his voice calm. "I'd like to see that."

The girl walked quietly through the town, stopping at each corner to see what waited around it. She moved away from the main road and stepped through side streets and alleyways, giving herself time to think. Had that boy really seen her? That wasn't possible. She had only been here a few hours, but she knew that these people couldn't see her when she was invisible.

There was something about that boy though. He had seemed familiar, though she knew she had never seen him before. She had never seen anyone before she came to this town, except of course her parents. Why they sent her away on her fifteenth birthday, she had no idea.

* * *

The piece of metal danced on the table, doing little spins and flips. A piece of its head split off and stretched into a tiny quarterstaff, and the figure started to twirl it around as if practicing forms.

Rikket smiled, enjoying playing with Anya's necklace again. "If you have another one, I can make them fight!"

The three adults were watching with varied expressions. Anya seemed at once amused and jealous, though he had no idea why this would make her jealous. Rotai was watching the figure, but kept glancing toward the wizard. Xentor seemed more surprised than anything else, but that didn't make sense either. If he was a wizard, why should something this simple surprise him?

"Something the matter, wizard?" Rotai seemed amused, but the other man ignored the question.

"What else can you do, Rikket?"

"Oh, I can only do this with the magic necklace." He paused, seeing disbelief in Xentor's expression. "I'm no wizard."

"He also has a habit of turning invisible," Rotai added as the metal piece flopped down to the table surface. Rikket had removed the necklace, and was handing it back to Anya.

"I just get scared sometimes. Don't you ever disappear?" He hesitated, looking at each of their faces. "Can't... can't you disappear too?"

"No, Rikket," the woman said softly. "That's magic."

"But not Xen Magic." The wizard's words sounded important, but he didn't understand them. Anya and Rotai looked askance at the other man, seeming to grasp their significance. Rotai was the first to respond, a bit more slowly than usual.

"But I thought the necklace used the same kind of magic as you do."

"It does, but he wasn't using the necklace."

"Wait a second," Rikket interrupted. "How did I make the metal dance if I didn't use the necklace? That's silly." Was the wizard actually suggesting that he did magic without the magic necklace? Well, they did say that disappearing was magic, but it never felt like that before.

Xentor stood, looking down at him. "Come, Rikket. There is something you need to see."

The boy shrugged and stood, following the strange wizard out of the tavern. He saw Rotai and Anya following, and gave the man a confused look as he trailed behind the red cloak.

As they got to the street, the wizard started to change shape. He shrunk down and took the form of a wolf, and Rikket hurried after him. They ran to the edge of town, villagers dodging out of the way, seeming afraid.

"Hey, wait for me!" He was having a little trouble keeping up, his paws not quite in rhythm as he loped down the cobblestone street. Instead of responding, the wizard changed again, leaping into the air and sprouting wings like a bird. Rikket quickly followed him skyward, stumbling a bit until he got the hang of the wind currents. People certainly did have a strange way of getting around here. Wouldn't it be easier to just walk?

The two of them circled the entire town, rather quickly, and Rikket started to wonder where they were going. He kept yelling at Xentor to slow down, but the man just didn't listen. Soon the other bird glided down to the street, landing in front of Rotai and Anya and changing back to a man. Rikket landed right in front of him.

"What was that all about? I thought you wanted to show me something."

"I did. Tell me, Rikket. Have you ever heard of a place called Xyn?"

* * *

The girl blended into the crowd of people, shedding her invisibility to get a better look at the chase. The man and boy had turned into wolves, then into falcons. It seemed natural, but the girl had seen enough of these people to know that it wasn't. He could disappear like her, so maybe she could do those things too.

As she pushed to the front of the crowd, the boy snapped his gaze to her, and they just stared at each other for a few moments. It was him. She had always known there was someone out there besides her and her parents, and it was him.

Well, if the boy was just going to stare at her like that, she would have to make the first introduction. She thought back to the books her parents had let her read, and tried to remember proper etiquette. She stepped forward and extended her hand to shake his, and smiled politely.

"Pleased to meet you, Rikket. I'm Trellia."

## * * *

Xentor's heart skipped a beat, then another as he stepped into his second vision and saw the clouds of Xen Magic swirling around the girl. She was at least ten times his strength, if not more. Even his teacher, Relvar, an ArchSorcerer, the strongest mage on all of Xen, would be dwarfed beside this teenage girl's power.

But that was not what froze him up completely. She called herself Trellia! Trellia, the kidnapped infant child of Prince Treloc and Princess Xentalia. His niece. Was that even possible? Xentalia had given birth only five months ago, and this girl was a teenager, perhaps the same age as the fifteen-year-old Rikket.

On top of that, the chemistry between the two of them was unmistakable. As the adults led them into the tavern and kept watch over their table from across the room, the two started to exchange stories of their childhood, surprised at the similarities. For fifteen years, they had each been raised alone, seeing no one but their parents. They had been isolated from other people, and lived simply.

"So after waiting around all day, I got hungry and decided to wait for my parents in town. There were plenty of ripe fruits in the forest, but I couldn't harm the trees by taking any."  
"Of course not." The girl agreed like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"So I followed Caab's directions to Serpentooth, and here I am. My parents still haven't shown up yet, though."

"Mine aren't coming. They told me it was time to go off on my own, and that I'd probably never see them again. I cried for hours."

"I never cry. My parents always told me that if I was ever afraid, just—"

"Disappear." She smiled at him, then looked down at herself, shocked. "Hey, why can't I disappear?"

Rikket looked down at himself, adopting a similar expression, but trying not to panic. "I can't either. Xentor, something's wrong!" He stood and hurried over to the adults' table, making it about halfway across the room until he heard her voice.

"Rikket!" He turned, and she wasn't there. After a moment, she appeared at the table, just as before. He looked down at himself, and he had become invisible again. He started back to her, and saw her smile. He had reappeared too, but not intentionally.

He carefully took a step toward the adults, then another, holding his hand in front of him and staring at it. He nearly bumped into one of the serving girls, but quickly apologized and stepped toward them again. He vanished.

Trellia watched him from the table, probably piecing together what he had just discovered. She looked at her hand, and then disappeared. Rikket stepped toward her table, and they both became visible simultaneously. For some reason, they couldn't do it when they were near each other. Maybe it really was magic.

* * *

Anya finished her song, and began another when the scattered applause had faded. A few of the patrons yelled lewd comments, but she was used to that, and ignored it. She wasn't even paying attention to her performance, as that was practically instinctive, given how long she had worked here. She was watching the two children as they sat on opposite sides of the room and played with their magic, making coins dance and transforming into wolves and birds right in front of everyone. Some of the patrons seemed nervous, but most thought it was just part of the entertainment.

She was concerned for the children themselves. They were in danger, and they didn't even realize it. She had seen what happened to anyone who became too close to Xentor, and these two were going to become more of his kind. She hated to be this close to the wizard, but those children were innocent, and someone had to protect them from him.

A couple of hours later, Rikket and Trellia found themselves at a table with the three adults, having finished playing with their magic for the time being. The wizard had wanted to talk to them, and Rotai and Anya had insisted on being there.

"You know me simply as Xentor," he began, "but my full title is Sorcerer Prince Xentor of the Dimension of Xen. My father is Lord Xen, ruler of the Xen Guardians. My sister is Princess Xentalia, and her husband Prince Treloc." He paused, continuing slowly. Rikket wondered why this was so important. Sure, he had read about royalty in books, but the wizard didn't really look like much of a prince. Didn't they all wear fancy clothes and ride around in carriages with servants and bodyguards?

"My sister," he continued, "gave birth five months ago. She had a daughter, and that child was kidnapped by a strong mage."

Rikket listened to the story, and wondered if this was just some fairy tale the wizard had read. He looked at Trellia for a moment and shrugged.

"The child's name was Trellia."

Both of the children gasped almost in unison, Trellia looking at Xentor while Rikket looked at her. People did have the same name sometimes, right? They never had in the books he read, but it was possible.

"Xentor," came Rotai's voice, "Trellia is clearly more than five months old."

"No... I'm fifteen..."

"Time flows differently in different dimensions. It seems possible that she was taken at birth, raised somewhere alone for some unknown reason, and then sent back. The question is how you both came into such powerful magical ability without even realizing it."

Anya glared at the wizard, her voice threatening. "That's enough, Xentor. You have no right to pull them into this. Your life is too dangerous for these children!"

Merely holding a hand up to silence the woman, Xentor gestured toward the table between them. An image shimmered into view, showing a square rock surrounded by sand.

Rikket pointed at it, opening his eyes wide. "Hey, I recognize that! My parents took me to see one just like it!"

"So did mine. One exactly like it," Trellia added.

"No, the one I saw was half-buried, but it was the same shape, and in the middle of a desert."

"My mother said it was a special rock." He thought back to that vacation, and of how much his parents had respected that rock. "She said it was the place—"

"The place where sentinels were born." They both nodded, and the adults just stared.

"This is the Xen Pedestal," the wizard said reverently. "This is where new apprentices are taken to be initiated as Xen Guardians. The Pedestal grants them their magic, as it granted Trellia hers. I suspect there is a similar one on Xyn, and that Rikket was taken there."

"But if that's where you Guardians are made," Rotai said hesitantly, "then what's a sentinel?"

"I would very much like to know."

* * *

"So you'll provide my men with these amazing weapons of yours? What do you want in return?" The man was clearly hooked, and the green-skinned woman smiled.

"We want information. That and we want some assurance that you won't act against my master's interests."

The slavers' camp was filthy, but was at least organized in its own fashion. The tents were spaced equally around the edge of the clearing, all facing the wooden cages in the center. Half-naked men, women, and children filled the cages, waiting to be sold to whoever would pay, and most of them likely to die shortly after.

Despite being only a short walk from Serpentooth, the men had managed to keep the camp hidden from prying eyes, generally by filling the cages with anyone who came too close. Their leader, known only as Barok, held them together through brute force, and a clumsy façade of intelligence and leadership.

He thought for a few moments, giving the watching slavers the impression of careful deliberation, but Cyari could see in his eyes that he had no intention of turning down her offer. She smiled even before his inevitable nod, and she began to benefit only moments after the ceremonial hand-shake.

"I hear you've been after that wizard fellow, right? Well he's got these new friends..."

* * *

"Sentinels." Xentor sipped his drink, still amazed at the turn of events. Two mages, each many times stronger than the strongest Guardians, had just fallen into his lap.

"And the great wizard is an uncle now. If those are your niece and nephew, Xentor, I think your children would be fearsome indeed." Rotai chuckled as he drank, finding the whole situation entertaining.

"Niece, yes. I can't claim any relation to Rikket. The situation is a bit complicated."

"Well you'd best act the part anyway." Anya wasn't drinking at all. She sat opposite the Guardian, her expression more concerned than congratulatory. "I can't begin to imagine how those children feel now, but they'll need someone to look up to."

Xentor glanced upward, as if looking through the ceiling to the bedrooms upstairs, where Rikket and Trellia slept. He had suggested that they take separate rooms on opposite ends of the building, so they would have the use of their magic, but they had insisted on sharing. Young love seemed so foolish to him, but he had little say in the matter. The most Anya could do was put them in a room with separate beds.

"Trellia, I can take to her true parents on Xen. Whoever raised her, they were nothing of the sort. Rikket will be more difficult."

"Why difficult?" Anya questioned, "Can't your sister adopt him?"

"Because if I take him to Xen, his magic will be useless. There is no Xyn Magic there."

"So what? He can be normal."

"Normal? Do you have any concept of the power those children have at their disposal?" Xentor lowered his voice, not anxious to scare the patrons. "With that much magic, they could destroy entire worlds." A terrifying thought. Or it would be if they didn't seem to be incapable of harm.

A crash and a yell from upstairs cut the conversation short, and all three of them were on their feet in a flash. Rotai was the first to the second floor, and barely ducked aside in time to avoid a glowing projectile that struck the wall inches from his head.

Two men stood in the hallway, covered in plates of form-fitting armor and holding devices in their hands that looked like small crossbows. The other fired, but his shot vanished in mid-air a foot in front of the wizard, who now stepped ahead of Rotai with the courage of one who knew he was untouchable.

The assassin wasn't afraid of the strange weapons, by any stretch, but he knew Xentor was better equipped to handle this. He followed behind, keeping the red cloak between his body and the crossbows. A flash of metal came into the other man's hands and that deadly staff of his sliced into the enemy mercilessly. Leaving the two bodies, they turned to the bedroom, and Rotai saw the door laying in pieces, and the room empty.

The Guardian stepped back and crouched down beside the dead soldiers, his staff shrinking into a small cylinder. He turned one over and pointed out the scar on the back of the neck, as if it was supposed to mean something.

"Not again... Not again!" The wizard was furious. He glanced down the hallway, and one of his holes in the air sprang open. A stone path was seen inside, but when he threw each corpse into the portal, he wasn't aiming for the path. The bodies started floating off to the side, and it looked like they would float there forever.

* * *

Rikket clutched Trellia's hand tightly as they were led down a dark hallway. The men around them all wore metal armor, and he noticed they each had a small scar on the back of their neck. He knew they were in trouble, but somehow his newfound power gave him hope, even though it was useless unless he could get further away from her. Still, he wouldn't let go of her hand, or she his.

"Who are you people? Where are you taking us?" His question went unanswered, and Trellia just squeezed his hand tighter.

"I thought she said they were Guardians." One of their captors spoke, his voice sounding entirely normal. Rikket had expected something more monstrous. "They didn't put up much of a fight."

"Better get them to an inhibitor field anyway. Remember what the last one did."

One of them nodded, clenching his left hand. Rikket thought he heard a whirring sound as the fingers curled. Something didn't quite look right about that hand.

"I remember." The man replied, a grim look on his face.

They walked casually through identical hallways, turning so many times that Rikket wouldn't have known if they were going in circles. Or squares, he supposed. He glanced behind, wondering if he'd be able to get far enough from Trellia to use his magic, and then wondering what he would do with it. Disappearing wouldn't help much in these narrow hallways, as each intersection seemed to have doors that could be closed. Being invisible didn't let him walk through walls. Could he do that too? He'd never tried.

Both of them stumbled as the soldiers stopped short. It was more than that. The men seemed to be paralyzed, only their eyes moving, their legs halted mid-step. A red light appeared in the air in front of them, bursting open into a hole in the air. It looked almost like the hole the soldiers had taken them through, except theirs was yellow and rectangular.

"Go. Go now." Xentor's voice startled them, and they looked back to see him several yards back, walking toward the soldiers with a metal cylinder in his hands.

Rikket and Trellia exchanged a glance, then practically leapt through the hole, running down the stone path inside. They were alone in a reddish-blue void, with giant rocks floating slowly through the sky. The path itself seemed to curve in loops and spirals, but as they followed it, they always seemed to be standing flat on the ground, while the rest of the world turned.

"He didn't follow." Trellia was looking behind them, and indeed no one was there. The hole in the air was gone, and the path ended a few feet behind them. With each step, a little more of it vanished. It wasn't rushing them, for they found they could stand still without it disappearing further, but they couldn't go back.

The two children walked for a few minutes in silence, until the path came to an abrupt end. As they approached it, another hole burst open in the air, and they could see a dark alleyway beyond. Exchanging a nervous glance, they stepped through together.

* * *

Blackness faded, and Xentor looked around him, trying to remember what had happened. He had sent the children back to Serpentooth as planned, but then it had gone wrong. He remembered putting away his weapon and opening a portal to Xen for himself, but then something had struck him from behind. He quickly put a hand to the back of his head, and felt moisture. It wasn't serious, but it had been enough to knock him out cold.

He inspected his surroundings, and found little that surprised him. An empty cell. Metal walls and metal bars, but no one watching. Could the Telthans be that foolish? He shrugged to himself, then opened up a portal. Well, he tried to open a portal, but the magic wasn't there. It took him a few moments, but he soon located the inhibitor device on the far wall, across the hallway from the cell.

This one was larger than the ones inside the Hunter robots, with a wider range, but it was also weaker, like they had stretched it too thinly. He reached for the weapon at his belt, but found it absent. Had they taken it? Then he remembered, in his haste to escape, he hadn't returned it to his belt, but to his cloak.

The cloak Relvar had given him was about to save him. The inner surface contained a pocket into Trans-D space, so it could be used as storage, particularly when he planned to shift forms. With enough practice, changing into an animal was merely difficult, not impossible, but his Xianite staff could not be modified. Xianite could not be altered by Xen Magic, so he would store it in the Trans-D pocket until it was needed again.

Fortunately, it seemed the magic of the cloak was stronger than the inhibitor device, for though it felt like reaching through sand instead of air, he managed to retrieve the weapon. Seconds later, he had cut his way out of the cell, and seconds after that, he had destroyed the inhibitor and opened a portal to Xen. Rotai could take care of the children for a little while, but he would need help from the Guardians to keep the Telthans at bay.

## * * *

"He should have been right behind us." Trellia insisted. They sat in the common room with Rotai, while Anya performed on stage.

"What if he got captured, Lia?" He had taken to calling her that, as a sort of pet name. They had only known each other a short while, but there was some sort of bond there, and neither wanted to fight it.

"Rik, he knows what he's doing. He doesn't need our help. Besides, how would we get there?"

"Listen, you two. Don't even think of mounting a rescue attempt. Let his people deal with it, and you just stay here where it's safe."

"Safe? They took us from this place, remember? It's not safe here! Tell him, Rik. Xentor could protect us, but if he's captured—"

"If he's captured, and you try to save him, you'll end up getting captured too. You think you're going to be heroes by saving the day? Heroes are just fools who get lucky. The ones that aren't lucky end up in shallow graves."

Rikket shook his head. "You heard what he said. Our magic is stronger than his."

"But only when we're apart. And we still need a way to get there, wherever 'there' is."

"You saw how Xentor sent us back here. I bet I could make one of those. If he can do it, I can do it." Rikket leapt to his feet and ran out of the tavern, squeezing between a pair of large men who seemed a bit familiar.

Trellia watched him for a moment, and then followed him out. The two men looked at her as if about to grab her, but they moved aside as they saw Rotai two steps behind.

"Rik, don't be silly! You can't just see it once and know how to do it!" Rikket was on the other side of the street, staring off to the side and looking like he was readying himself for something.

"Why not?" He took a deep breath and thrust a hand forward, fingers spread. If Xentor could make a hole in the air, so could he. There wasn't a doubt in his mind.

He was right.

Everyone turned to see as the portal burst open right in front of the boy. They had never actually seen one, as Xentor had always been careful to emerge in dark alleys where prying eyes were unlikely. This one was right in the middle of the street, and the only one not surprised to see it was Rikket himself.

"Fifteen? Xentor, that's—"

"Unlikely, yes. Hard to believe, of course. But there is no doubt. Whoever took your child has raised her since, in a dimension with a faster timeline. She is now a beautiful fifteen-year-old girl, with more magical ability than I have ever seen."

"Little brother, if this is some kind of joke, I promise I'll make you regret it." Xentalia was nearly in tears, afraid to believe, but overjoyed at the possibility that she would see her daughter again. The pain of losing her had nearly faded, but it was not forgotten.

"Nothing but truth. Come with me to Earth, and you will meet both of them."

"Both?"

* * *

Rikket crept through the identical hallways, standing silently against the wall whenever anyone came by. Invisibility was useful, but it didn't make him silent, and wouldn't help if someone bumped into him. He was sure he could do those things with magic, but now wasn't a good time to experiment. He needed to find Xentor and get to safety.

That was, of course, the problem. Every hallway looked the same, and the signs on the walls were in a weird language he couldn't begin to understand. The place was a labyrinth of passageways, and he had no idea where to look.

"There's nothing here. This tracker must be malfunctioning." Rikket had backed up against the wall to let the two men pass, but they had stopped only a few paces away. They were holding some sort of metal box, and looking at it carefully.

"Maybe there's one hiding here. You know, with that magic of theirs."

"With an inhibitor right here?" He was pointing to a small object on the wall, right near the ceiling, Rikket didn't know what it was, but it must have been important.

"Come on, let's get a replacement unit. This is a waste of time." As the two men wandered off, Rikket looked carefully at the object. The name suggested that it was there to prevent something, and their conversation pointed to only one thing. This was supposed to stop magic. So why was he still invisible?

Maybe the inhibitor was only there to stop Xen Magic. The wizard had told him that his magic was different, so maybe it didn't work on him. He decided it would be safer to just destroy it. But what if someone noticed?

There was a tiny bit of smoke rising from the object, but it was gone in a few moments. Had he done that? Did he already destroy it, without even trying? This magic sure was powerful!

As Rikket wandered randomly through the corridors, he did the same thing to each inhibitor he passed. He didn't know if it was actually working, but it was easy enough, and seemed safe.

He backed up against the wall again, as a small group of men approached. Maybe he should adopt some sort of system of searching. The place seemed to be laid out like a grid, so he could go straight down one hallway, and loop around to the next when he hit a wall. That way he could cover—

"Intruder! Hit the alarm!" What? Those men were looking straight at him! He checked his hands, and realized he'd reappeared. As the men came toward him, he ran for it. He had to get away from whatever was stopping his magic, and then get out of this place before they found a way to trap him.

That was when he saw her.

* * *

"Foolish children. How could they be so stupid?"

"Are you referring to my daughter, little brother?"

Rotai shrugged at the two Guardians. He had to admit, Xentor's sister really was as attractive as he'd claimed. "They thought you were captured, wizard. Rikket went alone, and Trellia followed about a half hour after. I couldn't exactly stop them."

"She would have been caught within minutes. The hallways there are blanketed with inhibitor fields. Rikket may be safe, though. I don't know if they would have the same effect on his magic as they do on ours." Xentor's expression was cold. Too cold to be describing the fate of innocent children. He knew he should be worried about them, especially considering one was his sister's daughter. By the same token, he should have been afraid when he had been thrown in one of those cells again. He wasn't.

"Do you think he can keep her safe?"

Rotai shook his head, answering before Xentor could. "The second he goes near her, his magic will be gone too."

"We can do nothing but endanger them further."

* * *

"You shouldn't have come, Lia." The two children had been thrown in a cell together, with a pair of soldiers watching them from across the hall. One of those inhibitors was on the wall above their heads, but Rikket wasn't sure if it was one of those he had destroyed.

"I thought something had happened to you. I couldn't just wait there."

"I know." He sighed, understanding her feelings. He felt the same way about her, and would have gone crazy in a situation like that. He held her close to him, hoping someone would come and save them.

The cell door was opened some time later. It felt like a long time, but Rikket couldn't be sure. As he was grabbed and pulled aside, he tried to calm himself, ready to face whatever he had to face. When they started dragging Trellia out of the cell, he screamed his lungs out.

"Leave her alone! If you hurt her, I'll kill you all! All of you!" People did not hurt other living things. It simply wasn't done. It would be done, though. He felt the urge within him to tear each of them limb from limb, and it scared him. He wanted to kill them for even daring to lay a finger on her. He knew how wrong it was, but he wanted blood.

Rikket sat alone in the cell, watching his hands, trying to turn invisible. He should have been able to do it, but it just wouldn't work. That was when he heard the first scream. It was Trellia. She was in the next room, and they were hurting her. They were hurting her, and he could do nothing. He clenched his fists so tightly he nearly drew blood from his palms, and he listened to her pain. As long as he could hear her, she was still alive.

It seemed like an eternity before the screams stopped, and his heart stopped with them. He waited breathlessly to hear her again, to know that though she was in agony, she was still there.

When he had nearly given up hope, the soldiers returned with her, hanging limply between them, but still breathing. They threw her back into the cell, and he carefully laid her head in his lap. She was cut and bruised, and her breathing was faint, but she was alive.

"I'll make them pay, Lia. They'll all pay."

The night passed slowly, or at least it felt like night. Trellia slept with her head in Rikket's lap, and he slept sitting up against the wall. No one bothered them for a time, but they both knew this wasn't over.

In the morning, or what felt like morning, they came for Rikket. Trellia wanted to cry, but his determined look kept her strong. She had been through their torture, and he would survive too. They would find a way out of here together.

* * *

"You mistake us, boy. All we want to do is help you. We know of your magic, and one like you could be quite useful to us."

Rikket tested his bonds, but the straps held his wrists securely. The man looked at him like he was a piece of meat, and he was more afraid than he had ever been.

"You heard what we did to your girl. We could do worse. Maybe you'd be more cooperative if it meant she would survive."

"If you kill her, I'll see this whole world burn." The hate in his eyes was terrifying, even to himself. The man actually flinched, unsure of whether that was actually possible.

"Oh, we wouldn't kill her. There are many things worse than death. Here, let me show you."

Trellia sat quietly against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut as she heard the screams. She was still in pain, but it was nothing beside the pain she heard from Rikket. She wanted to burst through the wall and rescue him, but her magic was worthless. She couldn't do anything to help him. All she could do was listen and cry.

Hours passed, or so it seemed, and the screams came and went. By the end, they were fewer and weaker, but that didn't mean the torture was any less. She hugged her knees to her chest, wishing it would just end. She got her wish.

They dragged Rikket back to the cell, broken and bleeding. She held him tightly, but his body was limp. His eyes focused on her, but he didn't move.

"Just hold on," She said softly. "Someone will come for us. We just have to stay alive a little longer. Don't leave me, Rik."

He coughed, blood dropping from the corners of his mouth. "I... I'm sorry, Lia."

"No, don't be sorry. Just stay. Please..."

"I love you, Lia. You're... free now."

"Just hold on, Rik! Please! Don't die! Rik!" His eyes had gone still, and his chest no longer rose. She cried. She cried harder than ever before. She cried until she thought she would dry up.

"Now, girl, are you prepared to cooperate? Or would you prefer to share his fate?" The man stood outside the bars and smiled at her tears. He smiled! He was enjoying this! He had killed Rikket, and he had enjoyed it!

She had read about people like this in books. Sadists who liked to inflict pain. She had thought they were just stories, and that all people were inherently decent. It was wrong to harm others, because all people were good. That had always seemed true, beyond anything else. Now, it was gone. It was a lie.

Trellia looked into the man's eyes, wiping away her tears. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to reach into his chest and rip his heart out, as he had done to her by killing Rikket. She wanted to hear him scream and beg for mercy as she had done. She wanted all these things, but she knew she couldn't. She wanted to kill them all, but she couldn't do it. Deep down inside, she knew she couldn't.

But she would still have her revenge. Rikket was right. She was free now.

When her eyes started to glow bright red, the man's smile vanished. Trellia stood slowly, cradling Rikket in her arms, his body almost weightless as the magic helped support him. She didn't know how she was doing it, but she knew she could, and so she did.

The sadistic man now shook in fear. He looked to the device on the wall. The thing they called an inhibitor. The thing that should be stopping her magic from working at all.

"Your toys don't work on me anymore." She gritted her teeth, glaring at him. "All of those nice toys and you only use them to hurt people. No more."

She didn't know what she did, but she knew what she wanted, and she knew she had the power to do it. The ceiling above her exploded to bits, and she rose smoothly through that hole and the hole above that, passing hundreds of stunned people as she shot up through dozens of floors, bursting into the open sky. She looked down at the city, a vast grid of identical buildings, full of more people than she could comfortably fathom, and full of their death machines.

Trellia knew she couldn't kill them, but though it was wrong to hurt living things, machines were not living. Red light flowed out from her in waves, and she glowed brighter than the sun. These people would pay for what they had done to her, to Rikket, and who knew how many others. She had read stories of vengeance and death. She was vengeance.

The waves of red light spread for miles and miles, spanning continents and bathing the surface of the planet. Where the light touched, their evil machines crumbled to dust. Weapons, vehicles, appliances, and anything else that her mind judged to be a target, were destroyed. She didn't see each of her mechanical victims any more than she could see inside the buildings below her, but the magic saw them, and the magic followed her wishes. It penetrated buildings and seeped into underground bunkers. It touched everyone and everything, and left destruction in its wake.

She was vengeance.

* * *

The hour was late, or perhaps early, and only a few unconscious drunks remained in the tavern to keep Rotai and the two Guardians company. Anya had gone home to sleep, but neither Xentor nor Xentalia wanted to budge until they heard from the children. Rotai was a creature of the night anyway, and work had been a bit sparse lately, so he had nowhere else to be.

"Yes, I'm sure they'll come back." He lied to try to soothe the siblings, and perhaps himself. He had taken a bit of a liking to the boy, and though he already assumed they were both dead, he would be a bit sorry to find out for sure.

"If the Telthans know who they are, they'll never allow them to return to us." The wizard's voice was so cold and emotionless that it almost made Rotai wince. He pitied any man who was that dead inside.

Xentalia said nothing. She merely sat still and waited while the men talked. It was not out of any form of subservience, but simply a refusal to participate, or to acknowledge the most likely fate of the child she had never met.

When the door burst open, all three turned to look, almost expecting the children to run through. Not even the princess was pleased to see her husband enter.

"I thought I'd find you here." Treloc glanced at the patrons for a moment before deciding it was alright to speak freely. "We've recalled all of our spies from Telthan Prime—"

"What?" Xentalia's expression turned to a glare as her anger built. "Why would you do such a thing?" She paused as the man made a calming gesture.

"Because there's nothing left to spy on. All of them reported the same thing: A bright red light in the sky, followed by the entire planet going absolutely insane. It went from complete order to utter chaos in a matter of seconds, and no one knows why."

"Because I broke all of their toys."

Four pairs of eyes snapped to the doorway just as Trellia faded into visibility, still holding Rikket's lifeless body in her arms, both drenched by the deluge of rain outside. Rotai and Xentor hurried over to her, the assassin draping his cloak over her shoulders while the wizard took her burden from her. Xentalia sat frozen, her gaze locked on what must be her daughter, and Treloc simply waited for someone to tell him what was happening.

"Tr... Trellia?" Her long, brown hair was soaking wet, and her pale pink coat was torn and spotted with blood, but she was alive. Only waiting for the slight nod, Xentalia glided over to her and embraced her long lost daughter, already drawing in magic to wash away the pain and heal the torture wounds.

Rotai stepped back, exchanging a glance with Xentor, who had carefully laid the corpse out on a table. Neither would interrupt this reunion, however melancholy.

"They killed him. They beat him until he screamed, and then they killed him. So I destroyed them. All of them." Her voice seemed as cold as Xentor's, but her expression spoke of the pain and sadness she felt.

"What did you do to them?" Treloc's voice was hesitant, but his curiosity won out. He had to know how this had happened.

"I told you. I broke all of their toys."

The gears turned in Treloc's mind as he realized what his daughter meant. "Their technology."

"The implants," was Xentor's deduction. "A planet of slaves, all freed at once."

* * *

_"Morai ai san'yei tiavel. Ao marhei ai tavo."_ Xentalia voiced the ancient prayer as they stood over the grave.

Treloc closed his eyes as he finished it. _"Zha'khatei ai dukkhei."_ He never knew Rikket, but that his daughter loved the boy was reason enough for grief.

Trellia stood quietly, ignoring the rain that poured down on her and drenched her clothes. The others had donned black cloaks for the solemn occasion, but she still wore the same colors she had when she met him, to make sure he recognized her. She had only really known him for a couple of days, but she had felt his presence for most of her life, always just out of sight beyond the next hill. Perhaps he had felt hers too.

The old assassin stood beside Xentor, the other man's magic somehow shielding them from the rain. He had been fond of the boy, and was sorry to see him go, especially like this. He didn't understand the prayers these Guardians offered, but that wasn't important.

The last watcher hid among the trees, unseen by the mourners. He pushed back the hood of his cloak and bowed his head, his face hidden only by shadow. Well, he wasn't the last watcher. As he watched for the trees, the animals of the forest watched beside him. Caab couldn't tell what the future would bring, but he knew when the gods were watching, and he knew he would meet the boy again.

#

#

# Part VI - Visitor

It was the middle of the morning on the weekly day of rest, and villagers gathered in the temples to pray to their chosen patron, seeking help from the omnipotent beings in the skies above.

In the Temple of Osseiria, in the Free City of Harinth, people knelt before a marble statue of a beautiful woman suckling a child at her breast. They asked for favors and for mercy, depending on her help to get them through their daily life. What they didn't know was that she was otherwise occupied.

"I'm sorry, Guardian, but we can do no more." She actually did look similar to the statue, but she had no children other than those who prayed to her.

"So you will stand aside and let the Telthans expand their influence here?"

"We cannot stand against them directly like your people can. You must understand that we are not accustomed to fighting in wars. We watch over our flocks, and try to make peace with those who would infringe upon our territory." The woman lowered her voice, making sure she was not overheard by the nearby worshippers. "If they were to come near my temple, I would smite them utterly, but treaties were made, and we must honor them. I'm sorry, Xentor."

He, too, kept his voice low, but the frustration was clear. "So the deities will watch as the Telthans invade this world? Osseiria, you and I both know who leads the Circle. You can—"

"I can do nothing, Guardian. The deal has already been completed. So long as they don't establish a base of their own here, they can move freely. If the natives choose to ally with them, we can do nothing. Free will is one of our most highly-regarded tenets. Can't the Uranans intervene?"

Xentor shook his head, frowning. "They claim they have no quarrel with the Telthans, so they support your treaty. Truth be told, I believe they're afraid of being the next victim of the enemy advance."

The deity nodded, her expression offering sympathy. After a moment's pause, she inquired curiously, "The girl you have been mentoring to the east. The one in Serpentooth. Was she really responsible for the blast on Telthan Prime three years ago?"

He nodded.

"So the Sentinel truly does exist. I shall tell my father. He will watch over her, when he can."

"It would ease my mind. Please send Fim my regards. I haven't visited him in some time."

Osseiria smiled warmly, putting a hand to Xentor's cheek. "When you live as long as we do, a span like that is a mere moment." She stepped back, about to make her exit, but paused.

"Is there something else?"

She looked around even more carefully, as if searching for more than just wandering eyes. "The Collective is advancing. They have taken residence in several new dimensions, and their... followers... are spreading. We are resisting as best we can, but they are nearly as strong as the rest of us combined. They may reach this place soon."

Xentor nodded, understanding the danger. They each bowed their heads slightly in a parting gesture, and she stepped into a side room before vanishing. Danger on every side, and lately, Earth always seemed to be in the center of it.

"Now concentrate on the target, and visualize the knife striking the center. Ready... Now throw!"

The knife stabbed into the wooden target, but nowhere near the center. Trellia sighed, drawing another knife to try again. Rotai hadn't changed much in the past three years, and neither had she. The young Sentinel was still a fair bit shorter than most adults and still favoring the same colors in her wardrobe. When Rikket had been killed, she had clung to that pale pink coat as if it would be a beacon for him to come back from the grave and find her. She had put that behind her, but she still wore the coat every day, or at least conjured an identical one.

Those few hours as a prisoner of the Telthans had changed her completely. She knew how it felt to be helpless, awaiting your own death. She knew the fear and the regret, and she was determined never to be so helpless again. Most of the time, she practiced her magic, though the effort seemed superfluous. The Guardians had been shocked when she tried to explain how she did the things she did, for it took them years of training to accomplish the simplest tasks. All she had to do was will something to happen, and it happened. There was sometimes a feeling of pushing against something unseen, like opening a heavy door, but there was no knowledge or technique to follow. She was as far beyond the Guardians as they were beyond the humans.

The rest of the time, she devoted to non-magical learning. She read books, she studied with Belryn, and she trained with Rotai or Xenlic. The Guard Captain of Castle Xen had remarkable skill, and seemed unmatched in any weapon, but the man in Serpentooth was a good friend.

She had lived fifteen years with two people who pretended to be her parents. They had stolen her from her mother and isolated her for their own reasons. She hated them for that, but she couldn't help thinking of them in the role they had created. Her true parents, on the other hand, loved her with all their hearts, but still seemed like strangers to her. In the end, she had no real family, but she had friends, and people who cared for her. That was enough.

She threw the next knife, and knew as it left her hand that it would strike the center.

* * *

Belryn carefully aligned the field generators, and calibrated the emitters in the shadowed crevice. He wondered why this spot had been chosen as the first Gateway Portal, but his master had told him to follow Xentor's instructions. Leave it to one of the arrogant Guardians to choose his own likeness as the first location.

He emerged from the pedestal beneath the "Dragon Slayer" statue in Ka'Loen, nodding to the young man in the black cloak. The hidden doorway closed behind him, and he headed out of the town, the Guardian beside him.

Once out of sight of the buildings, Akto dropped his invisibility magic, and the blurry scenery jumped to sharp focus. He had claimed that he was still learning the magic, and that it would look normal once he had perfected it, but the effect on outsiders was perfect. No one had seen them carve a hidden compartment into the base of the statue, and no one had seen him build the first portal directly under the stone likeness of their project leader.

"How's the work going, boys?" Belryn asked cheerfully as they reached the construction site.

"The mundane stuff is going smoothly, Sir, but we're having trouble calibrating the repulsors. Still, we should have them working in a few days, and then we'll just have to wait for the boys back home to finish the device."

Xentor's voice surprised everyone as he emerged from a portal at the edge of the clearing. "Good. I take it the first portal is ready?" He waited only a moment for Belryn's nod. "Let me know when it's time to raise the structure. I'll return when I've concealed the doorway."

Villagers paused to look toward the blacksmith's house, as his six-year-old daughter ran screaming from the front door. It was known in the town that he tended to be a bit rough with his wife and children, but no one liked to speak of it.

Xentor watched as a number of people gathered in front of the building, but decided that he hadn't the right to interfere, whatever the situation. He sat down in front of the hidden doorway, as if meditating, and started to bring the magic together. It would take some time to set it up perfectly, but once finished, it would maintain itself for years, perhaps longer.

An hour passed, and the people started to disperse. Xentor had finished with the doorway, and had decided to try his old mapping spell again. He had been able to determine the location of Xyn by reading the directions of Xyn Magic currents in various dimensions, but there were other currents he didn't recognize, and he was trying to trace another. As the apprentice blacksmith walked by, though, his curiosity interrupted him, and he beckoned the young man over.

"What happened there, Niven?"

"Just a small matter, milord." The boy's sad expression told otherwise, and he continued. "Master Davril was killed. They say his son did it by accident, and no one wants to punish him 'cause they know how his father was."

"And the girl who ran off?"

"Oh, that was Caleia, milord. Master Davril's daughter. They sent a couple men to find her."

Xentor paused a moment, trying to remember what it was like to feel true sympathy, but his voice was still cold and emotionless. "A pity." He then forgot Niven entirely as he saw something on his map. He knew where these currents were leading, and he thought he knew what would be at the end.

"If I may ask, milord... What are you building? I heard you and the magician talking about some kind of gateway."

He barely heard the boy, lost in his own thoughts. "Aeos..."

Mallus watched them from the front window of his magic shop, using one of his old eavesdropping spells to hear the conversation. He felt the utmost sympathy for the blacksmith's family, though really none for the man himself. He had been a true artisan, but he should have learned sooner to treat his family as well as he treated his work.

He started to wonder how much Niven had heard about the construction of Gateway Palace, but then he heard Xentor's last word, and became even more interested.

Just then, he noticed something, and his gaze jumped to the northwest. Something was dreadfully wrong.

* * *

The glass of water seemed a bit out of place in the Crescent Moon Tavern, but Trellia had decided two years ago that ale just wasn't for her. She sat quietly at Rotai's table, an hour before midnight, waiting him to come back from work. His work was like that, she had noticed. He would be called off at strange times of night to perform his services, and return minutes or hours later. He hadn't told her exactly what these services were, and she hadn't really bothered to ask.

Drunken men were always a pain when Rotai wasn't here to scare them away. The common room was packed with them, and if not for her friend's reputation, even his table would be filled.

"Hey sweetie, maybe you should start bedding a _real_ man!"

She muttered an equally-rude reply to herself, but had learned over the years that it was better to ignore than provoke, and that speaking to them at all just seemed to make them worse. When the hand came down on her shoulder, and another drunk tried to take her to his bed, she made a hasty departure. Less than a mile outside of town, the forest was quiet and peaceful, and a perfect place to get in some practice. A wooden quarterstaff appeared in her hands, conjured from the air, and she started moving through the stances and maneuvers to the rhythm of the crickets.

"You just let them push you out of there, Trellia," She said aloud to herself. "All this magic and you're getting scared off by drunks. Wouldn't do to harm them, but maybe next time those men will find themselves in bed with each other instead." She grinned at the thought, and then nearly jumped out of her skin as a voice came from behind.

"That would be inappropriate, Guardian." The old man in the orange robe had just appeared out of nowhere. She was afraid for a moment, but he looked old enough to be her grandfather, so perhaps not much of a threat.

"You shouldn't sneak up on me like that!"

"My apologies, Guardian. Old habits, I suppose. After a time, my people come to expect fanciful displays, and walking out from behind a tree just doesn't seem to cut it anymore. I hope I didn't frighten you."

"You just startled me, is all. I didn't think anyone from the town knew I was here. But then, you're not from Serpentooth, are you?"

The old man smiled, like a father to a child. "My home has had many names over the years, but it has none now. I, too, have had many names over the years, but my friends and family know me as Fim, of the ninth order of the Circle of Light."

That sounded like a formal introduction, and a good time to use her full title. She really had no need for titles, but her parents insisted that she use it on occasions like this one. "I am Sentinel Princess Trellia of Xen."

"Ah, no wonder my daughter asked me to watch over you. Well, you seem to care about as much for titles and ceremony as I do, so if it pleases you, I'll call you Trellia, and you can call me Fim." The old man extended a hand to her, that pleasant smile still on his face.

"Nice to meet you, Fim," she said as she shook his hand. "So what's the Circle of Light?"

"Oh, just a bit of politics and bureaucracy to make us deities feel important. It seems anyone who is anyone has some sort of fancy organization these days. The Xen Guardians, the Myconian Commonwealth, the Evassian Triumverate. In company like that, calling ourselves gods just doesn't seem to be enough."

"Gods? You don't look much like a god."

"And you don't look much like a Xen Guardian. But then, you know what they say about looks. How old do you think I look?"

She hesitated, knowing this had to be a trick question, but having no better answer than the obvious one. "Seventy years, perhaps eighty."

The man's laugh was oddly pleasant. "Ah, to be young again. You know, for the first million years, I took on the form of a young, strapping lad. After a while, though, it seemed wrong to pretend like that. Even so, I'd rather look eighty than six million."

The man was insane. "Six million?"

"Well, closer to seven."

"You're seven million years old."

"Does this surprise you?"

Deity or not, this man was crazy. She had heard that her grandfather, Lord Xen, was nearly a thousand years old, but even that seemed a bit ridiculous. The humans on this world rarely even lived to a hundred, and that was plenty.

"Well, how old do I look? No, wait, don't answer that. I'm eighteen. Now how is it that you're still alive?"

Fim shrugged, as if it was of no consequence. "It beats the alternative, doesn't it? If it makes you more comfortable, I believe I'm the oldest of the Circle still sticking around. My daughter, Osseiria, is only five thousand, but I must admit she makes an excellent leader."

"Only..." This was a bit much. How had she ended up talking to a seven-million year-old man in the woods? Something about it just seemed wrong.

"But getting back to business, you were thinking of using a bit of magic to teach those tavern fellows a lesson, weren't you?"

Putting a hundred questions aside in favor of this more normal conversation, she nodded. "They deserve it."

"Perhaps they do, at that, but who are you to decide? You see, having all this power can be quite convenient, but using it on the younger races like that is not appropriate." Not appropriate? Yet it was appropriate for them to fondle her every time she walked past them?

"Then they should have thought of—"

"And more importantly, we have a treaty with the Guardians forbidding it. In return for being allowed free travel throughout our territories, you are not to magically interfere with the younger races."

That was it. The wise old grandfather was laying down the law. She supposed he was just doing his job, but it was still annoying and unfair. "Well what about my uncle? The great Dragon Slayer of Ka'Loen?"

Fim smiled, somehow finding that funny. "Despite what you may have heard, he didn't slay anything. A hundred and five years ago, your uncle walked into a forest and talked to a dragon, and that's about it. The Hero of Rockstone stabbed a fellow in the back, Taranga the Magnificent won a game of dice, and Zephic the Conqueror stabbed his own horse. History tends to embellish a bit."

"Stabbed his own horse?" Trellia couldn't help but chuckle at that.

The deity adopted a dramatic pose, as if about to embark on a dramatic tale, but then just shrugged and lowered his arms. "About six hundred years ago, the Cirric Empire was nearly wiped out by a grand army that came across the sea from what was then the Boreic Empire. The Cirrics had brought all of their forces together at the Field of Davaralis, but they were faced by ten times their number. Their general was about to surrender, but a man named Zephic, a clumsy squire to one of their knights, mounted his horse improperly. His belt knife jabbed his mount, and the horse took off at a gallop. The army was so tense that they saw a horse advancing and began their charge. It was a crushing victory, and the Cirrics went on to conquer six nations. All because of one clumsy oaf who could barely hold onto his reins."

By the end, Trellia was laughing and smiling brightly. The story was too ridiculous to be true, but she still believed the old man. "I hope I never end up in a story like that."

"Well then, Trellia, I suggest you learn to ride a horse." He smiled just as brightly. "Anyway, I have a few matters to attend to, but I'll check on you again soon. Remember what I told you." With those last words, a cloud of smoke formed around him, concealing his departure. The smoke faded, and Trellia was alone again.

She thought she was alone, at least. Something stung the back of her neck, and everything went dark.

* * *

"My Lord, the disturbance seems to cover several dimensions, and is moving slowly between them. The universes it leaves behind are somehow changed, though we can't understand how."

Lord Xen nodded to the young Guardian, and then turned to his other visitor. "And what has the Institute discovered of this, Belryn?"

"It's a localized time phenomena. Some of the men have started referring to it as a 'Time Storm,' but that's not an accurate description. We ran some models on one of the dimensions it hit, and our best guess is that the entire dimension had been pushed forward about ten thousand years. I mean that much time may have passed for it while the storm was there. We've never heard of anything like this before."

Belryn had gained significant standing among the scientists of the Institute, and had gone from being Caltoren's apprentice to a full Researcher himself. His old master, head of the Xen Institute, had named him the official liaison to the Guardians, and he did his job well.

"Disturbing news. I need to know where this storm is headed, and what to expect."

"Of course, Lord Xen." After a brief gesture of dismissal, the man rolled up his left sleeve a few inches and tapped on a metal device wrapped around his forearm. A point of light appeared behind him, then stretched sideways into a line, and rotated to form a spatial portal to his office at the Institute. The Guardian beside him formed his own portal, and soon Lord Xen was alone.

He spent a great deal of his time alone, and he preferred it that way. Ever since his wife had passed on, solitude had just seemed more fitting. Unfortunately, though, a Telthan probe was waiting.

"I have a message for your son, Lord Xen." The hologram was a bit more pleased than usual, and there had to be a reason for it.

"What message would that be, Emperor Taksal?"

"He is about to receive a visitor."

* * *

"Hi! I'm Orp! My friends call me Orp, but you can call me..." An ear-splitting shriek filled the room as the little man finished his greeting. The drunk across the table from him nodded dumbly, looking over the mismatched colors of the undersized coat.

The man who called himself Orp was possibly the strangest person to enter the Crescent Moon Tavern in quite some time, and certainly the most cheerful. The air had seemed to rip apart to let the little fellow step through it, and he had literally climbed onto a chair to talk to the nearest person. A smile seemed to be permanently affixed to his face, and his yellow hair seemed to frizz out in random directions, sometimes shifting for no reason.

"Well I'm drinkin', so why dontcha jus' get outta here!" Enough ale had a way of clouding the wits of any man, even to the point that he would rudely tell off an obviously-inhuman fellow who had stepped out of a hole in the air.

"You're no fun!" Orp hopped off the chair, leaving the rest of the room staring at the drunken man whose head was now on backwards and upside-down. The poor man didn't seem to notice right away.

A handsome man stepped into the tavern, offering only a brief glance at the deformed lout before moving inconspicuously to a table in the back of the room. The green-skinned woman, hiding her face beneath a hooded cloak, nodded for him to sit down with her.

"We have the goods in our possession. If the buyer wants delivery, we expect our fee to be paid." His face paint was flaking off in a few spots, showing bits of the tribal clan markings on his cheeks. Fortunately he still looked human enough not to attract attention.

"Good. My Master is arranging payment. Remember, we want the goods intact. No corpses this time, Mavat." The mercenary almost seemed disappointed, but Cyari concealed her smile.

* * *

"No, we need not trouble our father with this. He has enough to worry about. If I'm wrong about this, we will come back with nothing. If I'm right, however..."

"No one doubts you, little brother." Xentalia exchanged a glance with the others. "But we don't know what's on the other end of that portal."

They stood in the clearing outside of Ka'Loen, as construction teams worked on Xentor's latest brain-child. Belryn had just left for Serpentooth with a couple apprentices, to set up another portal in the spot the Guardian had chosen.

"Aeos. This portal leads to Aeos. It can be nothing else. Do none of you see the opportunity here? The creators themselves are now a short walk from here, and you hesitate?"

"Xentor, this is foolish." Leave it to the old guard captain to knock his ideas to the ground. Of those gathered, Xenlic seemed least eager to make the journey. "If the Aeotians really are what legend suggests, don't you think they would have contacted us instead of waiting for us to stumble upon their world? Maybe they don't want visitors."

"I'm afraid I must agree with my colleague here." Xentor would have preferred not to bring Caltoren, but the man's presence would ensure that this envoy represented both sides of Xen. "This could well be a suicide mission, and yet you invite me along, and your entire royal family apart from Lord Xen himself. Should we not send a messenger first?"

Xenlic nodded to the old scientist, and Xentalia seemed to share the sentiment. Only Treloc remained silent, not anxious to stir the bad blood between him and Xentor. The younger prince, however, was not in the mood to debate this.

"Very well." Xentor paused a moment, reading each of their expressions. "Anyone who wishes to stay may do so." Without another word, he turned and walked into the portal. Before long, he heard the muttered voices of the others walking down the stone path behind him. The red-blue clouds of Trans-D space seemed to beckon them forward toward the world of the creators.

As the entrance portal snapped shut outside of Ka'Loen, a dark shape passed through the sky above. No one seemed to notice.

* * *

Trellia opened her eyes slowly, hearing metallic clinking as she tried to move. Cold steel encircled her wrists and held them together. Her rage built, and she blinked a few times to clear her vision. She seemed to be inside a small tent, lying on the bare ground. The manacles were linked by a thin chain, and another linked that to a fence post driven into the ground beside her.

Fortunately, mere metal wouldn't be enough to hold a Sentinel. She simply freed herself with her magic, and... Wait, why was she still trapped? She tried to disappear, but that wouldn't work either. Her mind leapt back to the Telthan prison cell, and her rage was replaced by fear.

A deep voice came from outside the tent, though she could barely hear it above her own quick breathing. "Hey Mavat, she's awake!"

"Good. Was starting to think Colar sold us the wrong pack of darts. She still look healthy?"

A man's head poked into the tent just long enough to get a glimpse of her, and vice versa. He looked to be middle-aged, wearing a black headband and a gray coat with sewn-in armor plates. Clearly a warrior or a mercenary, but the tattoos on his cheeks suggested that he wasn't a local.

"Yeah, she's fine. She looks like she wants to strangle me." The men outside exchanged a laugh while Trellia tested her chains, trying to pull the links apart, or rip the fence post from the ground. There were at least four or five distinct voices out there, but she thought she could outrun them, if she could only get free.

"Well, so long as we keep this inhibitor thing running, she's supposed to be helpless as a newborn." Of course. The Telthans had been selling those horrible devices to any race that wanted them, and it had made the Frame a dangerous place for a Guardian, or a Sentinel.

"Well Mavat, since we got her here... And since they're not coming to get her for a few days..." He wanted something, but she wasn't sure what.

"Yeah, sure, go ahead. But let Dalit have her first, since he was the first to tag her. Just try not to damage the goods."

As the first two men stepped into the tent, Trellia started to cry.

## * * *

The journey from Ka'Loen wasn't very arduous, but it was still further than Niven cared to travel on foot. He guessed that it would have taken several days to walk through the Dragon Forest to the next town, Serpentooth. Well, maybe only two days. Two or three, perhaps. Then again, if the weather had been poor, it may have taken longer.

He nearly bumped into a burly-looking man leaving the building, his thoughts elsewhere. Working in a forge for so long hadn't exactly left Niven a weakling, but this man easily dwarfed him. Muttering an apology, he walked inside and took the only empty table. The first tavern on the road from Ka'Loen had been completely full, and so was the second. Fortunately, the Crescent Moon had one space left for him. He wondered why some people gave him strange looks as he sat down, but just assumed they didn't trust outsiders.

It was a good thing he had come here by air, though, because it looked like it might rain tomorrow, and he wouldn't want to be caught outside in that. He sat back and watched the beautiful harpist performing on stage, and was startled when one of the serving girls came over to him.

"Something to drink, milord?" She seemed to be glancing around nervously, but he couldn't guess why.

"Just some wine, if you have it."

"Milord, this isn't that kind of tavern." The woman seemed offended, but again the reason eluded him. "Maybe you should try the Black Lamb near the western road. I believe they cater to your... kind."

Niven had no response, but his confused expression must have been noticed. The serving girl looked at him for a moment, and then smiled a little, changing her tone. "Perhaps I misheard. I'll just get you some ale."

He quickly nodded, mumbling thanks, but there were still people staring at him. As the girl turned to leave, he called her back, and then lowered his voice. "Excuse me? Why does everyone keep staring at me like that?" He indicated the other patrons, and she hesitated, as if trying to decide whether to tell him something.

"Maybe they just don't trust you, milord. I'll get your drink." She hurried off.

"Or maybe you're sitting in my seat, boy." The rough voice behind him almost made him jump out of his skin, and when he turned to see the shadowed figure standing behind him, he very nearly did.

"Y- your seat?"

"Move." It was simply a word, but even Niven could hear the veiled threat behind it. He hurriedly stood up and moved aside to let the frightening man sit down. Glancing around the room, he caught the serving girl's mischievous smile, and shot her a frown in return.

"There you are, Rotai!" Niven jumped again, but this time it was just the harpist who had come over to the table. He started to leave, ready to find another tavern, but the conversation stopped him.

"Yes, Anya, here I am. I left for a couple days, and already some boy was taking my table." He paused a moment. "Where's Trellia?"

"What? I was hoping you knew! We haven't seen her since the night you left! I sent word to Ka'Loen, but the wizard hasn't been here either." They sent word to Ka'Loen? What wizard? Did he mean Mallus, the fool magician?

The frightening man, Rotai, sighed. "Just like Xentor, never to be here when you actually need him."

Niven opened his eyes wide and turned back toward them. "You know the Slayer?" Both pairs of eyes turned to him, and he wanted to shrink down into his coat. The musician was absolutely stunning, but even her eyes were frightening now. "I... I didn't mean to listen in... But I... I saw him this morning at the building site."

The man raised an eyebrow, interested now. "He's in town, but hasn't come to see us? That's odd."

"No, milord. I... I saw him outside Ka'Loen this morning just before I left."

The woman shook her head, obviously doubting him. "You could not have been there this morning."

Rotai held up a hand to her, and she went quiet. He wanted more information. "Did he say anything to you? What's your name, boy?"

"No, milord. I just passed by him." Niven decided not to mention that he had been some distance overhead when he spotted the Slayer and his friends. "I am Niven, apprentice... Well, former apprentice to Smith Davril in Ka'Loen."

"Ah, a runaway apprentice."

"No, milord!" Niven's temper flared for a moment, but after looking into Rotai's eyes for a moment, he hastily calmed himself. "Not a runaway, milord. My master was killed in a... an accident at home." It wouldn't be right to tell these outsiders about a man being stabbed to death by his own son.

"I see. And you had no part in..." The dark man trailed off as he gazed over Niven's shoulder toward the entrance. The boy turned to see a somewhat-familiar face.

Dressed in humble merchants' garb, Belryn tried hard to blend in to the general population here. He failed miserably. He was too well-groomed to pass for a simple merchant, and his accent was all wrong. Still, he had a job to do, so he did his best. He gazed around at the faces in the tavern, looking for the one he was supposed to check on. Xentor had asked him the favor before he left, and it wasn't too much trouble just to see if the girl was here.

One face did catch his eye, though. "Niven?" He hurried over to the boy. "What are you doing here?"

"Friend of yours?" Came the rough voice of the shadowed man at the corner table.

Belryn glanced to the man, not recognizing him, and then stared at the woman beside him, flipping through the pages of his memory. "I've seen you before." Something wasn't right. "But... but not here."

The woman looked at him, looking like she was about to back away. "I rather doubt it, milord. I spend much of my time here."

The researcher smiled as he remembered, hesitation gone and confidence returning. "No, not here. It was in a desert, and then a meadow soon after." He saw her eyes widen, then extended his hand. "I am Researcher Belryn of the Xen Institute. Is the Sentinel here? I was supposed to check on her."

The woman relaxed as she shook his hand. That had to be Anya, the one who had initiated the terraforming on Xen. He supposed that would make the other man Rotai, the assassin-friend that Xentor had spoken of a couple times.

"Apparently," the assassin began, "She has been missing for two days, while I was away on business."

Belryn frowned nervously. "The Guardian won't be pleased. I left my equipment back in Ka'Loen before we ported here, so we could blend in a bit better. I won't be able to contact the Institute until my apprentices finish the portal." He realized he'd said too much, and hastily changed the subject. "She wouldn't have gone far though. I'm sure someone knows where we should start looking."

* * *

_"Tei, zha'nijo_. The Circle gathers. Let all speak as one, my brothers and sisters in time." The words of the ancient ritual echoed across the chamber and reverberated off the marble walls of the Great Temple. The mighty blaze in the center of the room subsided, leaving an ashen pit and a spider web of glowing embers. Those seated on cushions around the circumference echoed the words, as they had done for millennia.

Osseiria waited patiently for silence, still standing, and then began her address. "My brothers and sisters, hard times come upon us. We have all seen the signs of the great struggles to come, and we must act to ensure that light triumphs over the darkness."

"But which side is the light?" Kavarian always questioned her judgment, and this would be no different. "Can we be sure that the Guardians act in our interest? Have they not interfered in dimensions across half the frame?"

Osseiria calmly sat down in her place around the fire pit, taking a moment to formulate her words carefully. "The Guardians act to preserve peace, and they hold to their treaties. The Telthans and the Collective seek to subjugate and exterminate."

"And what of the other races? The Calreans and the Myconians, the Evassians and the Ban'rieli. The Tarallians—"

"The Tarallians are nothing but brigands!" Detrii called out. She was one of the younger members present in the gathering, but she was strong-willed and loud-spoken. "Warriors and mercenaries, the lot of them. They would not be missed."

Kavarian smiled, nodding politely. "Indeed, but do they not deserve a chance to grow and improve, like all sentients? I do not suggest that we turn our backs on the Guardians, only that we watch them as closely as the more obvious threats. Remember the fate that befell Telthan Prime three years ago, and recall that it was the wrath of one young girl with far too much power that caused it."

A hushed murmur spread through the gathered deities. An event like that could not be forgotten. Osseiria could not dispute that the Sentinels had been given far more magic than could be safely trusted to one individual, but she couldn't allow them to turn against what might be their only chance.

"As I recall," she began, "The Telthans have done far worse damage in those three years. Need I mention the Sitaric Brotherhood, or rather the few scattered worlds they have left? The Sentinel's single attack on Telthan Prime resulted in millions dead, yes, but how many worlds were saved in the process? Despite her power, she is the least of the four evils we now face."

There. The hook was set, and all she could do was wait for it to be pulled. She gazed around at the faces of those the lesser races called gods, trying to see how many of them would side with her, and how many would follow Kavarian's words.

"Osseiria," came his inevitable rebuttal, "I commend you for recognizing the potential for destruction that girl can cause, but the other Sentinel is long dead. That leaves only three possible enemies, unless you are withholding information from your brothers and sisters."

She took a moment to get over her surprise. Of all people, she hadn't expected Kavarian to hand this to her so clumsily. "There is a fourth, and it relates to the storm passing through the Frame. My father, Fim—"

"Your father is not a member of this gathering, and—"

"My father is of the ninth order, and has lived longer than any deity in known history!" She paused a moment, lowering her voice. Her point was made. "My father theorized that a disturbance like that could be created by traveling between Frames." The murmurs grew louder, and she held up a hand for silence. "A traveler has arrived, and I believe he presents more of a threat than the other three combined."

* * *

"Hi, I'm Orp!" The cheerful dwarf grinned at the man across the table, but received no response. After a moment, he hopped down to the floor and strolled over to the next table, while the silent man started to melt into a puddle of green liquid.

"Hi, I'm Orp!" He said as he hopped onto the next table. The two men at this table were shivering in fear, but one of them managed to fake a smile.

"Good to... to meet you. I'm Verkin. What... what can I do for you?"

"I'm so glad you asked!"

Several minutes later, Orp wandered out of the Green Fairy, his third tavern since he arrived in Serpentooth, and went looking for a fourth. He paid no attention to the screaming humans running out behind him, some of them with an appendage more or less than before. The five-legged man had said there was fun to be found in this town, and Orp intended to find it, if he had to squish every last one of these little people.

* * *

Caltoren was the last to emerge from the portal as Xentor's small party stepped onto the surface of what he claimed was Aeos. A bleak desert awaited them, sandstorms sweeping across the horizon, and bright daylight assaulting their vision despite the seeming lack of an actual sun.

Treloc pointed toward the left, at a triangular silhouette in the distance, and the five of them started off in that direction. The magic was especially weak here, and he could see that Xentor was drawing in as much as he could find. Hopefully it would be enough to travel home.

"Can you feel it, Treloc?" The young prince's words were full of awe, and he was now gazing around as they walked.

"I feel nothing but hot air and sand, Xentor."

"Then you're not looking properly. There's strong magic here, but not Xen Magic. This is the right place, however strange it seems."

"Prince Xentor?" Caltoren was tapping keys on the device he wore on his left forearm, and had a concerned look on his face. As the others turned to him, he continued. "We must leave this place, and quickly. I'm picking up... distortions. The time storm is moving faster than we calculated, and it will pass through this dimension. We must not be here when it arrives."

"We're being watched." Xenlic's words silenced them all. He was watching the barren terrain ahead, but no one was in sight.

Treloc settled his gaze on a patch of large rocks, an easy place to hide. "Behind the boulder?"

Xenlic shook his head. "Left of it. There's a slight dip in the ground. Two men are there, and I'd suspect several more behind that hill on the right. We may be surrounded."

As if on command, shapes rose from the desert, dressed in form-fitting brown and black. It looked too thin to be armor, or even to protect against the elements, but each of them also wielded a double-ended sword, as long as a quarterstaff. It reminded Treloc of a more primitive Blade Staff, but somehow it seemed threatening in the hands of these desert people.

_"Menri nen tiavol! Menri nen tiavol!"_ One of the men raised the cry, and others echoed it further off, seeming to relay it back toward the triangular shape in the distance. It didn't have the tone of a battle cry, though the men were advancing slowly.

"That language sounds familiar, doesn't it?" Xentalia seemed unconcerned with the armed men, but Treloc knew his wife, and was sure she was watching them even more closely than he. "Some of the old books use it. I believe 'menri' means stranger, but I can't recall the rest."

Xenlic stood at the front of the group, seeming completely calm. The man would look that way right up to the moment he drew his weapons and went into battle. "'Strangers are coming,' I'd wager. I think it's time we left, Xentor."

Treloc nodded his agreement, waiting for the portal to appear. Moments passed, and the men approached them, but the magic did nothing. He looked to Xentor, and saw the man lost in thought, a startled expression on his face. "Xentor?"

"I... I can hear it."

"Xentor, we need to leave! Now!" The other prince snapped out of his trance and nodded, back to normal in an instant. The portal sprang open beside them, and they hurried through into Trans-D space.

* * *

"This one's got a bit of meat on her bones, but she'd make a great little bed warmer. I could let you have her for two hundred." Belryn shook his head, and the man shrugged and led them onward.

The large forest camp was a sickening sight, not because of any waste or garbage, but because of the men and women in the wooden cages. Niven stayed at his side, playing the role of the manservant, as Belryn took the grand tour and inspected the merchandise. There was a good chance Trellia was being held here, and Rotai and Anya would have been recognized.

The researcher had wrapped his head enough to show only his eyes, hiding his face as a nobleman might do in the presence of such people, and Niven did all of the talking, lest Belryn's accent reveal him as a foreigner.

"This one is more expensive, but you can see he's strong and healthy, and—"

"My Master wishes to see young women." Niven tried to be subservient, but this place disgusted him just as much as it did Belryn. Fortunately, the tightness in his voice just made him seem more arrogant, which in turn made Belryn seem more powerful, and a more important client. Barok himself, the leader of the slavers, was personally showing them the merchandise.

"Of course. My apologies." He moved to the next cage. "We just picked this one up across the border. She hasn't been broken yet, but when we're done, she'll fetch a high price. If you want her early, I can cut that in half."

The woman in the next cage looked like she hadn't bathed in a month, but her beauty still showed through. She wasn't really that exceptional, by most standards, but Niven couldn't keep his eyes off her. Her long, blond hair was caked in mud, which also turned her fair skin almost to dark brown. He was so lost in her green eyes that he didn't notice Barok laughing until Belryn nudged him.

"I think your servant already picked his favorite!"

The researcher was glaring at Niven through the mask, and he hastily composed himself. "He... err... my Master wishes to see the rest."

"That was the last of them, unless you want to go back to the boys. Or would you like to buy your manservant one of his own?"

Belryn glanced once more at the cages around them, then shook his head and caught Niven's eyes for a moment. The apprentice blacksmith was back in his role, and nodded before turning back to Barok.

"My Master is pleased with the merchandise, but regrets that none of them met his very particular standards." He paused, as Belryn whispered in his ear. "He says he will check again in a few weeks, if it pleases you."

They made a polite departure, not about to start a fight in the middle of a gang of slavers, and accepted the hospitality of a carriage ride back to Serpentooth. Rotai and Anya were waiting in the dark alley, as they had planned.

"I couldn't get close enough to see the cages, but there were only three girls in the tents." He shook his head. He hadn't seen Trellia either.

Belryn sighed, frustrated at having wasted the day searching the wrong camp. "Well if the slavers don't have her, where could she be?"

"Well I could use a drink." Niven turned toward the mouth of the alley, to head back to the tavern, but Rotai put a hand on his shoulder.

"Stay clear of the taverns. They're not safe anymore."

"Rotai?" Anya had been silent throughout, and her soft voice now got their full attention. "There's one more person we can ask."

* * *

An owl locked eyes with Trellia as she passed beneath its tree on the hover-skiff. She tried not to look at the faces of the men who had hurt her so deeply, and now carried her off to sell her like a farm animal. She kept her arms crossed across her chest, trying to cover everything revealed by the ripped blouse, as if they hadn't seen it already, and worse.

The one now holding her, Dalit, would be the first to die, since he was the first to hurt her. Next would be Lopit and Wanim, the two flanking the skiff on horseback, followed by the oddly-named Pizat, who rode ahead on a one-man skiff. The one driving the larger vehicle, their leader, Mavat, would be last. She would make him beg for death. She would make him scream and cry. She would make him do all the things she had done.

"Hey boss," came Pizat's voice over the radio, "Let's swing around this hill to the right. The trees aren't as close together over there."

"Lead the way," the leader replied.

It was an odd procession, this mix of old-world and new-world transportation, but it did the job well. The scouting skiff zipped easily between the trees, locating a path wide enough for the main vehicle, both of them hovering about two feet from the forest floor. Sometimes they cut their own path with the beam weapons, slicing through a larger tree in only a few seconds, but most of the time they kept a low profile by carefully choosing a suitable route. The horses, of course, had no problem keeping pace, rarely going faster than a quick trot.

For a time, Trellia had been so distracted by fear and hatred that nothing else had seemed to matter, but she had pushed all of that deep inside and focused on escape. She wasn't tied or chained at the moment, but the man with his arm around her would be difficult to overcome at best. She was clearly not at her best. If she could make it out of the skiff, however, she would only have to run about twenty yards to escape the inhibitor device on the vehicle. The skiff was too large to chase her through the trees, if she chose her path well, but the dart guns they had used to capture her would still present a problem.

"Dalit!" The yell came from the horseman on the left, who was now holding the side of the skiff with one hand as he rode alongside. "Keep a good grip on her! The way she's looking around, I bet she's thinking of doing something stupid."

As a callused hand encircled both of her wrists tightly, she silently cursed herself for being so obvious. When the other hand started doing things she couldn't ignore and wished she could forget, the tears came again.

* * *

"Haven't you ever ridden a horse before?"

Belryn glared at the assassin, trying desperately to keep a hold on the reins as they galloped through the forest. "Where I come from, we have more civilized ways of travel."

"Well this is where we come from, and you had better get used to it!"

"Will you two stop your bickering?" Anya yelled from the lead horse, keeping her eyes on the three wolves that were guiding their path. It turned out the slavers had nothing to do with Trellia's capture, unless they had suddenly started traveling in metal carts without wheels. She had no idea how something like that could possibly be true, but the forestal had seemed quite sure of it. Caab was always reclusive, but the few who knew of his existence were generally treated kindly, so long as they meant no harm to his forest.

As the wolves led them around a low hill, expertly picking out paths through the trees that would let them maintain a quick pace, Rotai started to recognize the terrain.

"They must be heading for Sankasi!"

"San-what?" Niven pulled his horse up on the other side of Belryn, always snickering a bit when the strange man nearly fell off.

"Sankasi. Well, what's left of it. Used to be a city there a long time ago, so I've heard. We're heading straight to it, as best I can tell."

"Belryn, if they're like you, why wouldn't they just make one of those holes in the air? Why all this traveling?" The young man from Ka'Loen must have seen Xentor hopping around quite a bit, to take such a nonchalant attitude toward dimensional travel.

"It's not as easy as the Guardians make it look, Niven."

* * *

"Alright, so let me get this right. The Telthans are paying us three hundred marks for the job, right?"

Lopit nodded, casually looking out at the surrounding forest as he sat on top of one of the decayed buildings with Wanim.

"Well the first quarter goes to the tribe coffers, so that leaves two twenty-five. Mavat gets half of the rest for leading the operation, so that leaves a hundred twelve. Then we split that four ways—"

"Except Dalit gets five percent extra for being the primary."

"Oh right, almost forgot that part. That's about six marks extra for him, so after that we're splitting a hundred-six four ways. Twenty-six marks each isn't bad for a week's work."

"Not bad at all, Wanim. Could buy me a nice island somewhere with that." A shriek came from the prison tent, and Lopit yelled down angrily, "Hey Dalit, keep it down! Can't you gag her or something?"

"I was, 'till she bit me!" The two on the rooftop laughed, and then went back to watching the forest. They weren't expecting any visitors until tomorrow, but it never hurt to be careful.

The Sankasi ruins were in a defensible location, but not exactly a concealed one. The city itself had been located on a large hilltop, and the taller hills around it had been used as watch-posts. Now the few remaining stone bricks of the western watch hill took on a new purpose, as Rotai's small party looked down on the makeshift camp.

"I knew it. Tarallians. They'll use any tech they can get their hands on, and skiffs like those haven't been in use for years."

"Great, Belryn, but how does that help us? Do they fight well? If not, I could probably take out three of them before the last two even notice."

The assassin certainly was confident, but perhaps also reckless. "Even those outdated weapons are more than a match for us. Those things by the campfire look like old Calrean mag rifles. They'll put holes in you as wide as your thumbnail from two hundred yards away."

Niven crept up beside them, a little out of breath. "I checked from the other side, but it's just the five. Two on the roof, two by the fire, and one..." They nodded. It was fairly obvious what the fifth was doing in the tent with Trellia, but no one wanted to mention it.

"Alright, what about magic? Anya, can you do anything with that necklace of yours?"

"Nothing, Rotai. Something is pushing away all of the magic, and I think it's in the big metal... what did you call it? A skiff?"

Belryn nodded. "An inhibitor field. The Telthans have been selling them on the black market for a few years now. They're made specifically to work against Xen Magic, and it looks like that's how they're holding Trellia."

"So we get her away from that, and she can do the rest."

"Hey Pizat, we've got company." Dalit pointed to the two horses lazily picking their way up the hill toward the ruins. The sun had only been up a few hours, but the sky was clear, and they could see for miles around.

Pizat looked through the scope on his rifle and chuckled. "Couple kids. Cute girl in a cloak and a boy with a sword. Target practice?"

The other man hesitated, gazing through his own scope. "Waste of ammo. Maybe just one."

"Just can't keep it in your pants, can you, Dalit?" The man had spent hours with the prisoner last night, and had gotten a bit possessive. Wanim and Lopit were taking their turns now, probably at the same time, so Dalit was a bit restless. Still, since he was also the better marksman, they finally decided that Pizat would be the one to turn them away while his friend covered him from the roof.

The two horses came to the hilltop and paused, their riders gazing at the scenery. "See? The Ruins of Sankasi, just like I said."

"Oh, they're just lovely, Niven. Oh look, a campfire! Maybe some other people came to see them too. We should go say hello!"

Pizat stepped out from behind the nearest ruin, hiding his rifle behind his back. The skiffs were on the far side, with several structures in between, so hopefully the travelers hadn't seen them. No sense letting the natives know what was going on here. He tried to adopt one of the local accents, but had a feeling it wouldn't pass.

"You just did, milady, but we're here for a special gathering. If you two would just set up camp somewhere else, we'll be out of here by sunset, and you can visit tomorrow." He was sure Dalit would be disappointed if he didn't keep the girl here, but that would complicate the plan, and he wanted to finish this job and get paid. He did have to admit, though, she really was attractive. Even though she had her cloak wrapped tightly around her, he could still make out a decent figure.

"Dear, would you tell this man that I am not going to sleep another night in the woods until I have seen what we came here to see?" Anya gracefully slid down off her horse, still hugging her cloak tightly while the man dismounted and took both reins.

Niven gave the man a helpless shrug. "You heard the Lady. We won't get in your way, milord."

"No, you won't, because you'll be staying elsewhere. I won't warn you again." He looked the boy over, realizing they were both a bit older than they looked from the perch. The woman seemed in her twenties or early thirties, and, well, the boy still looked to be in his late teens. Curiously, he had a hilt hanging from his belt, but no sword in it. Was this a new custom? Pizat had seen people carry swords in those things, but never one walking with an empty one.

He got his answer almost immediately, because the woman had whipped open her cloak and put the point of a rapier to his neck.

"Good, because if you warn him again, I will put a hole in your windpipe. Get his weapon, Niven." The boy hastily stepped around behind Pizat, taking the mag rifle and holding it in completely the wrong manner. Pizat laughed, careful not to move.

"What's so funny?"

Before Pizat could point out the obvious, a rough voice came from behind him, along with two pairs of footsteps. "He's laughing because he thinks his friend is going to save him."

When a gray-cloaked man came into view, holding Dalit tightly with a knife to the man's throat and the other rifle slung over his shoulder, the laughing ended. "If I yell, you're all dead."

The boy examined the rifle, trying to figure out how it worked. "Actually, if you yell, you're dead. So what do we use to tie them up?"

"We only have enough rope for one." The rough voice behind him ended with a sharp crack, and the sound of a body hitting the ground. The man had killed Dalit, but maybe if he kept quiet, he would live through this. With only three of them under Mavat, his share would be that much larger.

"Rotai," the boy began, seeming confused, "We didn't bring any rope."

Trellia gasped as she heard the scream, for a moment wondering if it was hers. For the first couple days, her treatment had been more humiliating than painful. The fact that it had actually felt good had only made it worse, and served to focus her rage further. After being used like this practically day and night, though, it was nothing but pain. She had squeezed her eyes shut and tried to block it out, but the scream woke her senses, and she felt everything. The bruises from being slapped and beaten, the scrapes from being dragged along the ground, and the deeper pains in her lower body. The abuse, however, had stopped for the moment.

"Did that sound like Pizat to you?"

"Nah, probably just Dalit shooting someone. I'll check it out. Keep her warm for me, will you?" They both laughed, and the one called Wanim pulled up his pants and ducked out of the tent.

For anyone familiar with one, there was no mistaking the sound of an energy pistol being fired nearby. Lopit had just started again when he pulled away from her and leapt to his feet, just in time to see another man enter the tent.

At that moment, Belryn's face was like rapture itself, and all of her pain flowed away as she tasted a hint of freedom. She pulled against her chains, wanting to jump up and hug him, but she was unable.

Lopit tackled the man to the floor, and then rolled off limply a few seconds later, as another burst of energy left a cauterized hole in his chest. It was over in moments, and the man from the Institute seemed as shocked as his victim. He holstered the pistol and calmed himself, turning to the girl on the floor.

"We came as soon as we could, Trellia. We almost couldn't find you. At first we thought the slavers had captured you, but—"

He stopped talking when he realized she was pulling at the chains. She could barely breathe, let alone talk, after the treatment she had endured, but some gestures are universal, and "Shut up and get this off me," is easily understood even without words.

"Right, sorry." Belryn knelt down beside her and examined the manacles, trying to find a way to release them. They seemed to be locked and unlocked with a key, and using the energy pistol to melt through would harm her even more. He only had her faint gasp as a warning to look back at the entrance flap.

"You saved me a great deal of money today. Too bad you'll have to die." The bearded man, Mavat, tossed a metal key to Belryn, his mag rifle tucked under the other arm and aimed at the scientist's head. "Now bring the girl outside. The Telthans are here for her."

Mavat tossed the energy pistol aside as they left the tent, the half-naked girl cradled in the other man's arms. It was clearly more advanced than his mag rifle, but it was never wise to depend on an unfamiliar weapon. For all he knew, it could be booby-trapped.

The other two men were already in custody, each one standing in front of one of the humanoid Telthan soldiers, a plasma rifle to their backs. The Telthans themselves rarely left their home planets, but Mavat had at least expected his liaison, Cyari to come in person. Instead only seven lightly-armored soldiers had come through the portal to take the girl back with them.

Did it really matter though? The payment had already been delivered to his tribe, and he would take his share upon returning home. "Here she is, just like I promised."

The most decorated of the soldiers, and seemingly also the youngest, frowned. "She does not look well. Has she been mistreated?"

The mercenary shrugged, smiling. "Cyari said she wanted the girl intact. Never said anything about not roughing her up a bit. She's alive, isn't she?"

Throughout the brief exchange, Trellia looked around frantically, knowing this might be her last chance to escape. She was too weak to even stand, but she had friends here. She recognized Rotai, of course, but the boy with him was a stranger. She looked over at the discarded pistol, just in time to see a female hand reach out from behind the tent to grab it. No one else seemed to notice. Who was it, though? Whoever it was, they would be lucky to get one shot off before the soldiers returned fire, and there was only one target that mattered. She had known it from the first time she woke up in captivity. The inhibitor device.

Rotai stood quietly, surveying the situation as best he could with a weapon pointed at his back. They had stripped him of most of his weapons, but the only ones left were the throwing knives in his boots that would take too long to reach. He had heard two sounds that had to be Belryn's pistol, but only one body lying outside the tent. The other one had to be inside, or the fourth man would have come out with the others. Only the leader remained, but now there were seven Telthan soldiers to deal with.

Fortunately, Anya hadn't followed them into the camp. He had gotten glimpses of her sneaking around the edges of the ruins, and knew she was behind the tent with the pistol, but one shot wouldn't help against this many. At that moment, he noticed Trellia staring at him, trying to gesture with her eyes. She then looked off to the side, and he followed her gaze. She had seen Anya as well, and knew what had to be done. As Mavat and the soldier started to haggle over a reduced price due to damaged cargo, as they called it, Rotai realized what the girl was trying to tell him.

Anya fumbled with the energy pistol, trying to figure out what the various buttons did. She recognized aiming sights and a trigger similar to the ones on crossbows, but the rest was a mystery. She knew it was up to her to do something, but she didn't know what. Whatever it was, if she made a mistake, she doubted there would be a second chance. She had counted seven men in armor, along with the last of the men who had captured Trellia. She could shoot one of them, but which?

Peeking carefully around the corner of the tent again, she saw the back of Belryn's head. Past that, she could clearly see Rotai looking straight at her. Why would he do that? He would give away her location! Wait, he was trying to get her attention. No, now he was subtly indicating the last kidnapper. But why? There were eight men with weapons, and killing him wouldn't help at all.

She shook her head, but he indicated the same man again. Then he looked at Trellia, and she understood. She silently sang a peaceful melody in her mind, calling up her magic. She couldn't actually use any of it here, but she could roughly see the borders of the inhibitor field, and guess where the center would be. It wasn't centered on the skiff anymore, but on that man. When he turned toward the tent, and toward her, she noticed a bit of metal peeking out from his half-buttoned shirt. She fired.

The sound of the energy pistol was like the starting pistol at a race track. The pulse of energy struck the center of Mavat's chest, hurling him back several feet and leaving a smoking hole where his lungs used to be. Rotai spun like lightning, knocking the rifle away from his back and delivering a punch to the soldier's face that sent him straight to the ground. Niven tried to do the same, but instead took a rifle butt to the face and went to the ground himself.

Then it got worse. The first plasma rifle fired, aimed perfectly at Rotai's head. There was no time to dodge it, and no way to survive the hit. No way except one.

The burst of plasma struck an invisible barrier and dissipated. So did the next. The Telthans were all firing, but hitting nothing but air. It was only a moment before he snapped his gaze to Trellia, who was watching them all carefully, sweat beading on her forehead. Rotai knew little of her capabilities, but one look at her pained expression told him that she was at her limit. She had been used and abused for days, and this was all she had left. In a few moments, the barriers would fall and they would all be killed.

Until a bright red hole burst open in the air and a cloaked figure emerged, Rotai hadn't realized he was holding his breath. He hadn't realized that Anya had been shooting her pistol straight up, sending bursts of yellow light into the sky. He had been waiting to die, like a foolish amateur, and now he would be rescued himself.

Two rifles turned on the Guardian immediately, but it was a pointless gesture. The first two bursts of plasma struck another barrier, and the second pair never came. The weapons crumpled, as if crushed by unseen hands, and the Telthan soldiers suddenly locked their hands at their sides, standing so stiffly at attention that even a fool could have realized that they were being held there.

"It's about time you showed up, Xentor!" Rotai was glad to see the man, but nearly getting killed did tend to spark one's temper.

"I am not omniscient. I came when I saw the signal. Trellia, are you alright?" The girl nodded weakly, and the red-cloaked mage breathed a sigh of relief. "Take her back to Serpentooth, and don't let her out of your sight. I'll deal with the prisoners." Another hole opened in the air, this one showing another part of the forest, presumably one near the town.

"Don't you want to take her back with you? They took her once. They may try again."

"They tried and failed. It will be some time while they plan their next move. Anya, you will take care of her, I trust?"

"Of course, milord."

As the four of them stepped through the portal, Belryn still carrying Trellia, they heard an explosion in the distance.

## * * *

"Hi, I'm Orp! My friends call me—"

"So what, you're going to kill me now?"

The little dwarf hesitated, not used to that sort of response. Was that what he was going to do? It seemed like it would be fun, but he had killed dozens already, and was still bored.

"Why are you killing people anyway?" The man at the table spoke boldly, though other patrons watched in fear. He was dressed like a rich merchant, but scars showed that he had seen his share of combat. "Just because you have some magic, you think it's alright to go on a murder spree?"

"Some magic? Nobody has more magic than me! I can do anything I want, and if I want to kill people, then—"

"I remember a boy who came through here a few years ago. He had magic like yours, but he didn't hurt anyone with it."

Orp gritted his teeth angrily and slammed his little fists on the table. "No one has magic like mine! I am all-powerful! Give me his name, and I'll show him what real power is!" The whole tavern had gone quiet, many eyeing the door.

"Go ahead. I hear he's buried in the woods outside of town. Nothing you can do to him now. Even people with magic like yours can die, Orp."

"Give me his name!" The dwarf was furious now, and even the merchant had gone silent, grabbing at his neck to loosen some unseen noose. "His name, or you die!" The man's face started to turn a nice shade of purple.

"R... r..." A deafening thunderclap rolled through the tavern, despite the clear blue skies. "Rik..." A second came, and people started looking toward the windows.

"Stop that!" The dwarf screamed upward, and the rumbling of the thunder cut off instantly. "Give me his name!"

"R... Rikket." There was a sharp crack, and the merchant's head faced backward. The dwarf hopped off the table and walked happily out of the tavern without another word.

* * *

"I can't heal her if she won't let me touch her." Anya sighed, sitting dejectedly in the common room of the Ivory Tusk, one of the lesser-known inns of Serpentooth. Rotai had insisted that the taverns had become dangerous, but the Tusk simply offered rooms, and its common room was merely a few soft chairs around a fireplace.

"I know, Anya. Give her time. If she changes her mind, Belryn will let us know."

The innkeeper, lounging in one corner with a book, opened his eyes wide as a point of red light sprang open into a portal. A dark alley showed behind the red-cloaked figure who stepped through.

"Where is she, Rotai?"

The assassin didn't even look at the portal, but merely kept his gaze on the fireplace, and on Anya. "Upstairs. Belryn is watching her, and I sent Niven off to fetch some food. How did you find us so quickly?

"I have my ways."

Anya stared straight at the Guardian, concerned about something else. "What did you do with the prisoners?" Even Rotai turned to him at that, curious himself, though not about to admit it. A moment of silence passed as the man considered his response.

"Perhaps I sent them home unharmed, or perhaps I freed them from Telthan control. On the other hand, I may have executed them. Does it really matter?"

Xentor's cold, uncaring voice sent a shiver down Anya's spine, but she just mutely shook her head. They may have been the enemy, but they were still human beings, or at least something similar. Was he really that dead inside?

"Oh good, you found the place." Niven had walked in, carrying a small basket of food. "Rotai, I found some fruit and..." He trailed off, noticing the tense mood in the room. "Right, so I'll just bring these upstairs." He backed away a couple steps, and then did exactly that.

Rotai seemed amused, looking back to the fire. "You certainly have your ways, wizard." The room was silent for a few long moments, and they both looked back at Xentor. He was staring at nothing, as if stunned, his eyes flickering with a red glow. "Something wrong? Xentor?"

"Milord?" Anya shared a concerned look with Rotai, waiting nervously for some word from the wizard.

Belryn came quietly down the stairs to see two pairs of eyes staring at a stunned Guardian, and paused a moment before speaking. "Am I interrupting something?"

The red glow vanished from Xentor's eyes, and he snapped back to alertness. His gaze jumped to Belryn. "Finish the portal quickly, while the magic remains. I'll check on the progress at Ka'Loen." He was all business now, giving orders like a general. His gaze fell on Rotai and Anya next. "Do what you can for my niece, and see that she's watched at all times. She will be vulnerable soon, and I will not allow any harm to befall her."

"Is there something wrong, Xentor?" Rotai's voice was calm, and there was even a hint of nervousness. Anything that spooked the Guardian was something to worry about.

"Yes." A portal sprang open behind him, and he was gone.

* * *

Kirelle carefully clipped her Mistress's dress to the clothesline with the others, nearly finished with her daily chores. If she cooked the evening meal quickly, she would still have time to attend the weekly gathering. She was just about to go back inside, when a booming sound reached her ears. She looked out toward the forest, and saw black smoke rising in the distance. She touched her thin braid reverently. It was the sign.

Tolani crept quietly through the forest, an arrow knocked to his longbow. The deer was drinking quietly at the stream, a perfect target. With the utmost care and silence, he drew the arrow back to his ear, sighting a perfect line to the animal's flank. The butchers would pay well for such rich venison, and he would eat well tonight. Just then, a booming sound startled the deer, and it sprinted off into the bushes before he could loose. After a quick jog to a hilltop, he looked out to the north and saw black smoke rising from the treetops. He touched the thin braid he wore in his hair, and he smiled. It was time.

Patiel carefully arranged the merchandise on the shelves, so that it looked beautiful for the customers. He knew how important it was for everything to be beautiful, and like the Children of Daco, his store was beautiful. He honored his god in this manner, and would continue to do so until the sign came, and the Children could gather at their new home. This, his god had foretold, and so it would be. As he propped open the front door, he heard a booming sound that stopped the pedestrians for a moment. Black smoke rose in the distant forest. It was the sign.

* * *

The empty construction site was exactly what Xentor had hoped to see, and he walked quickly into town to visit his new base of operations. A small crowd had gathered in the center of Ka'Loen, to watch the magician perform tricks and make lights dance in the air. It would have been a beautiful show at night, but daylight made it merely amusing. Why would Mallus waste his talents in this manner? What was the point of making a few people happy, when there was so much else going on? Xentor shook his head, chiding himself. These people had no idea what was going on, of course. They lived their lives happily, and the problems of the Frame passed them by.

Something was wrong, though. The Guardian moved silently through the throng, watching the show carefully. He recognized that magic, but he could not believe it. The currents of magic looked like something he had seen before. Something he had seen on Aeos.

A short time later, the show ended and the crowd dispersed. His trip through the portal had been delayed, because this had now become more urgent. Could Mallus really be one of the Aeotians?

"So, Guardian," the old man began, even before Xentor had greeted him, "Your magic is leaving you?" After only a moment's pause, he continued. "You have so many problems and so few solutions. It must be difficult for you. A war is pressing against your side, a storm is tearing through the Frame, and now a new threat has arrived, greater than either."

"So it's true. You are one of the Creators?" He could barely utter the words, shocked that the old man he had known for a century could possibly be one of the all-powerful Aeotians.

The man went on, as if the question had not been asked. "Perhaps these are not three problems, but two. Perhaps the Time Storm, as your people call it, is not some random event. It seems an odd coincidence that it should strike directly at Aeos, and then at your home planet. Yes, that is why your magic is fading, and that is where you must look for answers."

Mallus stepped into his shop, turning to face Xentor through the doorway. "Just remember that the worst danger is neither the Telthans nor the Time Storm. That danger lies northwest of here in Serpentooth."

The door closed, and the Guardian stood there, stunned. His friend for over a hundred years was actually one of the legendary Aeotians, a race that most intelligent people didn't even believe existed. He didn't dare try to enter the shop, despite the hundreds of questions he wanted to ask, for this was a man whose magic dwarfed his own. The Aeotians, legend had it, were the true gods, both omniscient and omnipotent. Then again, the lesser races thought the same of their own gods, and that was far from the truth.

Regardless, the Aeotian had given him a path, and he had no choice but to follow it. If the Time Storm had really struck Xen, had it destroyed the magic completely? Had anyone escaped? His father? His sister? Trellia and Belryn were safe on this world, but were they the only survivors?

* * *

"You're... free now." Darkness. Then light came. Everything was blurred and less than real. What happened? What was he talking about? Who was free?

"See? That wasn't so hard. Now get out of here before I decide to set you on fire." A cheerful voice was coming from right beside him, but all he could see there was a blur. A flash of light came from the other side, but it was gone in a moment.

"Who... who are you? Where am I? Is this the afterlife?" He hadn't believed in such a thing, but he knew he had been dead. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew. He was dead, and then he was alive. How had he died, though? All he had were bits and pieces of memories. An image of a tree. His mother's smiling face. A girl in a pale pink coat. A man sitting in the shadows.

"Hmm, well, technically this is after your old life, so I guess this is the afterlife. Isn't it nice to be alive again?"

"Alive... again? That's not possible." The blur was starting to come into focus. The voice was coming from a short man. No, he was a _very_ short man, with a frightening grin on his face. He was holding something, but it wasn't clear what it was.

"Oh sure, that's what they want you to think. Well, you're alive again. Did he really think you were as powerful as me?" The little man laughed hysterically. "I'll have to show him my new toy! Oh wait, I killed him already. Well, you're still my new toy!"

He felt metal against his neck, and heard a lock snapping shut. He belonged to this little man now. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew.

* * *

Gateway Palace was no technological marvel, and it was not some amazing magical feat. It was simply a practical combination of magic and technology that served a practical purpose. Devices called _repulsors_ , which Xentor did not understand, somehow kept the entire structure floating a mile above the surface, also providing interior lighting and some common conveniences. Magic supplied running water and food as needed, in addition to powering the focal point of the structure.

The Gateway Portal itself was on one side of what he simply called the common room. Perhaps he had spent too much time on Earth after all. The circular room had curved staircases on the east wall, leading up and down. The portal dominated the west wall, and a simulated fire burned under the table in the center, surrounded by soft couches. He had intended it to be a quiet and peaceful resting place, and so it was furnished simply in dark wood paneling, to make it seem "cozy."

With sleeping rooms upstairs and the slightly-embellished Viewing Room downstairs, it was not a large structure. It was the Portal that gave it importance, and for that matter, its name.

Xentor knew all of this, because he had designed it. He knew every wall and every piece of furniture. He knew everything about Gateway Palace and what it contained. It was for this reason that he was so surprised when he arrived for the first time to find six people waiting for him.

His sister, Xentalia, was beautiful as always, despite her sad expression. Her husband, Treloc, stared at the simulated fire, deep in thought. The other three were more at ease. Caltoren, the leader of the Xen Institute, sipped wine with his former apprentice and the old Guard Captain, Xenlic.

"Welcome, little brother. I hope you didn't mind us dropping by, but I'm afraid we couldn't stay home any longer." The others turned to see Xentor arriving through the hub of what he called the portal "web."

"Yes, I know. Did anyone else make it out in time?"

"Some of the Guardians were out on missions, as always. A hundred, perhaps two, might have been far enough away." She paused, holding back tears. "Father..." She shook her head.

Xenlic stepped over to them, his expression calm, and his manner as regal as a king. "Lord Xen and ArchSorcerer Relvar elected to stay behind, as did many of the other Guardians. There wasn't time to save the others. The Head Researcher was merely fortunate enough to be meeting with Lord Xen when we saw the first signs."

The other prince, now no longer it seemed, turned from the fire. "Fenid, Akto, and Elly were helping the Sitari refugees on Sitex Three. Javin and Seiril were visiting their parents on the Calrean home world. Several dozen of our strongest were patrolling various parts of the Telthan borders, and many more were traveling among the other races. It's hard to keep an accurate count." Xentalia put a hand on her husband's to comfort him, for he always took the loss of any Guardians personally.

Xentor nodded, but felt nothing. He regretted losing his father and mentor, but the others were just a number. There was no sympathy or sense of loss anymore. He instead turned to the sixth visitor, a gray-skinned man with a large head and dark eyes.

"This is Voa, as he calls himself in our language, of the Uranans, as I'm sure you realize." Xenlic smiled, nodding respectfully to the alien. "When we saw the storm coming, we ported to Eksis, and the magic was already fading there. Voa was there on business, and offered us a ride. His ship is parked in orbit."

After considering the situation for a moment, he nodded to Xenlic and turned to the Uranan. "We may require another ride, if it would not be a problem. We must return to Xen. The storm is gone, and the source of our problem lies there."

## * * *

She pulled frantically against the steel chains, trying to get free of the horrible men as they ravaged her. Her wrists bled as the manacles cut into her skin, yet she still struggled. She could smell his breath as he—

Trellia woke up in a cold sweat, fighting to control her breath. The images were still clear in her mind, and every sensation bathed her in hatred. She sat up slowly, her joints still aching, and looked at her wrists as if hoping the nightmare was only a figment. The partly-healed cuts stared back at her, and every movement reminded her that it was all too real.

There was another discomfort she had rarely felt in the past three years, and this one surprised her more than the rest. She was hungry. Apart from the days spent with the Tarallians, trapped within their inhibitor field, she had been able to use her magic to keep herself fed and healthy. Something was wrong, and she couldn't concentrate on anything but the emptiness within her.

Pushing aside the sheets, she stripped off her tattered clothing, and reluctantly dressed in the outfit Anya had left for her. A shade of dark red, and cut a bit lower than she liked, the dress was exactly the kind of clothing she had tried to avoid. She had been teased for dressing like a man, but why bother with a dress when a shirt and pants were so much more practical?

The door opened quietly, and she slipped out of the room, ignoring the boy who snoozed in a chair in the hallway. So they had left Niven to watch her? She didn't need watching. With her magic, she could take care of herself.

That was the problem, though. Where was her magic? She couldn't feed herself, she couldn't open a portal, and she couldn't disappear. These things, she tried on the way down the stairs. She couldn't conjure new clothes, as she discovered while walking through the deserted common room, and she couldn't heal herself. All of those things she had taken for granted now seemed impossible, and none of them solved the problem of her rumbling stomach.

The walk through the streets of Serpentooth was uneventful, apart from the stares she received from the village men. She fired back her own glares, filled with hate and loathing, and they quickly backed away, only to be replaced by more. Her powers were known here, but the men clearly knew something had changed. Her long, brown hair was a mess, her face was cut and bruised, and she was wearing a dress, of all things. The fear started to rise within her, and she wondered what she would do if any of these men tried to assault her. She couldn't harm them, but they could easily harm her.

Thankfully, she made it to the Crescent Moon without so much as a confrontation, opting for a familiar place, and hoping someone was willing to give her something to eat. She had never had any need for money, but things had certainly changed.

The common room of the tavern was sparsely-populated, but none of the serving girls came around to the table she chose. She waited for a time, watching for them, but though they noticed her, they ignored her. Of course, they knew her here, and knew she could make her own food and drink. They only tolerated her presence because she was a friend of Rotai and Anya.

Finally, one of them noticed her persistent stares and her nervous look, and came over to the table.

"Something wrong, mage? You look like you were run down by a horse." Jalee had worked here as long as Trellia had been on this world, and she wasn't exactly the nicest of them.

"I... I need something to eat."

"Oh, so you're not going to hocus pocus up some food for everyone? I have better things to do than play your games, girl." The woman started to turn away, but Trellia reached out and grabbed her arm, perhaps a bit more roughly than she had intended.

"Please... No games..." Something in her pained expression must have been convincing enough, because Jalee nodded before walking back to the kitchen. A short time later, she returned with a plate of meat and greens, and a glass of water.

"When you're done eating," Jalee said as she slid the plate onto the table, "Meet me in the kitchen and I'll set you to work on the dishes."

Trellia opened her eyes wide, opening her mouth to object, and the plate was pulled away.

"If you can't feed yourself anymore, I'm guessing you won't be snapping your fingers and making some coin to pay for this, so if you want to eat, you can work for it like everyone else."

* * *

The Uranan transport _Kei'tona've_ landed quietly in an open courtyard, crushing several flower beds and hedges. A trading vessel was often a target for pirates and raiders, even in friendly territory, and an invisibility field was invaluable to a merchant like the one they called Voa.

Xentor stepped carefully down the ramp to the grass, appearing out of mid-air as he left the short radius of the field that hid the ship from prying eyes. Xenlic emerged a moment later, followed by Treloc, Xentalia, and the two scientists. They were an unimpressive lot, but this was their home planet, and as ridiculous as it might have seemed, they were the rightful rulers of Xen.

This, however, was not the Xen they knew as home. The magic side of the planet, once covered in rich greenery and only spotted with small villages, was now an immense metropolis with buildings so tall they reached the sky itself. It dwarfed even the staggering development Xentor remembered seeing on Telthan Prime, before it was wiped out. The similarities between the two were a bit disconcerting, though. Nearly-identical square buildings were spaced at perfect intervals. Wide, tiled pedestrian walkways spanned the areas between them, lined with hedges and well-maintained decorative plants. Here and there, a grassy area took the place of a building, but fortunately for the _Kei'tona've_ , few were in use.

The similarities with Telthan Prime fortunately ended with the architecture, for the people were diverse and relatively happy. These weren't brainwashed masses, walking robotically toward their next destination. These were free people, chatting with companions and greeting acquaintances as they went about their lives. Men and women in black uniforms stood at some corners, probably some sort of peacekeepers, but none of them seemed to have anything to do.

The six of them may have looked similar to the general population, since they had left Voa in the ship, but their clothing gave them away. Two men in red cloaks, a woman in a regal-looking white dress, an old man in a lab coat, a younger man in merchant's clothes, and a gruff soldier whose light metal armor was covered with weapons. They were indeed a mismatched crew, and several of the peacekeepers had noticed.

"Something we can do for you folks?" One of them spoke as two others moved in around them. The men in the black uniforms wore only short sticks on their belts, and acted friendly enough, but they had the demeanor of men trained in combat.

"No, thank you. We are merely visiting." Xentor kept his words simple and to the point, not wanting any trouble yet.

"Visiting anywhere in particular?" The man's voice was calm, but hinted of suspicion. Perhaps foreigners weren't welcome here.

"Perhaps. Did there used to be a desert here?" He was sure that this spot used to be near the center of the Great Desert, but clearly something had changed.

"A desert? Not that I know of."

"Wait, Mack," One of the other peacekeepers spoke up, and the visitors turned to him. "He's right. Remember that pre-civ history class? Before they built the palace, where the gov lives now, this place was all a wasteland."

"Yeah, I remember that class. It was right after mythology, which says a whole lot. Might as well start believing those silly tales about King Relvar and the Wizards of Ka'Loen! See? Even these folks are laughing about it!"

Even Xentor was indeed laughing at that, as were his companions. Thousands of years must have passed here, for stories like that to be considered false mythology, and leave it to his old mentor to go out in style. Ka'Loen indeed! Relvar had always said Xentor was his favorite student, and he had left a fitting tribute.

"Never thought he'd stoop to being a king," the old soldier laughed. That comment quieted the peacekeepers, as they exchanged glances and tried to understand.

"Our father must have passed," Xentalia added. "I hope he did so peacefully."

"Wait a tick." The first peacekeeper was clearly suspicious now, and all three were keeping one hand close to the sticks on their belt. "Who are you folks? Where did you come from?"

"Ah, of course!" Xentor looked over his shoulder, seeing Caltoren tapping buttons on his bracer. "These buildings are all Xianite composites, and I believe that one," He pointed to a shorter, but more richly decorated structure, "Is sitting right atop the pedestal." That much Xianite could, it seemed, block the magic completely. There was only one solution.

"We are travelers from afar," the Guardian began, as he turned back to the peacekeeper, "And we heard of an ancient stone formation that used to exist in this area. How would we gain entrance to that building to study it?"

"You think you're going to just walk right into the palace?"

"Mack, these guys are nuts. Let's just take them in." Their hands took hold of the sticks on their belts, which promptly lit up. They were some kind of technological weapons, but they were out of their league.

Xentor reacted in a flash, snatching the metal cylinder from his belt and extending the six-foot Blade Staff horizontally in front of him in a threatening posture. The metallic whisking as the weapon extended was joined by that of four others. Xenlic held one in each hand, facing the last peacekeeper who had spoken. Treloc had turned to the silent one, already in a defensive stance, and even the fair Princess Xentalia was ready for battle, her Blade Staff held vertically in both hands.

"We don't want to hurt anyone. We only wish to enter the palace and see the stone, as I said." His voice was calm and cold, but his eyes were dangerous.

"No one enters the palace without authorization! Look, backup will be here any tick now, and it'll be better for you if you just surrender the weapons and come quietly." The peacekeeper trembled slightly, perhaps not as much of a fighter as they had suspected, but he kept his voice calm, and kept his hand on his weapon.

"Prince Xentor, there are more coming. We cannot defeat them all." Xenlic spoke truly, as metal vehicles were approaching from above, complete with flashing lights and annoying noises.

"Agreed. Caltoren, let Voa know we're coming." With that cryptic statement, hopefully not understood by the peacekeepers, Xentor started to back away, toward the grassy clearing where the _Kei'tona've_ was hidden. The others followed his lead, and the peacekeepers carefully stayed a few feet distant, not ready to act without support. The vehicles grew closer, and the party fled.

Retracting their staffs, the six of them ran from the peacekeepers, who hesitated a moment before beginning their pursuit. It was all the time they needed, for before the vehicles could land and open their doors, the Guardians and their companions had vanished into thin air. As the peacekeepers gathered in confusion, a faint whirring sound was heard. Then it was gone.

* * *

The new serving girl in the Crescent Moon Tavern was a quick learner, and never had to be told something more than once. She had been reluctant to work at first, but had eventually resigned herself to the menial labor. Jalee had at first found it amusing that the girl who had amazed everyone with her powers was now just another tavern wench. After working with her for a couple days, however, she could see that the girl wasn't entirely helpless when reduced to normality.

Trellia had admitted that her all-powerful magic had vanished for no apparent reason, and Jalee almost pitied the loss. To her, it seemed like getting used to having a job and a house of your own, and then having it all taken away. It still felt like poetic justice in a way, but it wasn't as funny as it had seemed.

Trellia's friend, the assassin, hadn't been seen in several days, and neither had Anya, the woman who was supposed to perform nightly. Jalee suspected they were staying clear of the taverns to avoid the dwarf, as had most of the wiser folk. Business was slower than usual, but there was still enough to get by.

After only a few hours of dishwashing, Jalee had decided Trellia's talents were being wasted there. She had passed the task to another and set the magic girl to serving the patrons. It hadn't been difficult to find more fitting attire, since a serving girl in a bright red dress would draw far too much of the wrong kind of attention. A bit of work on the hair and a bit more to conceal the cuts and bruises had made her presentable enough, and now Trellia served food and drinks in the common room for less than half the pay the other girls were receiving. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

The sound of a shattering plate distracted Jalee from her train of thought, and she sighed and headed out to the common room. The girl did everything perfectly, and never forgot an order, but she kept reacting violently whenever anyone touched her. Clearly she had been through something recently, but Jalee had the decency not to pry. Hopefully she would calm down in another day or two, before she broke more dishes than the reduced pay could compensate.

"I'm sorry," the girl replied, when Jalee had taken her to the kitchen to reprimand her. "I... I just stumbled."

"Don't lie to me, Trellia. The guy touched you, and you jumped, right?" She waited for the sullen nod. "You need to get over that, or I'll put you back on washing." The girl shivered, as expected, remembering the pain. However much she tried to conceal it, the girl had some not-quite-healed cuts on her wrists, and the soapy water was painful for her. That was the real reason Jalee had taken her away from there and set her on waiting tables.

"I know... I'm sorry... I'm trying." She clearly meant it.

Jalee slowly reached a hand to Trellia's shoulder, but the girl jerked away. They met eyes for a moment, and she tried again, holding her there gently. The girl was clearly having trouble staying still, but it was a start.

* * *

The sun had dipped below the horizon, and the last bits of light were fading from the sky. Rotai crouched atop the low roof, watching the entrance of the Black Lamb Tavern. He didn't like to leave Trellia alone, with only the careless boy to watch her, but rooms cost money, and money meant taking more jobs.

His target was a wealthy merchant who traveled frequently between Serpentooth and Harinth. The client had said that the merchant tended to spend his nights at the Black Lamb, and had specified that he should be killed with a knife through the heart. It was an odd request, but not a problem for one as skilled as Rotai.

It wasn't long before the man emerged. He removed his wide-brimmed hat with more caution than should have been necessary, and he had with him a young woman who—

"You made a mistake."

She gasped almost audibly, and silently began to pray that she might live through this. "I... I did?"

"Last night you stole a large purple gemstone from an old man. He has hired me to retrieve it." At this, the man slowly extended his hand, palm up. She hesitated only a moment, and then reached under her cloak and pulled the gemstone from her pocket. She reached forward carefully, and placed it in the man's waiting hand. Perhaps she would walk away from this after all.

He walked quietly over to the girl's body and pulled the dagger from her back, using her own cloak to wipe off the blood. She was breathing, but her breaths were shortening and slowing. He looked into her eyes and sighed, shaking his head in a chastening gesture.

"One mistake."

Rotai snapped back to the present, watching the target walk into the alley with the young woman. Was it really the same girl? He knew he had killed her before. He had seen the dagger through her. He had seen the blood pooling beneath her. He had heard her breathing stop. No, it couldn't be her. His mind was just playing tricks on him.

The man emerged from the alley alone, continuing down the street. Rotai nimbly dropped to the ground, shadowing him carefully and waiting for the perfect opportunity. He knew of three inns in this direction, but all of them were full tonight. Clearly the man wasn't going to an inn. Perhaps he had stayed at the Black Lamb, though he had thought their rooms were just for show, since every night he had been there, they had all been vacant.

The target turned into another dark alley, of which Serpentooth had so many, and Rotai quickly followed him in. The man had stopped halfway through, and the assassin knew he had been seen. Perhaps he was losing his touch.

"I almost didn't see you." His voice was confident. The man was probably hiding a weapon.

"I'm surprised you did." Rotai was equally confident. He was hiding a number of weapons, and he was ready to use them.

"I have excellent night vision." The man turned, and his eyes seemed to be glowing yellow, the rest of him silhouetted against the moonlight at the far end of the alley.

"I see that." He watched the form carefully, seeing how the man shifted ever so slightly, guessing how fast the man would be able to move. He was quick, but perhaps not so agile.

"How much is he paying you? I would double it, if you were to report my demise while I left town."

"I'm afraid not. I have a reputation to uphold."

"Of course you do. I, however, would prefer not to have to kill—"

The man's sentence was cut short as one of Rotai's knives plunged into the center of his chest. The quick, underhanded throw had, as intended, caught the man completely by surprise. As the man fell to the ground, too shocked to even scream, Rotai calmly drew another knife and crouched down beside him. The man still clung to his last moments of life, but he was not breathing at all.

As he casually slit the man's throat and let him bleed out, he looked around, wondering what happened to the girl. He held no malice against her, since the job was long since over, but if that was really her, then he needed to know how she still breathed. Or did she?

* * *

"Hi, what can I get you?" The serving girl's smile was fake, and her voice was more sullen and submissive than friendly.

"Some fruits and greens would do nicely. Per chance, do you know if anyone is hiring magicians in this town?"

The girl hesitated, but only shrugged. "I'm afraid I don't know, milady. What kind of magician?"

"I specialize in fire." She held out her hand, and a ball of fire floated above her palm. When she spoke of specialization, it was an understatement. Every spell she knew dealt with fire, and she had even taken up a new name to signify this. "I am called Pylerra."

The serving girl smiled a bit, but the slight gasp and wide-eyed stare she usually expected was absent. "I'm Senti... I'm Trellia. That's a strange name."

"My old name didn't seem fitting anymore." She hesitated as a very short man walked into the tavern with a ridiculous grin on his face. The serving girl quickly hurried back to the kitchen, and Pylerra sat quietly to watch the dwarf.

"Hi, I'm Orp, and you can..." The dwarf trailed off as he watched one of the serving girls walk away.

"I can what, little man?" The oaf across the table from him clearly wasn't properly afraid, but Orp had other things on his mind.

"You can tell me who that girl was."

"Why should I care, you little twerp?" The man started to choke, as if someone was strangling him, and grabbed at the unseen hands to try to pull them off. "Alright, alright! That's the new girl, Trellia! She used to be a mage or something, but now she works here!"

Orp was about to thank the man and kill him, but the girl came back out of the kitchen, and he quickly stopped choking him. Women tended to not like it when you squished people, and he didn't want to scare her away.

The girl brought a plate of fruits and vegetables over to a woman in the corner, then came over to Orp's table.

"Hi, what can I..." She looked at Orp, hesitating as if seeing something strange. When she continued, her voice was full of fear. "What can I get you?"

Drat, he had already scared her away. He would have to be extra nice. "Oh, I'll just have some water, and I think my good friend here could use some too." He smiled brightly, and when he glanced at the man across the table, he hastily nodded agreement.

"Um, alright. Is... Is everything ok here?" She looked at the man, who was smart enough to keep his hands away from his neck and nod, then nodded herself and headed back to the kitchen.

"Wow, she's cute! Do you think she likes me?" The other man fainted.

"Calm down, Trellia. Get a hold of yourself. What's the problem?" The new girl was nearly hyperventilating as Jalee held her steady in the kitchen.

"It's him. The dwarf they keep talking about."

Well, that explained her fear. "It's alright. Just keep calm and be nice to him. He's never hurt any of the serving girls before, and he doesn't always kill someone."

"It's not just that. He... He has more magic than I've ever seen before. More than I had, I think."

"Well, you know what they say. There's always somebody better. Just bring him his water and be nice to him."

Jalee sighed as Trellia went back into the common room. Hopefully the dwarf wouldn't kill anyone today, especially her. It was true that he'd only killed other patrons so far, but it was still dangerous to be seen by the little man. She wished he wouldn't come here again, but they couldn't exactly stop him. Fortunately, Jalee would be safe in the kitchen until he was long gone.

"I'm Orp! My friends call me Orp, and you can call me Orp!" Well, he certainly was friendly. Trellia carefully placed the water glasses on the table, careful not to comment on the unconscious man slumped in the other chair. She decided he was better off unconscious than dead, and it wouldn't be smart to draw attention to him.

"I'm Trellia. It's nice to meet you. Is there anything else I can get for you?" She managed to keep her voice calm, and tried to be as friendly as possible, despite being terrified of him.

"You could sit with me for a while!" The other chair suddenly slid away to another table, and an empty one replaced it. The man remained unconscious, now slightly out of harm's way.

"Well, I really have to tend the other patrons." She regretted that as soon as she said it. If the dwarf really wanted to talk to her, he might just kill everyone else so she would have some free time. Before he could respond, she hastily added, "But I suppose I could sit for a few minutes." She carefully sat down in the chair, gritting her teeth as she put pressure on some of her bruises. It had only been a few days since she was rescued from the Tarallians, and she wasn't fully healed.

"So do you live near here?" He was trying to make small talk, and she had to play along, for everyone else's sake.

"For now. I have a room upstairs. Do you?"

"Oh, of course not! I'm from far, far, far away. Well, actually it's not so far, but it is for you."

Her curiosity got the better of her, and she risked a little knowledge a simple village girl wouldn't have. "Another dimension?"

"Oh, dimensions are silly things. I'm from another Frame! I wasn't supposed to come here, but I came anyway!"

Another Frame? That was impossible! No one could travel between Frames, could they? "You must be really powerful." She tried to sound a bit flirtatious, starting to get another idea. If this Orp was so powerful, maybe she could put him to better use.

He nodded eagerly. "I'm the most powerful person in the world!" He was like a spoiled child. Was she this bad, when she had her magic?

She sighed sadly, secretly hoping this dwarf was as gullible as he seemed. "You know, I used to have magic, too. Not as powerful as yours, but pretty strong."

"Really? What happened to it?"

"I don't know. A couple days ago, it just went away. My magic comes from a place called Xen, and I think something might have happened to it." She closed her eyes, wishing she could summon up a few tears, but hoping that a sad expression would suffice. Moments passed, and she waited impatiently for him to take the bait.

"I bet I could fix it."

Careful, Trellia. Don't overdo it. She slowly lifted her gaze to him, putting on a hopeful expression. "Would you? I would be so grateful." What would he expect of her if he succeeded? She would deal with that obstacle when she reached it. For now, she just wanted her magic back, and hopefully to know that her family survived whatever happened. She hadn't seen anyone from Xen since her magic disappeared, so if something happened there, it might mean she was the only one left.

The dwarf grinned like a child about to receive a present. "I'll see you again soon!" And then he was gone. She couldn't see his magic, but she could feel how strong it was. If he actually did restore her magic, she might have to do something for him, however much that thought frightened her. If she didn't, her life might be forfeit.

* * *

"We shouldn't have left her there, is all I'm saying."

"Oh, Belryn, keep your mind on the issues at hand. This is no time to be harboring a schoolboy crush on a girl half your age."

"Sir, I'm only thirty. She's not—"

"And she's eighteen, so it's close enough." Caltoren usually seemed to be so wrapped up in his current pursuit that he noticed nothing else, but Belryn had spent enough time with him to know otherwise. The man wasn't oblivious to events, but simply chose whether or not to acknowledge them. Belryn glanced over at the stairway, checking that the two scientists still had their privacy. The Guardians were still downstairs in the viewing room, so he and Caltoren had the common room to themselves.

"But Sir, why can't she—"

"Belryn, think about this for a moment." The old man's voice was calm and soothing. "Her position and abilities have already doomed her to an overly-interesting life. Do you really want to be part of that?"

"I suppose not, but—"

"But nothing, young man. Put her out of your mind, at least for the time being. Now hand me that flux calibrator and let's see if we can get this gadget working."

* * *

Xentalia gazed down through the transparent floor at the treetops far below. The viewing room seemed like a ridiculous concept, nauseating for newcomers while at the same time being incredibly soothing once one was accustomed to it. It almost felt like flying, though of course, they technically were flying.

She watched the small villages below as she listened to her brother and husband argue. Now and then, she shared a helpless glance with the old guardsman who sat against the wall, but neither of them spoke up. Xentor, as rash as he had been in his youth, was insisting on returning to Xen and fighting his way into their heavily-guarded palace. Treloc, a bit older and wiser, was advising caution but not presenting any alternative solution. The feud between the two was not helping in any way, and she wished her brother would get over his childish grudge and act like the prince he was supposed to be.

"We know where we need to be, yet once again you seek to keep me away—"

"Not this again, Xentor. I'm not trying to keep you away from anything except a foolish death."

"The Pedestal is there waiting for us, and yet here we sit, dimensions away from it, just like—"

"Will you stop bringing her into every disagreement? Your woman is gone, Xentor. If you still believe I'm to blame for her death, then go right ahead, but stop letting your misconceptions about the past interfere with the present!"

The silence in the room was deafening, and Xentalia almost expected her brother to draw a weapon, even in such an ill-suited location. She forced herself to look away from the two men, not wanting to fan the flames of their anger by letting either think they had her support. She gazed at the skies below, and saw something entirely unexpected.

Was that a man standing below them? He stood in the shadow of Gateway Palace, his feet resting solidly on air, but she could make out the silhouette of a young man gazing up at them through the windowed floor.

"There's someone out there," she said hesitantly as she looked back to her brother and husband. Their gazes followed hers for a moment as she looked back, but she understood their confusion in a moment, because the man was gone.

"Perhaps you should get some rest, sister."

"Indeed, my love. This room can be difficult, the first time."

Well at least they were agreeing on something now. Difficult? She knew what she saw, and it had nothing to do with the room itself. Still, she wouldn't mind being elsewhere when they went back to their old argument, so she gracefully made her exit, heading up the curved staircase to the sleeping rooms, merely smiling in passing at the two scientists working in the common room.

As his sister passed out of hearing range, Xentor looked to Xenlic, still sitting calmly against the wall. The man nodded, and he paused to think for a moment.

"It was him again, wasn't it, brother?"

"I'm not your brother, Treloc," he replied reflexively. "Yes, it was him."

* * *

The muscular man sitting at the center table wasn't exactly one of Jalee's favorite patrons, but fortunately she didn't have to deal with the slaver today.

"Hi, what can I get you?" Trellia intoned as she approached the table.

"Got any steak?" He waited for the nod. "Good, then bring me a nice bloody one."

Jalee pulled the girl aside as she came back to the kitchen to pass the order to the cook. "Watch out for that one, Trellia. That's Barok, the slaver."

"I know, Jalee." She passed off the order and took her drink from the side counter, sipping the water calmly. "He can't be as bad as the dwarf though."

The older woman sighed, and minutes passed silently until the meal was ready. Perhaps the slaver wasn't going around killing people, but he was doing the next best thing. Every town he visited would inevitably find several of their young men and women missing the following day, generally a few attractive women and as many healthy men.

"Looks good, girl, and I'm not talking about the steak. Why don't you keep me company while I eat?"

Trellia hesitated a moment, looking over the large man. He was covered in muscles, bare to the waist with a mean-looking whip wrapped diagonally over one shoulder. Perhaps he wasn't the smartest man in the area, or even in the room, but he was clearly not someone to provoke.

"I'm sorry, milord, but I have to work." She turned to walk away, but a callused hand grabbed her arm and roughly pushed her down into the next chair. She froze, memories of the Tarallians oozing into her mind, the fear welling up inside her. She knew she should just get away from him, but she was afraid to move.

"That's better. Now you just sit there like a good girl, and maybe I'll let you come home with me tonight." The man started cutting into his steak, not even seeming to watch, but she just sat there, trembling.

Time passed far too slowly as the steak grew smaller and smaller. She knew there was nothing holding her there, but still she sat unmoving, knowing he would drag her away when he was finished.

"Trellia! Stop flirting with the customers and get back in the kitchen!" Jalee's yell made her jump, and before Barok could even put down his fork, she was out of the chair and hurrying to the back room, followed by the snickers of the other patrons.

"How many times have I told you..." The door to the kitchen shut, and Jalee dropped the act instantly, her voice softening. "Are you alright?"

The young woman nodded sadly, throwing her arms around the other. "Thank you... I... I was so scared... I couldn't..."

"I saw. Why don't you rest in here for a bit, and I'll finish him up."

Trellia sank into one of the extra chairs gratefully, taking a careful sip of her water as Jalee went back into the common room. Why had she let him affect her like that? Why hadn't she just walked away? She had become so used to having her magic to protect her, that she felt so helpless now, especially after all that had happened.

Thankfully, when she next emerged from the kitchen, pretending to sulk as if she had been severely lectured, Barok was gone.

##

## * * *

A great distance away, or perhaps no distance at all, depending on the method of travel, an earthquake struck the palace at the center of Xen. This was no ordinary quake, but then, the dwarf standing outside, surrounded by dead peacekeepers, was no ordinary man.

The building, constructed partly of magic-immune Xianite, nevertheless yielded to the will of the mysterious Orp. Perhaps he was only able to move it, and not actually change it, but the pedestrians were too busy fleeing for their lives to inquire. In fact, the question would never have occurred to them, since magic was just a fairy tale for children. Wasn't it?

* * *

The moon was high in the sky, and the streets were deserted as Jalee stepped out the back door of the tavern, ready to make her way home. Trellia waved her off and started to shut the door, as she was staying on the second floor of the tavern itself. The extra staff rooms were small and dirty, unlike the well-maintained guest rooms, but the girl had no place else to go.

A shadowy figure grabbed the door before it could close, and three more stepped into the dim moonlight to surround Jalee. It wasn't the most creative kidnapping ever devised, but the simplest plans were often the most effective.

"I changed my mind. I think both of you can come home with me tonight." Barok's voice froze her in place, just as Trellia was frozen in the doorway. There was no escape for either of them, this time. No one was around to hear them scream, and the only other exit from the tavern was barred shut. Trellia was a fast runner, but the front door would take too long to open, and even the slowest of these men would catch her if she tried it.

"You, girl, come out here." The young woman seemed in a trance as she slowly stepped outside, visibly trembling, mumbling something under her breath.

Trellia winced as that callused hand grabbed her upper arm, holding her like a vice grip. The last time she froze like this, it had taken Jalee's yell to snap her back into reality, but this time was different. She had to face this herself, so she concentrated her hardest, trying to regain control of herself.

"That's a good girl. You'll fetch a high price, if I don't keep you for myself."

_Face your fear, Trellia! You can't hide from this anymore! Don't let him scare you like this!_ She screamed inside her mind, forcing her muscles to relax, one at a time. She breathed slowly, the chilly night air sharpening her senses. Something else was different this time, and she wouldn't let him victimize her again.

The hand jerked her into motion, or tried to, but it was like pulling on the trunk of a tree. Trellia chose not to move, and so she didn't move. Barok pulled again with the same result, and then looked down at her, a confused expression on his face.

Bright, red eyes looked back at him. Something was very different this time. "Take your hand off me, or you might just lose it."

The hand fell away, and the men backed away. Jalee, now free of their grip, moved closer to the tavern, not sure whether to be more afraid of Barok or of what Trellia had just become. In a moment, the glow vanished, and she saw the girl smile. It was the first smile she had seen in days.

"I guess we're even now."

"I guess so," the smiling girl replied. The door swung shut behind them, clicking as it locked itself. "Come on. I'll walk you home."

A lone pair of eyes watched from a nearby rooftop as the gang of slavers fled the scene. It watched the two women walk calmly away, and it remembered the bright light in the younger girl's eyes. Rotai smiled to himself, standing from his crouch and walking across to the ladder on the other side. Trellia wouldn't need his protection tonight, and Anya and Niven would be relieved to hear it. From the look of things, Anya would be feeling better, too, and Barok would be dealt with in due time. No one threatened his friends and walked away clean. After all, Rotai had a reputation to uphold.

* * *

"Hi, I'm Orp!" The dwarf smiled brightly to the woman at the corner table.

"I am called Pylerra, the Firemage." She kept her expression polite, but not too friendly. She had seen this harmless-looking dwarf kill for no reason, and she did not intend to fall prey to his whims. She was too smart for that, or so she hoped.

"I have magic too! I bet mine is stronger!"

This was dangerous. If he wanted to prove his strength, he might just make her disappear, permanently. The situation had to be handled delicately. "Oh, I have no doubt of that, milord. I am but a humble performer, and my magic is suited to entertain." And to kill or destroy, but she wanted to steer his childish mind away from those topics.

"Ooh, really? Show me!"

The woman who called herself Pylerra smiled, conjuring three small fireballs in her hands, and starting to juggle them above the table with perfect coordination. She had tried to juggle real balls before, but had failed miserably. Fortunately, she knew enough of the technique to make the act convincing with magic, since her mind guided the fire wherever she wished.

The little dwarf clapped in glee, his eyes following the flames as they danced from one hand to the next. Three balls turned into four, which turned into five, which turned into a revolving ring of them. With more concentration, each ball turned into a little stick figure, dancing in perfect unison with the others as they revolved above her hands. She was no professional entertainer, but she had no intention of dying by letting this Orp become bored.

A half hour passed, and Pylerra was beginning to tire. Fire was easy for her to wield, with so much training and experience, but eventually she would have to stop and rest. Just when she started to fear for her life, the two women working the common room hung up their aprons and greeted the two who arrived to replace them for the evening shift.

"Oh good," she remarked casually, "She's the one who served me yesterday." It wasn't the best comment she could have thought up, but she was beginning to lose her concentration, and she had seen the way Orp was eyeing the younger girl, Trellia, the other day. She needed him to lose interest before she ceased to be entertaining, and it worked. Without another word, the little dwarf hopped off the chair and left her alone. Eager to be elsewhere before he became bored again, she left her money on the table and slipped out.

"Are you sure you want to do this? Maybe he didn't see you come in."

Trellia shook her head, opening the door just a crack to peer into the common room. "He saw me. If I run, he'll track me down and kill me. I need to let him down gently, somehow."

"And what if you can't?" Jalee merely said what Trellia had been thinking, and the younger woman sighed.

"I don't know."

"Hi! Remember me?" The dwarf was as cheerful as ever, when Trellia came over to his table.

"Of course I remember you, Orp. What can I get you?"

"I got your magic back! Isn't that great?" His grin was ear-to-ear.

"Yes," she said calmly, trying not to encourage him, "And I'm very grateful. Would you like something to eat?"

"Now you can be mine!" The other patrons looked up suddenly, and everything seemed to stop. Everyone knew something was about to happen, and most wondered if this would be a good time to run away.

"There you are, Master. I've been looking for you." The boy who then walked into the tavern attracted little interest, except from one pair of eyes. Trellia froze stiff, her jaw dropping as she recognized someone she thought was dead.

"Can't you see I'm busy, stupid boy?"

"Rikket!" Trellia ran over, throwing her arms around him, shocked and overjoyed to see him again, but that only lasted a moment. He carefully took hold of her and pushed her to arm's length.

"Umm, yeah. You look a bit familiar. Have we met?" He looked over her shoulder, and then carefully shifted her aside. "Excuse me. Master, I must speak with you. There's a flying—"

"Rikket, don't you remember me?" Her heart dropped as his gaze came back to her, his eyes devoid of the love she remembered. His face, his hair, his body, and even his clothes were exactly as she remembered, except for the metal collar around his neck. And why did he keep referring to Orp as "Master?"

"I don't think so. I'm sorry, though. My memory has been a bit fuzzy lately." Fuzzy? He didn't remember her at all, and he had the nerve to call it fuzzy?

Trellia turned her gaze to Orp, abandoning niceties entirely. "You did this to him! Release him at once!"

Orp kept that stupid grin on his face as he replied. "Nope, he's my new toy! You can't have him!" He paused though, the smile growing wider, as strange as that seemed. "If you want, you can be my new, new toy!"

That was the last straw. She lashed out at the little dwarf with every ounce of magic she could find, intending to completely immobilize him and cut him off from whatever magic he wielded. She didn't know what she was doing, but because of the nature of her magic, she didn't have to. It felt like trying to push a huge stone block in her mind, and it just wouldn't budge. She moved away from Rikket, feeling her magic growing as the distance between them grew, but it wasn't enough.

The tavern was silent, people quietly backing away from the battle. They couldn't see the magic itself, but a glowing light accompanied it, and they knew something dangerous was happening. Strangely, though, the dwarf and his pet boy just stood there, unaffected.

The grin vanished, and fear filled Trellia's eyes. Orp frowned at her as he effortlessly pushed the magic away from himself, and from her. "That wasn't nice. Now I think I'll just take you!"

She braced herself for hostile magic, but wasn't expecting the dwarf to simply leap onto her and tackle her to the ground. In moments she was on her back, trying desperately to push him away as he started to rip at her dress.

"Wait, you don't have to do that." Rikket's voice gave him pause, but the boy marched on. "Just let her go. Lia, use the magic. Get away."

He remembered her! "He's blocking it, Rik!"

The angry yell from the dwarf silenced both of them, and sent shivers down Lia's spine. "You dare stand against me, boy!?" Orp jumped backwards off of her, landing on the nearest table. He waved a hand, and a shimmering image appeared in the air beside him. It showed a rectangular rock, floating in space, which looked like a more barren version of Xen. "Recognize your planet? Say goodbye!"

Rikket opened his eyes wide, stepping forward and extending a hand. "No!" Something threw him back against the door, and the dwarf clapped his hands together, a bright glow appearing.

"No, don't!" Trellia pleaded. "Please, I'll do whatever you want!"

Orp slowly pulled his hands apart, as if a great force was holding them together, and a bright yellow sphere started to grow between them, like a miniature sun. It was so bright, the Sentinels and patrons had to shield their eyes or be blinded, but the dwarf stared right into it as he drew his hands shoulder-width apart.

"Goodbye, Xyn!" he yelled maniacally, and slammed his hands together with a resounding clap. The glowing ball shrank to nothing, and the planet in the image exploded magnificently and silently.

Rikket clapped his hands to his head, trying to hide from the horrible vision. He didn't even recognize the place of his birth, but to destroy a whole world just out of spite for one person was utter madness! He couldn't imagine the amount of people who had just been killed because the dwarf got annoyed. It was as if he could feel each one of their lives being torn out of existence in one fireball, and it pained him.

"That's what happens when you disobey me, boy!" The illusion winked out, and he smiled down at Trellia. This wasn't a cheerful grin, but a malicious hint of things to come. It was as terrifying as his frown, and she started to inch away from him.

Rikket slowly pushed himself to his feet, determined to do something. He couldn't go against his Master, but with his magic... Wait, his magic was fading! He could feel it draining away, almost being ripped out of him after the destruction of its source. He was powerless. He couldn't stand against Orp, and he couldn't save Lia. Why did she seem so familiar now? He knew her name, and he could picture images of her from his past, but parts of it were still blurry.

Then, something changed. He felt the magic return, but it was somehow different. It was if it came back in reverse, with something else wrapped around it. Rikket didn't know how to describe it, but he felt its presence, and he felt empowered.

A gift, my Sentinel.

The voice came from nowhere, but he knew it was meant for him. The voice of an old man, but somehow stronger. None of it made any sense, but somehow he understood it. That wasn't Xyn Magic he was feeling anymore. It was Xen Magic, and it was stronger than he had ever felt.

"Now, stupid boy! Kill her and make me proud!" A sword appeared in the dwarf's hand, and Rikket caught the hilt as it was tossed to him. He stared at the blade, then at the girl on the floor. Something was wrong about this sword. It jogged his memory, but he couldn't place it. He had always preferred a staff—

That was it! The images flooded back to him, of the first day he had wandered into this place and met Rotai. The first time he had practiced the staff with him, and the first time he had met Trellia, his love. He remembered those days spent playing with their magic, and the night they had laid side-by-side, talking softly all night. He remembered when the soldiers had stunned them and taken them away. He remembered being rescued by the man in the red cloak, Xentor. He remembered going back to save him, only to fall into their clutches again. He remembered the shock sticks and the beating and the pain.

He remembered death.

"I love you, Lia. You're... free now."

He remembered.

He remembered, but the collar burned against him, stabbing into his mind. He had to kill her. He loved her, but she had to die. He took a step toward her, raising the sword. He could not disobey his Master, no matter the cost. He would kill—

No, it was wrong to kill. That voice screamed inside his head, but the collar pressed him harder. Sentient beings simply did not harm each other. That was how he had been taught. He knew it was false, but he wouldn't kill. He couldn't kill. He had to kill her.

Another step toward her, and the voice screamed louder. He felt the magic grow stronger, and the voice louder. It was wrong to kill, but he had to do it. It was wrong, but the collar pushed him onward.

He took another step, and the voice was deafening. He brought the sword up, prepared to strike, the voice screaming behind his eyes as the collar pressed against his mind. He could not disobey his Master. It was wrong to kill. It was wrong to disobey.

"Please, Rik." Her voice was so soft and weak. Her eyes stared up at him, full of something he couldn't quite recognize. He saw the fear, but there was something else. "Please, don't do this. I love you."

The magic coursed through his veins, unthinkably strong now that he was this close to her. She loved him. For a moment, that silenced both voices, and he froze. Why was his magic stronger? His magic was always weaker near her, not stronger! He could feel power like he had never imagined, and still more beckoned at him. He could feel the gaze of the dwarf upon him, and could see the power flowing through him as well. He could see the currents of magic swirling around all three of them, and the glow of the invisible forces holding Trellia down and pushing the magic from her.

The collar pressed at him, but he no longer listened to it. He flung the sword aside and tore the metal collar from his neck, the steel snapping like paper. The magic burned like fire inside him, but he could see the dwarf was still stronger.

Rikket's eyes met those of Orp, and a moment passed before the frightening grin turned into a furious yell. Fire leapt from the dwarf's mouth, and Rikket leapt to the girl he loved. No, he leapt into her, his body shifting to a mere illusion as he occupied the same space, lying with her on the ground. As the fire bathed them, his own fire fought back, the magic stronger than anything he could imagine. He wasn't sure what he did, but the magic turned on the dwarf, and though he knew it was wrong to kill, there were other ways to remove a problem. He removed the problem.

The magic spiraled in on the dwarf, and pushed him in a new direction. He just seemed to fade away, the currents of his magic subsiding as he disappeared. Rikket had no idea where he had been sent, but somehow he knew it was permanent. It was over.

As the fire faded from within him, he pushed himself out of Trellia and solidified, looking down at her. The fire had passed through him, but she had not been so lucky. Her skin was black as ash, small licks of flame still visible on the corners of her dress. She stared up at him in silence, fixing him in her mind, in her final moments.

"I love you too, Lia."

##

## * * *

"May I present her highness, Empress Qinami!"

The members of parliament respectfully stood, waiting until the Empress took her seat before returning to theirs. The weekly meeting of the leaders of Xen was usually a mere formality, but with recent events, they were given new importance.

For the first time in recorded history, the skies above had cleared, and they could see past the stars to other dimensions, as their ancestors had done so many years ago. For the first time in recorded history, they had received visitors from afar, though had mistakenly pushed them away. On top of that, the entire palace had inexplicably been moved fifty miles to the west, leaving only the ancient Fortune Stone on the bare ground. Legend said that it could grant amazing powers to any who looked at it, but that had never happened.

Now, the area around the stone had grown desolate, machines of all types simply refusing to work, and the buildings themselves crumbling as if from decay. Plants died, and sandstorms ravaged the area, already turning a circular area into a wasteland. Only the Fortune Stone was unaffected.

They might have understood it, if they had known that the Fortune Stone had another name, and that the Xen Pedestal acted to protect itself.

All this, the parliament had met to discuss this morning. Unfortunately, not a single subject would be mentioned today.

A point of light appeared in the center of the chamber, expanding a moment later into what could only be described as a hole in the air. People began to emerge from it, and the chamber was silent.

First came two men, perhaps in their thirties, wearing dark-red cloaks. Behind them, a beautiful woman emerged in a long, white dress, a young man in a blue coat at her side. Behind them, two men in professional attire stepped out, their coats and ties perfectly tailored. The man who took up the rear wore swords at each hip, knives sheathed on each forearm, and metal armor that looked like something from a history book.

"I am Sorcerer Prince Xentor of the Dimension of Xen, son of Lord Xen, student of ArchSorcerer Relvar, whom you know from legend, and leader of the Xen Guardians. I have been away for these millennia, but I have now returned, and I will be heard."

A green-skinned woman watched from the back row, the device at her belt hiding her from the others as she frowned. The traveler had failed, and the Guardians still lived. No matter. The rules had changed, but the game played on.

#

# Part VII - Deity

"Repent for your sins, sisters and brothers! Let Daco take you into his heart and guide you to salvation!" The people of Serpentooth kept their distance from the strange people in the white robes. Some recognized the speaker as Tolani, one of the less-skilled hunters who provided meat to the local taverns. His two companions were a mystery, but no one liked people of that sort anyway.

"So who are they, Rotai?" Anya had just finished her second performance of the day, and the two of them sat quietly in chairs outside the Crescent Moon Tavern.

"Oh, just some cult that calls itself the Children of Daco. Rumor has it they've built a village on the old Sankasi ruins, and I've spoken to people who have seen them as far away as Rockstone." The assassin was bored, as he always had been lately. The town was changing, and there just wasn't much money being offered for his line of work anymore. People were more likely to bring a man before the magistrate than to have him killed. A pity, really.

"Repent for your sins, sisters and brothers! Let the Children of Daco guide you to salvation!"

"Who are they?" The former blacksmith's apprentice from Ka'Loen had taken well to the city, and now worked at the smithy on the other side of town. He still had spots of ash on his face, and Anya sighed while pulling a cloth from her pocket. The boy had no family here, and was old enough to take care of himself, but she still treated him like a long-lost son.

"Long day, Niven? You look exhausted. Don't worry about those nuts. They'll lose interest when they realize no one here cares for them."

He put up with the babying to a degree, though he didn't pretend to enjoy it. "Oh, so those are the Daco people my Master was speaking of. He said Meffani, one of the stable boys at the Green Fairy, joined up with them."

Anya and Rotai exchanged a worried glance. Maybe these people were more dangerous than they seemed.

* * *

"You'd be proud of him, Lia. That new Council of his is going to bring peace to all the races. And Rotai and Anya, well, they never seem to change. Always there for us." Rikket sighed as he leaned against the tall oak and watched the setting sun.

"You know, I visited the Pedestal last week, Lia. Your uncle suggested it, and I'll tell you, the walk through the desert was harder than you'd think. At first I thought it would be a waste of time, since I'm not really from Xen, but it still gave me this." He pulled a five-inch metal cylinder from his pocket, idly tapping a few unmarked spots on it to extend the Blade Staff and retract it. "It's not as long as Xentor or Treloc's staff, but they said it's perfect for my height. I suppose I could make myself taller with magic, but that wouldn't feel—"

He stopped suddenly as he heard footsteps on the leafy ground, but relaxed as he recognized the woman who approached.

"I'm sorry, milord. I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, it's alright. I just didn't know anyone else came up here. You work at the tavern, don't you?"

The woman smiled slightly, nodding. "My name is Jalee."

He nodded, pocketing the metal cylinder. "I'm Rikket, but I suppose you knew that. Everyone seems to." He paused a moment, glancing at the solitary gravestone. "Did you know her?"

Jalee walked carefully over to the stone, kneeling in front of it almost reverently. "She saved my life."

Rikket sighed, nodding again. He gazed out to the west, as the sun descended below the treetops, no longer visible from the low hill. He rarely looked at the gravestone itself anymore, since he knew exactly what it said. He didn't talk to the stone itself, since he knew she couldn't hear him. It just felt good to talk to her, even if the conversation was one-sided.

"In a way, she saved mine too." Somehow, Orp had managed to rescue him from death itself, though he wondered if that would have been possible, had Trellia not taken his body back here to be buried.

"She had a good heart, milord." The woman touched the stone gently, her fingers tracing the words.

Here Lies Trellia. Friend, daughter, and guardian.

"If I may ask, milord," Jalee continued, "What does the rest of it say?" Only half of the inscription was written in the local language, and the rest seemed to most people like mere decoration. In truth, it was all part of their treaty with the Uranans, by which they tried to avoid spreading too much knowledge of their true origins. It was all a farce, since everyone here knew they were from another world, but putting something like that in writing, in stone no less, required some finesse.

"Sentinel Princess Trellia of Xen. _Zha'khatei ai dukkhei_." He paused a moment, flashing through memories of her. "May the gods watch over you." He glanced over at her, catching what looked like a momentary smirk. "Something funny?"

"No, milord. It... it just seems odd that ones as powerful as you would still pray to the gods." Pray to them? He had dined with several of them the other day, but he would never pray to them.

"It's just tradition, really."

As the tavern woman made a polite departure, he closed his eyes and sat in silence, waiting for the visitor he had actually expected to meet here. The last bits of sunlight faded from the sky, and the full moon rose high in the sky.

"I was hoping you had given up this foolish quest, Sentinel."

He opened his eyes, looking up at the face of an old man with a long, white beard. The fellow looked simple enough, but Fim was one of the oldest deities still living, and only came here because he felt some responsibility for failing to protect Trellia.

"I won't give up until one of you brings her back. No, don't argue. I've talked to enough deities to know that Orp just provided the motivation. I don't know which one of you brought me back, but it's time to do the same for her."

"Sentinel, I mean no disrespect," The words sounded strange, coming from someone so powerful, "But this just cannot be done."

"Can not or will not?"

"We do not raise those who have passed—"

"So you can, but you don't feel like it?" The Sentinel's glare would have caused most people to cower in fear, but the deity knew he was incapable of harm.

"It is simply not done. Yes, the knowledge exists, and a select few of us are able to do so, but it is not done. I understand your grief, Sentinel, but it has been two years since she passed on, and I think it is time for you to accept her fate. No one lives forever, Rikket. Not even us."

"Says the six-million-year-old man." It was true. Most deities aged in the thousands or hundreds of thousands, but Fim seemed to be an anomaly. It was rumored that his parents, now long-deceased, had lived to the ripe age of seven million, and he might still beat their record.

"There is an old saying that has passed through the ages, Sentinel. 'May you live in interesting times.' It is often thought of as a curse, the same as wishing someone a short life and a violent death. I see it another way. Time passes for all of us, but most of those fleeting moments are dull and empty. I have lived quite a long time, and I have seen many things, some of which I still remember. I have seen life and death, wars and peace, age after age of growth and decay, and I have stood aside and watched. If someone were to cut me down now, I would be remembered as an old man who lived far too long and did nothing of value. These are interesting times, Rikket. Live in them, not apart from them, and give your life value, and you will live more in a year than I do in a millennium."

Rikket couldn't help but smile, glancing sideways at the lonely gravestone. Unsurprisingly, the deity was not there when he looked back.

"He's a wise man, Lia. And he's right. When I find a way to bring you back, we'll live better than he can imagine."

He could almost hear the skies groan.

* * *

"I call to order the first meeting of the Trans-Dimensional Council." Xentor's voice resounded beneath the golden dome, his image projected threefold above the center platform, a hundred feet tall, clearly visible by any of the hundred-thousand delegates present. The facility could hold nearly twice as many, but most of the less-desirable desks near the outer edge remained empty.

The Guardian himself sat in the front row, only a few feet from the platform, directly in front of one of the three images of himself. He spoke in a calm, quiet voice, and the technological marvels of the Xen Institute took his image and voice to the representatives of nearly every developed race in the Frame.

"Most of you already know me. I am Lord Xentor of Xen, leader of the Xen Guardians. My people have worked ceaselessly for many generations to ensure that peace reigns throughout the Frame, but that task has grown beyond what we can accomplish alone. That is why I call upon each of you, upon this Council as a whole, to aid in this pursuit. I yield the floor to our elected mediator, Ambassador Za'ne'li Meha'nato of the Vaht'sen, to commence proceedings."

As the indicators on his desk darkened, and his image on the platform was replaced by an androgynous, yellow-skinned humanoid, he relaxed in his chair. He had spent the past two years, since the transformation of Xen by the Time Storm, organizing this Council and creating the facilities. A golden dome, a half-mile in diameter, sat in the center of what he had nicknamed "Council City," on a formerly-barren planet orbiting binary yellow suns. A combination of Uranan and captured Telthan technology had yielded what had become known as a portal blocker, or port-shield, that prevented any unwanted intrusions. Anyone trying to come here, through magic or technology, would be redirected to one of the portal chambers spaced around the outside of the city, where they would be politely checked before being granted access. Horse-drawn carriages, one of Xentor's personal embellishments, would take the visitors down the cobblestone streets to the Council Dome, or anywhere else in the city. Even though the horses were illusions and the carriages were powered by electricity, the effect was there.

The discussions in that first meeting began with the Telthan war, which continued to ravage many member worlds, touched on commerce issues, during which the Myconian Mark was suggested as the official currency for inter-racial barter, and ended with a debate on the role of the Guardians themselves in this new organization. The last part would have gone more smoothly if a certain name was not mentioned, but he would be dealt with in time.

* * *

"Honestly, Rikket, you spend far too much time with this nonsense. Even you can't bring back the dead."

"I'm back, aren't I?" The quarterstaffs cracked against each other as they practiced in the afternoon sun. "If I can be brought back, Rotai, then so can she."

The two bare-chested fighters clashed once more, and the older man's staff halted a hair's width from the boy's head. "Perhaps, but not by you. It's time you accepted that."

After a quick bow, the two started again, the wooden staffs beating a rhythm in the air as they repeatedly struck nothing but each other. Rotai performed the same maneuver that had earned him his last victory, but this time it was blocked. The next move gave the desired result. The boy never made the same mistake twice, but he still lacked the will needed to win.

"You can't stay on the defensive all the time. You need to attack, or your opponent can relax his own defenses and put his full strength into attacking."

Rikket nodded, taking a few calming breaths before beginning again. The result was the same, and came even sooner than before. "I know, I know. I just can't bring myself to strike at you. You wouldn't understand."

"No, I do understand, Rikket. We've been through this before, but you need to get that out of your head. I realize you were raised that way, but that doesn't mean it's true. People _do_ hurt each other, and unless you're willing to do the same, you'll never be any better than you are right now."

"Repent for your sins! Let Daco guide you to salvation!" The people with the ponytails were coming through town again, spouting their mantra to any who would hear. Rikket didn't know any deity named Daco, but they did tend to go by more than one name.

"Come on, that's enough for today. Let's get a drink." Rotai led the way back to the tavern, where they both spent most evenings when not otherwise engaged. Rikket left his staff in the basket with the others, picking up his shirt and coat to follow the old man. Many young men had expressed interest in learning the arts of combat, so the guardsmen had set up this small practice circle outside the barracks, to make sure no one was accidentally hurt in the streets. Some men now charged a fee to tutor new fighters, but Rotai refused to teach anyone else.

The young Sentinel glanced back at the cultists, still repeating their mantra to deaf ears, and saw one of them looking straight at him. The man speaking, who Rotai had identified as an old hunter named Tolani, was accompanied by two attractive women. One looked about Rikket's age, and her eyes were locked tightly on him. He sighed, hoping she just left him alone, so he wouldn't have to disappoint her. His heart was already claimed.

* * *

The long caravan rode slowly down the overgrown path, stopping occasionally to clear a fallen tree or bridge a stream. It was slow going, but they were nearly at their destination.

Actually, it wasn't nearly as slow as it would be for anyone else. A tree trunk didn't last long against a blast from one of these neutron rifles the green woman had given him. He had no idea how they worked, but pulling a trigger was easy enough. On the other side of things, bridging a river was no challenge when you were employing the right kind of mage. Tychen wasn't exactly the kind of man he usually worked with, but he had more than his share of talents. Even for those not comfortable with slave trading, enough coin was still good motivation.

"Hey boss, the guys in Harinth just... uh... called on the talk-boxes. They said they got ten good ones, and they'll meet us at the new place."

Barok smiled, giving the other man a verbal pat on the head, and glancing back to check on the merchandise. The men and women in the wooden cages sat dejectedly, watching the trees pass by as they rolled along on the carts. None of them were really top-notch, but he always managed to sell them to one buyer or another. There was always demand in this business, and once he was established at the new place, he would be known and feared world-wide.

* * *

"You got the coin to pay for this, girl? These cloaks aren't cheap." The proprietor of The Cauldron was talking to an attractive young woman, dressed entirely too darkly for her complexion. She nodded, and money changed hands. Kirelle watched as the girl donned the cloak, lifted the hood over her head, and promptly vanished. An invisibility cloak!

The man waited a few moments to see if she would reappear, then shrugged and turned to his next customer. "So what can I do for you, miss?"

The interior of The Cauldron was full of shelves of books, making one wonder about the name. A bookstore was a perfectly-respectable establishment in a town like this, but if Kirelle had doubted her friend's word, the cloak would have convinced her.

"I'm looking for some magic to—"

"Sorry, miss, but this is a simple bookstore. The... uh... cloak was just a gift for a friend. Something I had lying around. I don't sell—"

"My friend, Tolani, told me otherwise."

A moment passed in silence as the man gazed on her, but finally he nodded. A slight gesture, and the illusions vanished, showing the true contents of The Cauldron. Shelves of vials and scrolls, amulets and orbs, made it clear that this was no bookstore.

"Tolani is an odd fellow, but a good man." He extended his hand. "My name is Claqren. You said you wanted to buy some magic?"

Kirelle smiled. "Yes, do you have any love spells?"

"Aren't you one of those Daco people? What would you want with a love spell?"

"The same as any woman would want, milord. The Children of Daco are not... inhuman." She had been careful to leave her ceremonial robe behind, and dress in ordinary peasants' rags, but she supposed the lone braid still made her affiliation obvious.

A red-haired woman stepped quietly into the tavern, smiling to the old man. After nodding politely to her, he turned back to Kirelle.

"Well, lucky for you, that's a popular spell. Since I'm guessing you'd prefer something a bit on the cheaper side, how about one of these?" He walked over to one of the shelves, taking down a small vial of yellow liquid. It couldn't have more than a few drops in it, but quantity rarely meant much when magic was concerned. "Pour this into the lucky man's drink, and be the first one to say the trigger word to him. Make sure he's looking at you when you say it, though."

"What's the trigger word?"

"Why, 'love' of course." Money changed hands, and he turned to the red-haired woman. "Pylerra, good to see you."

Waiting for the girl with the braid to leave, the Firemage smiled again to her old friend. "Claqren the Illusionist, playing merchant in a little magic shop."

"Well, one does have to eat, you know."

"If you'd care for a bit more money, I have an offer for you, from my new employer. Barok is willing—"

"The slaver? I'm afraid not."

"Hear me out, old friend, and shield us from prying ears, because you're going to find this most interesting."

* * *

"All I'm saying is that if you're going to carry a weapon like that, you ought to be ready to use it properly." Rotai's words were punctuated by the faint metallic whisks as Rikket extended and retracted the weapon. There was no visible switch, but the Pedestal had shown him the technique. The Xen Magic spiraled in very slightly around four spots along the handle, and if those spots were pressed gently in a specific order, the weapon would activate. With enough practice, it could be done almost instantly with one hand, though the Sentinel was still getting the hang of it.

"You know I can't, Rotai."

"Look, Rikket, I don't mean to turn you into a killer, but you need to be able to defend yourself properly."

"No, I really can't. You wouldn't understand." A moment of silence passed, and he sighed. "Alright, well, whenever I even think about hurting someone, there's this voice inside my head that screams at me to stop. Don't laugh!"

The assassin couldn't help but chuckle. "A voice in your head, lad?"

"It's not like that. It's more than just a voice. I don't really understand it." Indeed he didn't, but the voice was there. The closer he came to doing harm, the louder it became, until it turned from noise to pain, and he couldn't help but pull back.

"I think I could use another drink. You should have one too." Rotai caught the eye of one of the serving girls and pointed to his empty glass, but Rikket just shook his head.

"You really should try some, lad. A man can't live on water."

"I can." He wasn't sure what the other man had been drinking, but it smelled of hard liquor. Rikket's glass of water had emptied several times, but he only drank it to fit in a little better. Rotai and Anya were the only real family he had, and he didn't want to remain an outcast. The Guardians had offered to take him in, but he could see in Xentalia and Treloc's eyes that they still resented him for being alive, while their daughter was dead. He wasn't really one of them, anyway. He had no family and no home, but the people here were his friends, and that would have to be enough.

"Excuse me, but do you know that man?"

Jalee stopped, a step from the kitchen, holding a drink in each hand. The woman in her way dressed normally, but had her hair cut unusually short.

"Who, Rotai? Everyone knows him. Excuse me." The woman stepped into her path again, mumbling an apology.

"The other one, milady. The younger one." Her face reddened slightly, and Jalee smirked as she realized the point of the question.

"Ah, so you have your eye on Rikket. I'd steer clear, girl. He's got a good heart, but trouble has a habit of finding people like that."

"I'm not afraid of trouble, milady. What sort of drink is that?"

"Oh, this? No, this is for Rotai. The boy only drinks water for some reason, but if he's anything like... well, he probably doesn't even need to drink at all." Jalee sighed for a moment, remembering Trellia. She had been such a nice girl, and that had been such a horrible way to die.

"I see." The woman seemed dejected, but there was something else in her expression that Jalee couldn't quite place. As she stepped aside, Jalee brought the drinks to the men, glancing back at the short-haired woman. She thought she caught a glimpse of an empty glass vial in her hand.

"Well, supposedly it can cut through anything. It looks round, but when I swing it, it sharpens itself on one side, like it's alive. Maybe it's magic, or something else."

"A dangerous weapon, indeed. I suppose it will require a different style of fighting, if you want to make use of the blade. The usual quarterstaff styles are based on forceful thrusts and blunt swings, but if this can cut as easily as you say," He paused, smiling to the serving girl as she set their drinks on the table, "then a strong swing would be a waste."

The boy's water seemed to be a very faint shade of yellow, and he wondered if the girl had sprinkled a bit of rum in there. The lad would do good to loosen up a bit, he thought, and it seemed someone agreed.

Rikket winced slightly as he drained half the glass, wondering if Jalee had slipped some alcohol in there. They kept trying to make him drink, and it really was a waste of time. He wasn't sure it would affect him anyway, since despite their similar looks, he just wasn't like them. Stopping himself from magically cleansing himself of the stuff, he decided it couldn't hurt. Maybe they were right. Maybe he did need to relax a bit.

He turned his gaze to the stage, where Anya was beginning her first show of the evening. "Rotai, is this one new? I don't think I've heard her sing it before."

The other man listened for a few moments, and then shook his head, smiling a bit. "She hasn't played this song in years, lad. It's called the Ballad of Taranga." Rikket watched the beautiful bard while Rotai spoke. "It's an old folk legend from across the ocean. There was this warrior named Taranga the Magnificent, though he wasn't called that at first, who fell in lo—"

"Excuse me, milord." A woman quickly stepped up to the table, seeming to be in a hurry. "I don't mean to interrupt, but I saw you practicing outside—"

"I saw you in the street," the boy chimed in. "You were with that other man... What was his name?"

"Tolani. Never was much of a hunter, and now he's walking around preaching peace and lo—"

"Yes, yes." She seemed agitated, but Rikket wasn't sure why. "I am with the Children of Daco, and I would..." He hesitated, as if unsure whether to continue. When no one spoke, she took a breath and continued. "I would love to show you our village."

She stared at Rikket, as if expecting him to agree, but Rotai knew the lad better than that. Strangely, though, he was staring at her, too, with the kind of stare you only see on someone hopelessly in love. That couldn't be right. "There isn't much to see. You settled at the old Sankasi ruins, didn't you?"

"Yes, it's quite a nice place. There aren't many of us, but more are coming every month." She seemed more confident now, still not taking her eyes from Rikket, who sat there as if stunned. Something was very wrong here, Rotai decided, but what was it?

* * *

The girl walked silently down the street, glad to be outside again, now that the sun had set. For someone like her, it was dangerous to be outside during the day. She had stolen much from these people, as was her specialty, but being seen would be the least of her problems.

Fortunately, her new cloak made that very unlikely. With enough practice, one could walk through a forest more quietly than a small rodent, but walking in the shadows didn't make you invisible. Only magic could accomplish that.

She casually pulled a small knife from her sleeve, cutting a young man's coin pouch from his belt without him even turning his head. Holding it carefully to stop it from jingling, she slipped into an alley to carefully wrap the coins and hold them in place in her bag.

A young man emerged from the tavern across the street, with a woman on his arm. No, perhaps he was on her arm, but that didn't seem right, given the customs here. Wasn't that the woman who she saw at The Cauldron, buying a love potion? On top of that, she was one of those Daco cultists, so it looked like that poor sap had landed in a world of trouble. She thought it a pity though, as he was kind of cute.

She realized she was chewing on her lower lip as she gazed at him, and clamped her teeth shut. It was an old habit, something she did when she was nervous, but why should looking at that man make her feel that way? She shook the feeling off, and started making her way across town to the Black Lamb. She needed a drink, and not _that_ sort of drink.

* * *

The two horses trotted down the forest path, the lovers side by side. Rikket stared longingly at the girl beside him, drinking in her beauty. He had never been in love before, and—

Wait, was that right? Had he been in love before? For that matter, who was this girl next to—?

He was completely in love. She was everything to him, and she was stunning. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have found her, though there was still something in the back of his mind that didn't trust her. What reason could he possibly have for distrusting such an exquisite creature?

They had been riding for two days now, having stopped only once to make camp just off the side of the path, among the trees. He had slept beside her in complete bliss, knowing that when the time was right, they would be together, and he would be in ecstasy for the rest of his life. Neither of them had spoken a word since they left town, and he still didn't know her name, but it was love at first sight, and who could argue with that?

Wooden buildings came into view as they crested the hill, surrounded by crumbling stone ruins. Sankasi had been born again to serve the Children of Daco, and every man, woman, and child had their hair cut short around one of those braids. The two of them rode slowly through the center of town, so she could show him her home, but he spent most of the time looking at her face. He noticed the crude structures, and he raised an eyebrow at a steaming pile of metal wreckage that she called the Cleansing Fire, but none of that mattered beside her beauty.

"Kirelle, what brings you home so soon, my dear?" An old man walked up beside her horse, his long braid hanging down over a simple, white robe. "Have you brought a new disciple to serve the great Daco?"

"I have, Herraim," she responded. "This is Rikket, and he has come to join us. Isn't that right, Rikket?" She turned her gaze to him, smiling brightly.

"I'll do anything for you." He knew something wasn't right here, but the part of him that cared was so far buried that he didn't hesitate even a second. Kirelle was her name, and he loved her so deeply that he couldn't think of anything else. All he wanted to do was be with her, no matter what that required.

"Excellent. It is good to meet you, Rikket. Prepare him for tonight's feast, and afterward you may bring him before the altar."

* * *

"So he just left with her? That doesn't seem much like Rikket." Niven was still covered in soot from a day at the forge, but he liked to stop at the tavern and have a drink with Rotai before going home to wash.

"No, it doesn't. I thought of following them, but she took him straight out of town so quickly that I didn't even have time to borrow a horse."

"I still don't think Rikket would do something like that. I mean he still visits Trellia's grave every few days, and he loved her so much he's been trying to bring her back from the dead. He wouldn't go running off with someone else, would he?"

Rotai shook his head, looking down at his wine glass. Something about that made him think, and he sent his mind back a few hours, trying to remember exactly how it happened.

He was sitting with Rikket, talking about his new Blade Staff. It was an amazing weapon, able to cut through just about anything as easily as air. He thought it was magical, but when he mentioned it, the boy had said that it was actually immune to magic.

He had glanced around the room, as he always did whenever there was movement. It was an old habit, but one that had saved his life more times than he cared to remember. The movement that sparked his interest was just the serving girl returning with their drinks. She stopped for a moment to talk to a young girl with a thin braid, probably from that Daco cult, but their exchange was brief. The serving girl came over to them, while the cultist walked away.

She had something in her hand, though.

What was that? Rotai tried to focus his memories on the object in her hand, but he hadn't paid enough attention to it at the time. Had she slipped something in his drink? He had seemed perfectly normal after his first few sips, at least until she showed up. If she had drugged him, it must have taken a trigger of some sort. Rotai had used magical poisons before, when a knife in the dark wasn't an option, and there was usually a word that needed to be said to start the spell.

"I need to see someone," he said simply as he stood. There were only a few men in Serpentooth who dealt in magic like that, and he knew where to find them.

## * * *

"On to our next order of business. The esteemed ambassador from the Ban'rieli has entered a formal petition to require that the remaining independent Guardians be brought into this Council. I believe Lord Xentor wishes to speak." The image of Za, as the Vaht'sen ambassador was known, vanished from the platform, and the face of the young Sorcerer replaced it.

He still thought of himself as young, though he had lived longer than most of the men, women, and androgynous other races in the Council Chamber. He would live for many more years, perhaps indefinitely if his latest studies came to fruition.

"Thank you, mediator. As you all know, the Guardians already serve this Council, whether directly or indirectly. We do, however, have to protect our own home first of all, and for that reason many of the Guardians remain stationed at the borders of Telthan territory to restrict their advances and thwart their raids."

As expected, the face of another man appeared beside Xentor's above the platform. Debates were growing more common, and the system had quickly been adapted to allow more than one representative to speak at a time. The Ban'rieli ambassador looked human, but then, so did Xentor, and he was nothing of the sort.

"Our petition refers specifically to the Guardian known as Rikket. He is by far the strongest of your people, yet he serves neither the Council nor Xen."

"Sentinel Rikket is a special case, ambassador." Special, indeed! The boy was learning to control his magic well enough, but rarely even spoke to the other Guardians. Some of them, namely Xentor's older sister and her husband, still resented him for Trellia's death, so the chances of him allowing the Council to guide him were quite slim.

"Special or not, he is a Guardian, and the Council has the right to demand his service. The power given to the Xen Guardians is not without responsibility, Lord Xentor, as you are of course aware."

It was a difficult debate, since he couldn't afford to show weakness by admitting that he had no control over the boy. He did his best to reject and delay the demands of the Ban'rieli ambassador, but in the end, he was unable to countermand the resulting orders. All he could do was hope that the boy would do the right thing.

* * *

"Let Daco take you into his heart, and guide you to salvation. We humbly offer our hearts and souls to his service, in the hopes that more may be brought into grace."

Rikket knelt before the altar, as they called it. A stone block had been dragged to the center of Sankasi to serve as a pedestal for a metal statue. The statue, however, seemed to be made of re-forged scrap metal, and the scepter in the figure's hand looked suspiciously like a piece of an energy rifle. Thoughts like this swam through the Sentinel's mind, but were disregarded after one look at Kirelle. He looked into her eyes, and everything else ceased to matter.

"We humbly ask that the great Daco bless this boy into our cause," the old man intoned, "So that he may find salvation and enlightenment." The other robed men and women dropped to their knees in a circle around Rikket and the altar, lowering their heads and mumbling prayers to their god. He didn't really care about any of this ceremony, but he would do whatever was necessary to please Kirelle.

When a lightning bolt struck down out of the starry night sky, he jumped back from the altar. He had seen displays like this before! They actually did have a patron deity in this town! For a moment, he forgot about Kirelle entirely, wondering how powerful the deity was, and whether he was one of the few that knew how to raise the dead. After a moment, though, his mind clouded over again, and all he could think about was the girl behind him. She was so beautiful.

"Why do you bring this corrupted boy before me?" The deep, booming voice caused an instant reaction, and all but Rikket pressed their foreheads to the ground, groveling before their god. A shimmering figure appeared on the pedestal, superimposed on the crude metal sculpture, not resembling it in any way whatsoever. It looked like a middle-aged man in regal clothing, sporting a long, brown beard and sporting a jeweled scepter in the crook of his arm. A flowing, golden cape completed the image, making him look more a warlord than a deity.

"He wishes to join the Children in salvation, o' great Daco." The old man, Herraim, was a bit difficult to hear with his forehead in the dirt, but the rest of them murmured agreement. The deity looked down at Rikket, probably expecting subservience, but he looked up with complete calm.

"The boy is evil, and must be punished!" A bolt of lightning struck down from the sky, slamming into Rikket's quickly-conjured energy shield. A second followed it, then a third, but the Sentinel just shrugged them off. He didn't care about this deity and his lightning bolts. He just wanted to be with Kirelle. "He wields evil magic to protect himself from my cleansing. Beware, my children, for he will steer you from salvation into darkness!"

"Isn't that a little melodramatic?" Rikket asked calmly, "You think I'm evil just because I'm not in the mood to be struck by lightning? I hear it hurts a bit." He smiled as he saw a furious glare spread across the humbled god's face, but his victory was short-lived.

"The great Daco has spoken!" Herraim's voice came from behind. "The boy spreads blasphemy, but his words will fall on deaf ears. Let him and those with him be shunned!" At that, the man stood and turned to face outward, his back to Rikket and the altar. One by one, the other cultists copied the gesture, and Rikket wondered for a moment if they realized that while they symbolically turned from him, they were also turning their backs to Daco. He glanced back, however, to see that the deity had vanished. None of this really mattered, of course, unless—

Only one person still faced him. Kirelle. Suddenly this became serious, and he stared into her eyes, terrified that she might turn away from him as well. If she left him, his life would end. She _was_ his life, and no one else could replace her, except of course Trel—

He gasped at a thought that swept through his mind, but it was gone before he could take hold of it. Kirelle was stepping toward him, and everything else ceased to mean anything. The world could go ahead and burn, as long as he had her.

* * *

"All the magic in the world won't save you from this knife," Rotai said quietly as he held a blade to the old man's neck. "Now all I want to know is what you sold to Rikket."

"I told you, I didn't sell him anything! He's never been in my shop!" The proprietor of the Ancient World, a shop full of overpriced knick-knacks, seemed to be telling the truth. The assassin had known that some of the normal-looking items on the shelves were imbued with magic, and that the real wares were stored safely in the back room, and the old man hadn't denied it once he felt cold steel at his throat. All of the black market magic shops in Serpentooth disguised themselves as antique stores, but if you wanted to buy some illicit sorcery, you came to one of them.

Not many words were exchanged after that, and the girl soon found herself following the man out of the shop. He gave away through his frustrated mumblings that he was going to try the Soiled Broom next. Did he really think the fool that ran the Broom actually knew anything about the magic items he sold? Didn't the assassin know that all of the clever mages went to The Cauldron? Maybe this man wasn't as omniscient as he led others to believe.

"Don't turn around," she said aloud when he was halfway through the first alleyway. He froze in his tracks, probably assuming she had a knife to his back.

"I know that voice. Didn't I kill you once?"

"You tried."

"It was just business, you understand." She knew that already, and had heard that the assassin had been paid, even though her body was never found. It was a good thing she was difficult to kill.

"You're trying to find out what happened to your friend?"

"You've been following me. I'm surprised I didn't see you." He started to turn, but her voice stopped him.

"I said not to turn around!" She paused a moment, then continued calmly. "The girl bought a love potion. A strong one."

"How long does it last?"

"Indefinitely. Your friend is lost, assassin." She stepped away silently, moving into the shadows, even though it wasn't necessary.

"I don't give up on friends that easily." He paused, waiting for a response. "Are you still there?" Rotai turned, but saw nothing. The girl stood quietly against the wall, safe under her invisibility cloak, as the assassin walked away.

* * *

Kirelle lay quietly in her bed, her head resting on Rikket's bare chest. She had given up her friends for him, but that was only a small loss. He was perfect in every way, and she only hoped he would still love her when the potion wore off. Would it wear off? She hadn't thought to ask. Maybe it was wearing off already, she feared, or maybe she had taken him from someone else.

The two of them had been in the throes of lovemaking, the boy seeming to have infinite stamina. He had taken her to places that had made her forget about her brothers and sisters, and even about the great Daco. Then he had said a name that still pained her, and she couldn't keep silent any longer.

"Who is Trellia?"

She felt the rise and fall of his chest suddenly stop, and his voice was hesitant and full of fear. "Just... some girl I knew."

Well, that much was obvious. She didn't want to ask the next question, but she had to know. "Did you love her?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation there, which led to an even worse question.

"Do you still?"

Her own heart seemed to stop as she waited the long moments for his answer. How strong was the potion? Could it make him forget about someone he truly loved? If it did, could she really do that to him?

"I... No... I mean... She's gone... Killed..."

Kirelle felt the pain in his voice, and had her answer. Whoever she was, he was still in love with her, even though she had passed into darkness. She wiped away a tear, wondering if she had made a mistake, almost wishing she was cold enough to just ignore it.

When he had fallen asleep, she quietly slipped out from the sheets and dressed herself, stepping out into the chilly night air. She couldn't bear to see him in that much pain, even when he hid it so well. What other horrors had he been through, to make him so strong? He had stood up to Daco himself, seemingly without effort, yet he was so gentle and passionate at the same time. Did such men really exist, or was she dreaming?

He had left his home to come away with her, and she needed to prove to herself that he actually loved her in return. He had to love her. She repeated that to herself as she stepped to the altar in the center of Sankasi, and began drawing the symbols. Herraim might be the leader of the Children of Daco, but no one knew the ancient rituals and magic better than Kirelle. She just hoped she was strong enough.

The sacrificial knife was aptly-named, but it was not only used to kill. The rituals required blood, and hers was as good as any. Two slices across each palm started a slow drip of crimson trickling down to the runes, and she closed her eyes and chanted the ancient rites. While the town of Sankasi slept, she worked magic stronger than she had ever tried before, and though Daco might disapprove, she knew this power flowed through him.

"Lato fiatti tave'a mehan co'si,

sa ca'si marhei a tiave'a.

Zha'khatei lato, ao tiavol!

The words meant nothing without knowledge of the ancient language, but she knew their power. As her strength began to fade, and her life slowly dripped to the ground below, she felt the magic rising within her.

The red puddle split down the middle, and so did the ground beneath it. A body rose from below, covered in black ashes, seeming to soak up the blood as the earth filled in beneath it. Kirelle clasped her bleeding palms together, and then knelt down to place them both on the blackened chest. It was clearly a woman, but she looked like she had been burned alive. The mere sight of it made Kirelle shudder, but she would not stop now.

A glow spread from her hands to envelop the fallen woman, and as Kirelle's wounds would heal, so would hers.

Pain.

All she could feel was pain, through every inch of her. The heat had faded, but she could feel her life slipping away. She knew this was the end, and she stared up into his loving eyes—

She gasped for breath, staring up at a strange, white-robed woman. Her hair was neatly trimmed, but a thin braid hung down from the back of her head. The pain was gone, and all she felt was cold air against her bare skin. Where was she? What happened? Was this the afterlife? The last thing she remembered was Orp blasting her with fire, and Rikket looking down on her as she died.

She knew she had died. She had felt her body failing in those final moments, and she had accepted that. Who was this girl looking down at her? Where was Rikket? More importantly—

Her thoughts were interrupted as she felt the magic rushing into her, like a river dam bursting. She knew she was alive, but she didn't know how. Had Orp raised her the way she raised Rikket? Was he going to snap one of those collars around her neck? Who was the girl?

"Relax, Trellia. You're safe now." Her voice was soft and soothing, but Trellia had no intention of relaxing. The memory of the horrible pain stayed in the back of her mind, gnawing at her and making her want to vomit, but she was stronger than that. She had to be strong.

She was also naked, and that just wouldn't do. The magic felt overjoyed to be used as she conjured clothing around herself, but her muscles were a bit harder to get back into. She tried to speak, but the first few attempts gave nothing but air. Eventually, though, her body began to remember how to function.

"Who are you?"

"I am Kirelle, of the Children of Daco. I brought you back from the darkness." The girl had moved back when Trellia's clothes appeared, but now seemed more at ease.

"How?"

"By the will of Daco and the ancient rituals, I gave of myself to raise you." She opened her hands, showing parallel scars across each hand. Some sort of twisted blood magic thought up by a sadistic deity, Trellia thought. The gods were the ones with the magic, and they created the spells for their followers to use. This Daco was likely not the kind of deity she wanted to meet in a dark alley.

She slowly pushed herself upright, sitting with her back to the stone pedestal. There was a ridiculous-looking metal sculpture on it, and a piece of it looked like a Calrean mag rifle. But wait, that would mean—

Trellia glanced around until she saw the dangerously-irradiated remains of the Tarallian hover-skiffs. "Sankasi."

"Yes, this is our home."

The magic helped her feel the heat from the skiffs, and she knew one of those old power cores could stay hot for several years if it remained intact. It was only warm now, so she must have been gone a while. She tried to think of it as just being "gone," because even after Rikket had returned, "death," still felt irrevocably permanent.

"Kirelle, what are you..." Rikket stopped short as he saw the two women. "Lia! But... how?"

She wanted to run to him and throw her arms around him, but something made her hesitate. He stood there in the cold air, dressed only in a bed-sheet wrapped around his waist, and the first thing he had said was the other woman's name. No words were necessary, because all she could hear was her heart breaking in two.

As Trellia fled through a portal and started the walk through Trans-D space, she let the tears start to flow.

## * * *

"The Ban'rieli are evacuating two of their systems to avoid the Telthan advance, and they've requested our assistance. If you think you're up to  
it—"

"I'll hold them off, father." Her voice was hollow as she snatched the piece of paper from Treloc and stepped into a portal. He didn't like to send his only daughter into the middle of a war zone like this, but she kept requesting more work. Ever since she had somehow come back to them, she had done little else, but he could see the pain in her eyes. Less than a week had passed since that miraculous day, and his joy had turned to dust when he recognized the empty shell his little Trellia had become. Did all children go through times like this? Would he have felt differently if he had actually raised her from birth, instead of waking up one morning to find a fifteen-year-old daughter? She was eighteen years old now, if one skipped the two years between her death and rebirth, and still he barely knew her.

Lord Xentor had taken charge when she arrived on Xen, obviously unfamiliar with the changes the planet had undergone. His first act had been to send her to the center of the Great Desert to receive her Blade Staff, as was tradition for any of the Xen Guardians. Of all of them, he seemed the least surprised to see her again, but then, the man seemed to grow more mysterious by the day. He disappeared for weeks at a time, and then tried to make up all of that time in a single day before disappearing again. Where was he spending his time? Then again, did it really matter anymore?

Treloc walked over to his window, looking out over the palace courtyard. He remembered looking through a similar window and seeing a seemingly-endless swath of greenery, and before that an endless desert. Things had certainly changed. The grassy courtyard seemed to glow, sandwiched between the newly-built, gray stone palace and the red-brick outer wall that kept the Guardians in and the rest of Xen out. "Lord" was a title that was thrown around quite a bit these days. Lord Xentor was ruler of the Xen Guardians, and Lord Treloc and Lady Xentalia were the royal family of Xen. But which Xen? The Xen behind these walls, or the rest of the planet? It had taken no more than a demonstration of magic to woo the favor of the current rulers of this world, whose ancestors had ruled Xen for thousands of years during the Time Storm. They claimed to be direct descendants of King Relvar himself, but it seemed unlikely. Even if it were true, they were as much Kings and Queens as Treloc was a Lord. Neither of them had any real power in this parliamentary system.

So the Guardians stayed in their little holding pen, protected from the rest of the world, most of which seemed to feel that outsiders had no right to live among them. The three Guardians of old ruled over their tiny piece of land, and everyone else tried their best to ignore them. They worked tirelessly to safeguard the Frame, and this was how their own world repaid them.

At least the other races appreciated their help. Later that day, a messenger came from the Ban'rieli home world, offering his sincere thanks and relating his amazing story about a young girl reaching into the sky and single-handedly holding back an entire fleet of Telthan battle cruisers. It was more or less true, and Trellia's power was indeed amazing, but it didn't make Treloc feel any better. The sizable monetary donation was greatly appreciated, but it still wouldn't give him the time he had lost. Time lost with Trellia, and time lost with Xen itself.

* * *

The man who came to Rotai's table seemed ragged and skeletal, but the disguise wasn't nearly enough to fool the old assassin. His latest client was one of the richest men in Harinth, and even this messenger would have been more at home in gold and silks. Still, money was money, and Rotai wasn't the one that needed to avoid recognition.

"My employer thanks you for your services. Here is the fee you requested, and a bit above for such an excellent job." Indeed, the coin pouch felt a bit heavier than he had expected, and he managed a slight smile and nod to the nervous man.

"A pleasure doing business." The messenger recognized the polite dismissal, and quickly made his exit while Rotai pocketed his earnings. "Sorry about that."

Niven shrugged, taking another quick drink of his ale before speaking again. "Not a problem, though I don't see why you do your business in the tavern. I think you spend entirely too much time here."

"Familiar ground, Niven. I know this place better than any other. I know every shadow that might provide cover for me, or for any professional rivals. My enemies know that I know this, so wouldn't dare to attack me here. It's a sort of sanctuary, you see."

"That's a twisted sort of logic, if you ask me. I find it easier not to have enemies in the first place."

"We all have enemies." The assassin sipped his wine calmly. "Some more than others, I admit."

"I don't have enemies. I'm a blacksmith's apprentice. Who hates a blacksmith?"

"Another blacksmith?"

"Well, we don't go around killing each other, or kidnapping, or—"

Niven paused, realizing he had misspoken. The two men stayed silent for several long moments before the young man dared to speak again. "Have you heard from him?"

"Not a word."

"I'm sure he's alright, Rotai. With all that magic of his, none of those cultists would be able to hurt him, right?"

The assassin shook his head, sighing. "He's just as vulnerable as any of us, Niven. If they catch him off-guard, he'll die just as easily. Funny how one drink can change so much." He looked down at his wine glass for a moment, and then drained it in one large swallow.

* * *

The heavy axe came down once more, slicing the cylindrical chunk of wood in two. Rikket knocked the pieces aside and put the tool down to fetch another log. Manual labor like this wasn't actually difficult for him, but he didn't want to advertise his magic to the entire village. He and Kirelle had a silent understanding with them, in that he would do his share of the labor, while the others were eating or sleeping of course, and the villagers would see that the two of them were provided for. No one would dare say a word to those who were shunned, but somehow food and water would find itself in front of their cabin each day. Rikket could provide for both of them, or the whole town if necessary, with some simple magic, but they had enough trouble accepting an outsider as it was.

Daco had not shown himself since that first night when the young Sentinel defied him. Being thwarted so easily by a seventeen-year-old boy must have had a humbling effect on the deity, but the villagers still believed he was being protected by some evil god. There were no evil gods, or good ones for that matter, but how could he explain the workings of the deities to those disciples? The gods were people like any other, who just happened to live a great deal longer and wield somewhat-powerful magic. The strongest deities were a match for even an ArchMage of Xen, but only near their places of power. Rikket knew there had to be a reason for that dependency, but none of the books he'd found on Xen seemed to have the information he needed.

When his thoughts touched Xen, they touched a more painful subject: Trellia. He remembered being deeply in love with her, years ago. It seemed like an eternity now, but the memory was always in the back of his mind. Kirelle was his whole world now, but it had not always been that way. His love, Kirelle, had even given of herself to bring Lia back from the dead, just because he missed her, and now he couldn't even bring himself to talk to his former love. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

It wasn't complicated. He loved Kirelle, and nothing else mattered. The rest was—

Why did he love Kirelle so much? He had loved her before he even knew her name, and knew that he would give his life for her in a heartbeat. How could love like that possibly happen so—?

He loved her, and that was all that mattered.

A point of orange light appeared beside him, stretching and rotating into a dimensional portal. He brought the axe down to split another log, and then turned toward the humanoid figure that emerged.

"Sentinel Rikket of Xyn?" The man's accent was quite odd, but Rikket couldn't place it. The man only waited for his nod before continuing. "By order of the Trans-Dimensional Council, I hereby call you to service as a Xen Guardian."

"Isn't seventeen a bit young to go to war?" He had no intention of agreeing, but it might be fun to play with the man a bit.

"With all due respect, Sentinel, you may be young, but you have the power to destroy—"

"Destroy what? Entire worlds? You want me to blow up planets and kill people?" He was letting his temper take hold of him. He stepped toward the man, still holding his woodcutting axe at his side. It started to feel less like a tool and more like a weapon. "You want me to beat them to death, or maybe incinerate them? Burn down their houses and torture them until they scream? You want me to hurt people?!" He suddenly realized he was inches from the man's face and shouting. Pausing a moment to get control of himself, he backed off and slammed the axe blade down into the ground, nearly laughing. "I wouldn't even be able to hurt this tree, if it weren't already dead. Find someone else."

"We are aware of your limitations, Sentinel, and can work within them. This service is not optional." The man had to be a diplomat. No one else could stay that calm after being yelled at like that. Rikket moved another section of log into place, bringing the axe blade down on it effortlessly.

"I say again, Sentinel, we require—"

"Leave me alone. I'm not interested," he said while he moved another log into place.

"Do not force—"

"Force?" He turned toward the man, letting go of the axe. It raised itself into the air, and chopped the log in half while he crossed his arms and stared defiantly at the diplomat. "You can't force me to do anything. Now leave."

What else could the man do? The portal closed behind the departing Council pawn, and Rikket quickly grabbed the axe handle as someone came around the edge of the nearest cabin. He relaxed and let go when he recognized Kirelle.

"Who were you talking to, my love?"

"No one important." As he took her hands in his, the axe continued working, and the logs continued lifting themselves into place. Manual labor was easy when you were just a spectator.

"I think the village may come around soon. I think they regret pushing us aside, and may welcome us among them again."

Rikket smiled, staring into her eyes. As long as he had her, he didn't care about the village or anyone else. He loved her, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

The slender figure crept quietly through the shadows, staying close to the outer walls and avoiding the bright circles of light that swept slowly across the courtyard. She could see the points of red and blue lights from the men watching the walls, their metal fire-throwers ready to hurl death if she was seen.

The front gate was just ahead, open as always, but two uniformed guards stood beside it, in the midst of friendly conversation. If she could only get past them, she would have a chance at freedom.

"Look, I'm not saying you didn't sleep with her. What I'm saying is you didn't _sleep with_ her." The two men laughed while she waited in the nearby shadows. If one of those light circles touched her, they would see her and shoot her. Escapes were frowned upon, but only briefly.

"What are you two jokers laughing about?" The short, muscular man who now approached made the girl shiver. She rarely saw him near the prison cells, but he was known and feared among the other slaves. The rock mage carried an immense stone hammer across his back, and looked as if he could wield it with terrifying strength.

"Nothing, Sir." Even the guards went stiff when he approached, but the girl saw only opportunity. The two guards had turned away from the gate, and the short man was trying to stare them both down at once. If she was quick, she might make it past without them noticing her. If she was slow, they would see her and kill her.

This was the only way past the outer walls of the fortress, and it was brightly lit, but there were still shadows near the sides. She would only be in the light for a few moments, and then the darkness outside would lend her cover. She didn't know how far it was to the nearest town, but that didn't matter right now.

The men were distracted. Now was her only chance. She ran.

* * *

Second Lieutenant Livora Tigryosi walked quickly through the corridors of the heavy cruiser, her uniform perfectly clean and flawlessly ironed. Several lower-ranked crewmen saluted her as she passed, and officers around her rank gave her more friendly looks. She knew she was attractive, but she had no intention of even talking to any of those men. She had a job to do.

The engineering deck was only a short walk from the shuttle bay, but it wouldn't do to be seen moving directly from one to the other. A new arrival on the cruiser wouldn't head straight to engineering, and she didn't want to be questioned. Fortunately, this cruiser was large enough, and had such a large crew, that no one looked far enough past the name-tag and the well-endowed figure to realize that Second Lieutenant Livora Tigryosi didn't really exist.

It was a pity that the Telthans had started using inhibitor fields on their larger warships, because it made her job so much more difficult. Still, she did get a thrill by being behind enemy lines, with only her weapon to protect her if someone were to see through her disguise. But who could see through such a perfect disguise? She wore no mask, no makeup, no prosthetics, and not even a wig. She simply _was_ who she wanted to be. The only thing that could give her away was her mind, since she actually knew very little about Telthan military codes.

It helped to always think of herself as Lieutenant Tigryosi, or whichever name she happened to pick. If she accidentally introduced herself using her real name, well, things could get difficult.

The engineering deck was organized perfectly, with every control clearly marked and every crewman at their station. It was entirely unrealistic, and if she didn't already know that most of the crew was being held through mind-controlling implants, she would have been surprised.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant, but are you authorized to be here?" The officer who put a hand on her shoulder clearly suspected something. She looked him over quickly, assessing the situation. He was clearly stronger than her, but she was probably slightly faster. Still, he would probably be more than a match for her, so she couldn't afford to turn this into a fight. It was difficult to win a fight when you couldn't harm your opponent.

"Yes, I have my authorization on my panel." She reached under her coat, checking her pockets, trying to find it. The first thing to be pulled out was a metal cylinder, which she seemed startled to see. The officer didn't recognize it until he saw her blush and quickly place it beside her on the nearby console. "I... um... just ignore that."

The man smirked. So predictable. Anything even remotely phallic, they assumed to be one of those.

"Did you leave it in your quarters, Lieutenant?" Was he really trying to flirt with her? She was really going to enjoy this.

"Oh dear, I think I may have done just that." She sighed, looking down at the floor, and casually placing her hand on the cylinder. She glanced sideways at the console, moving the object slightly to the side. It had to be perfect.

The man reached forward to caress her cheek. He really was a smooth operator! "Well, how about I help you find it?" For a moment, she was tempted to do exactly that, if only to see if he was as good as he seemed to think. Of course, that would be a fatal mistake.

"That would be wonderful, except..."

"Except what, Lieutenant?"

"Except... You're just not my type." Her fingers danced the rhythm she had practiced, and her Blade Staff extended. One end of it speared downward through the console, destroying the system that powered the inhibitor field. Even before the man could realize what he was seeing, Second Lieutenant Livora Tigryosi suddenly became an eighteen-year-old girl named Trellia.

She had to admit, this job did have its moments.

* * *

"I know your god doesn't approve of me," he told the gathered villagers, "But I don't care about him. I never claimed to be one of you, but Kirelle is, and I care for her. Please, accept her back among you. I'll do anything it takes to make her happy again."

Rikket and Kirelle stood at the altar in the center of Sankasi, looking out at the Children of Daco around them. Each stood with his or her back to the young couple, as if to remind them of their lowered status. They came, but they would not look at him or speak to him, because that would violate the commands of their god.

"Please," he dropped to his knees. "All I want is to see her happy, and she was happiest among you." He was answered only by silence. He knelt there for a time, waiting, hoping for a response while Kirelle stood beside him. What he received was completely unexpected.

One instant, everything was normal. The next, he felt the magic flee from around him, and saw the diplomat step out from behind one of the cabins. A hand beckoned him over, and the figure stepped again out of sight. Rikket sighed to himself, as he stood, shaking his head at Kirelle when she tried to follow. He knew he wouldn't be able to push the Council away that easily, but he had hoped for more time.

"You have left us no choice, Sentinel," the diplomat began when Rikket joined him. The shadowed faces of the four hooded figures seemed to look right through him. They slowly moved around him, and he reached his hands into his pockets, as if to show that he wouldn't fight back. His right hand curled around his retracted Blade Staff, though he wondered if he could actually use it, even to save his own life.

"So just because I won't work for you, you're going to kill me? I thought your stupid Council stood for peace, not murder."

"You possess a rare gift, Sentinel." The man was holding a metal object in one hand. An inhibitor device, Rikket thought. "This gift comes with a price. Your obligation is to use it in the service of peace. If you refuse to pay the price, you forfeit the gift. Remove his magic."

The eyes of the hooded figures began to glow bright white, and Rikket tensed. Could he take out all four of them before they crippled him? Could he strike even one of them? He knew he could not injure or kill, but what would he do without his powers? Who were the men in the cloaks, anyway? He knew of no way to remove the magic of a Guardian without killing him, so why could they do it to a Sentinel?

From four sides, bolts of lightning struck him, coursing through his body. The pain sent him to the ground, convulsing, and he stared up at the four sets of glowing white eyes. No, those weren't eyes! Those weren't even people! The glow from their eyes revealed metallic faces, not skin. The Council had actually created machines specifically to counter the powers of a Sentinel?

These thoughts came and went over what seemed like hours. The pain leveled off, but it was still excruciating, and when it subsided, he just lay there whimpering. The ground felt hard as a rock, and his clothes seemed to burn whenever they shifted against his skin. He was still alive.

"It is done. You are no longer a Sentinel. Remember that this was done by your own choice. Now you can live your life as one of _them_."

Rikket laid there on the ground for a while, reaching out with his mind to find the magic, and seeing nothing. They had actually reached inside him and ripped out his magic, and he was powerless to stop them. Minutes passed that seemed like hours, as he stared up at the sky in tears.

"Rikket? Rikket! What happened to you?" Kirelle's face moved into view, silhouetted against the clear, blue sky. He gazed into her eyes, love mixing with despair as he realized that she was no longer all he needed. She was all he had.

## * * *

"You did _what!?_ "

"Not I, Trellia. The Council sent enforcers to remove Rikket's magic."

"Father, how could you allow it?" She knew she still had feelings for Rikket, however she tried to put that behind her. She tried to imagine what he must be going through now, suddenly cut off from everything. It would be like losing one's sight, no longer being able to feel the magic around you. The very thought made her shudder and pull the clouds closer.

"I don't rule the Council, and neither does your uncle. The Guardians are merely high-ranking members of the whole, and we have to accept the Council's decision, even if we don't agree with it."

The Trans-Dimensional Council, her uncle's creation, had existed for a matter of days, yet already extended its reach beyond the original intentions. It was pulling in ships from every advanced race, to build a military force capable of enforcing the peace it proposed. From the magical races, it recruited the most powerful mages, most notably the Guardians and Sentinels from Xen. Well, "Sentinel," she supposed. She was now the only one.

"You may have to accept it, but I don't. I'm going—"

"No, Trellia." Treloc turned to the window, looking out on the city outside the walls of the palace. "You are not to see him anymore. He made his choice, and now he has to live with it alone. Is that understood?"

He dared order her like that? She was not about to be bossed around by her father, her uncle, or the Council itself. Her magic would—

Her magic would be useless if they sent those enforcers after her next. Trellia sighed, realizing she was about to make the same mistake as Rikket, thinking herself an unstoppable force, untouchable by anyone. Her glare faded, and she hung her head. Maybe it was for the best. She had a second chance at life, and she would use it to do some good.

"Yes, father."

* * *

The new proprietor of The Cauldron was no more helpful than any of the other magicians Rotai had tried. Apparently the previous one had left some time ago for a job out of town, and hadn't yet returned. The man who now ran the store knew little of the goods he sold.

"I'm sorry, milord, but as far as I know, there is no counter to the potion's effect. It cannot be reversed."

"Everything can be reversed. Anything can be undone short of death itself, and even that has been known to happen. That's what magic is all about, isn't it? Doing the impossible?"

"I'm sorry, milord."

Rotai angrily turned to leave, but stopped himself at the door. "What if there was no one left to love?"

"Milord, I cannot condone murder."

"It would work, wouldn't it?"

"The effects of the love potion are as potent as actual love, milord. I suspect your friend would hate you for the rest of his life."

The assassin thought for a moment. Life was full of hard choices, and this was one of them. He could leave Rikket to rot with those cultists, or he could free him and make an enemy of him at the same time. Then again, if he truly considered the boy a friend, was this even a choice?

The hidden girl watched him closely, feeling as if she could see the gears turning inside his head. Would he really kill his friend's lover? It seemed harsh, but it really was the cult girl's fault for trapping the boy in the first place, and that would make him available again. She chewed on her lower lip, thinking fondly of what might come, and then realized that Rotai had left the shop.

She pulled back the hood of her cloak, reappearing, and smiled to the shopkeeper as they finished their transaction. This man wasn't as wise as Claqren, but this was the only shop in town that had what she needed. She had always preferred the cover of night, but it was good to be prepared.

"Same time next week, miss?"

She shook her head, pocketing the vial she had purchased. "I'm heading west for a while."

"Harinth?"

"Darkol."

"Why not Harinth?"

"I've heard rumors about that place. Never been there, and don't plan to."

"Why not? They have a guild for... for the things you do. They even have a guild for—"

"I know." She interrupted, recalling some of the nightmarish stories she had overheard in the taverns. "I know."

* * *

The hot sun beat down on Rikket's back as he raised the axe again. Hours had passed since he began, and he could barely lift it, let alone split the logs. He wanted to go lie down, but the villagers would suspect the truth if they noticed his strength had left him so soon. They would know something was wrong, and their ignorance of his lack of magic was the only thing that kept him safe. He willed his muscles to continue, and he brought the axe down again, cutting halfway through the log.

"Some water, my love?" He left the axe embedded in the wood, grateful for Kirelle's understanding. Of all those here, only she knew the situation, and she helped him conceal his weakness from the others. With her support, he could live through this.

"Thank you," He said simply, drinking deeply as he gazed lovingly into her eyes. "I guess all that exercise wore me out." The other villagers grinned, and Kirelle blushed rather well considering they had planned that excuse in advance.

Though no one had spoken to either of them, even after his speech a few nights ago, they had welcomed him back in their own way. They allowed him to work alongside them, occasionally smiling to him in between pretending he didn't exist. They would not entirely disobey their god, but they pushed the limits as far as they could, and for now it was enough.

"Why don't you take a break from all of this chopping, and..." She leaned in close and whispered the rest in his ear, and it was his turn to blush. This time he didn't even have to pretend, because her words were exactly what the others probably assumed.

Of course, regardless of words, he was in no condition for any of that. He had relied on magic for years now, and even a few hours of chopping had completely exhausted him. She sat with him while he slept, his head cradled in her lap, and prayed silently to Daco to show him mercy.

Her prayers were heard.

The first sliver of the moon rose above the village of Sankasi, casting little light on the forest below. Torches lit the center of town as the people knelt before the sacred altar, praying for the guidance of their chosen deity. Rikket knelt with them, in the back with Kirelle, though he had no intention of worshipping a minor deity.

"Let the great Daco take you into his heart, and lead you all to salvation," Herraim intoned. Every night they knelt before the altar, but since the night of Rikket's shunning, it had remained empty. Until now.

"I hear you, my children." The image of Daco appeared above the altar, and Rikket could feel those eyes staring directly at him. The deity seemed to be smiling, and it sent shivers down the young man's spine.

"Oh great Daco, we humbly submit to you, and beg your guidance."

"I will guide you, my children. I will show you the way to everlasting salvation. You still hold the evil one among you, but your faith is stronger than his, and his evil magic can no longer protect him from justice." Rikket's heart skipped a beat, and fear spread through him. He felt Kirelle's hand squeezing his tightly, and he reached his right hand into his pocket, as if the Xianite Blade Staff could protect him against a deity's magic.

"Let the evil one stand to face judgment!" An unseen force grabbed Rikket by his wrists, pulling him away from Kirelle and lifting him off the ground. He dangled there, trying to pull his arms free, as the villagers turned to watch. "The evil one will know the power of Daco in his final days, as his punishment begins. He will drink, but no liquid will quench his thirst. He will eat, but no food will sate his hunger. In the end, he will know the true path to salvation, and know his failure to follow it. I have spoken."

The deity vanished, and Rikket crumpled to the ground, his body limp. He had not been harmed yet, but though he couldn't see the magic, he knew Daco would follow through on his promise. Rikket knew he didn't have many days left, and he knew that this time, there would be no rescue. The other deities wouldn't move against one of their own, at least not just for Rikket's benefit. The Guardians wouldn't rescue him, since they were now under the umbrella of the Council which had doomed him. Trellia was alive again, but would she even find out about this in time?

He had loved her once, more deeply than he had ever felt before. He had held her in his arms in her final moments, just as she had done for him. He could never love anyone as much as—

Kirelle knelt down beside him, pulling his head into her lap and gazing into his eyes. He could see the fear in them, almost as strongly as the love. When he died, she would feel it almost as strongly as he, and for that reason above any others, he was determined to find a way out of this situation. He could not hurt her by letting himself die. He had to survive, but how?

* * *

Niven sat quietly at the corner table of the tavern, idly listening to Anya sing a humorous story of three women in love with different parts of the same man. He didn't understand all of it, but some parts made him laugh while he waited for Rotai. The assassin was usually here this time of night, but Niven had left the smithy over an hour ago, and still he sat here alone.

She was singing about the first woman, who loved the man for his ears. Why his ears, of all things? She went into some amount of detail, but if there were any jokes in there, he didn't recognize them. The other patrons seemed to be laughing. The second woman, apparently, was deeply in love with the man's arms, and even Niven could understand some of the humor that came out of that. Maybe it should have been his hands, though.

By the time she got to the third woman, it was hard to hear through the laughter, but the third woman was in love with—

Niven blushed as a raucous laugh spread through the common room. Everyone was having a great time, but Niven was trying to hear the lyrics, perhaps a little unfamiliar with the subject matter. It was about that time that his gaze fell upon a woman near the back of the room, not laughing at all. Her clothes were muddy, and her long, blond hair was tangled hopelessly. She looked like she hadn't eaten in days, and she was voraciously tearing through a plate of rice and beans while Jalee, one of the serving girls, sat beside her.

Was this what love felt like, or was it just lust? Rotai had told him about both, but he had never really felt this way before. He watched her silently, wondering if he should try to talk to her. What would he say? He could introduce himself, but he would need some reason to go over to her table, wouldn't he?

"Something wrong, Niven?"

He snapped back to reality, realizing that the tavern had quieted down when the song had ended. Anya was sitting in Rotai's seat with a glass of water, a concerned look on her face.

"Oh, no, nothing. Just... Who's that girl? I don't think I've seen here around here before."

"Oh, Nalla? I'm not sure, really. She arrived this morning, nearly dead from hunger. It seems this was the fourth tavern she tried, because none of the others would give her any food." Anya watched her, seeming a bit worried.

"But who is she? Where is she from?" Niven hesitated, wondering if he sounded a bit too eager.

"She wouldn't say." The attractive bard turned back to him, smiling. "Well, well, well. I was wondering when you'd find somebody special."

"No!" His response may have been a bit too hasty, because she only smiled more brightly. "I mean... I was just curious, is all." He wasn't even convincing himself.

Anya sipped her water, that knowing smile still on her face. He wasn't in love with the girl or anything. He just noticed her and found her attractive, though as dirty as she was at the moment, he wondered why. There was just something about her that seemed to pull him in. He decided he would have to talk to her, but not until she was finished eating. It wouldn't do to interrupt her, if she was as hungry as she seemed. No, he would wait until she had recovered, then introduce himself.

"Where's Rotai, by the way? I haven't seen him since yesterday, and—"

He looked away from Nalla, and noticed that Anya had already left.

* * *

Kirelle knelt beside the bed, watching her love sleep. It had been two full days since the great Daco had seen fit to curse him with never-ending thirst, and she could almost feel his suffering. His throat was so parched that he had stopped speaking, and soon after that, had taken to bed. He only woke for short periods, during which he would look at her and weep without tears. No matter how much he tried to drink, it never seemed to help. It was as if the water vanished before touching his lips.

She sighed helplessly, moving quietly out of the cabin. The crescent moon was slowly rising into the sky as the last bits of sunlight faded from the horizon, and the villagers were gathered at the altar in prayer after the evening meal.

"Let the great Daco take you into his heart, and lead you all to salvation," Herraim intoned, as he did every night. The people knelt on the bare ground, heads bowed toward the sculpture, but Daco didn't appear that night. She watched for an hour as they prayed, until the last of them finished and went home to sleep. She stood alone in the center of Sankasi, and took her turn in solitude.

"I beg of you, Daco, to release my love from this curse. I cannot bear to see him suffer like this. I have served you well for so long. Please grant me this mercy."

Her prayers fell on deaf ears, but she knelt at the altar until her knees began to hurt, hoping for some small mercy from the one she had worshipped for so long. She knew Rikket would not survive another day, and there was only one choice remaining.

It took every ounce of her strength to carry him out of the cabin and lay him gently in front of the altar. Even healthy, he wasn't very fat or muscular, but she wasn't exactly known for her strength. She breathed heavily for several minutes before she got herself under control and readied herself for the ritual. One way or another, she had to save him. She risked her own life in this, but it had to be done, because she could not live without him.

The symbols came easily, to one as learned as she, but the words were harder. They had to be spoken clearly, but her voice quivered. One mistake, and she would find herself no better off than her love, and his condition would be unchanged. Even if she succeeded, she had no idea if it would allow him to fight this curse, but she had to try.

"Lato fiatti tave'a mehan zha'khatei,

sa lato coule rie ae.

Fiatti sa fiatti,

tave'a sa tave'a.

Zha'khatei lato, sei a!

Without hesitation, she sliced open both of her palms, then his, and pressed their hands together. At once, she felt the power of Daco coursing through her, burning her from within. She kept her thoughts pure, praying silently for her spell to succeed, and for it to save his life and hers. If not, she would die with him tonight.

The bright sun shone down on him as he ran across the small meadow to the shore, tossing his bright-blue coat aside and stripping down to his smallclothes before diving into the chilly water.

Three gray wolves quietly emerged from the underbrush, watching the child as one would watch a turkey leg cooking over a fire. They cocked their head sideways as the boy saw them, and suddenly disappeared.

He could feel the water around him, circling him on all sides, but always just out of reach. He clawed at it, trying to lift some to his lips, but it flowed away. He tried to duck his head under to drink, but he tasted only air.

He watched the wolves on the shore, ripping through his clothing, but felt their teeth rend his flesh. He looked at his hands, and saw gashes across each palm, his blood dripping into the water. His life fell away, one drop at a time. The redness swirled into the clear river, like a vortex drawing him—

Fifteen years, and his parents still wouldn't take him anywhere. He had traveled every inch of this forest, from the serpent-infested river to the impassable mountains. He knew every wolf by sight, and which of them were friendly. He couldn't get lost in these woods now, no matter how hard he tried.

He walked calmly through the familiar woods, searching for something to drink. The water here was dangerous, and not suitable even for swimming. He remembered that he used to swim in it and drink it, not long ago, but somehow he knew it was different. The thirst pulled at him, and he started to run, walking across the surface of streams and ponds, knowing none of the water there was safe. He needed to drink so badly, yet nothing was there.

He started to weaken, a trail of red liquid following him. He tried to outrun it, but then he realized it came from him. The blood trickled from his palms, and his strength started to wane. He collapsed to the forest floor—

The desert sun beat down on him as he stared up from the sand. The strange rock cast a shadow over him, even though the sun was... No, there was no sun. The light and the heat came from the sky itself. His parents stood a short distance away, watching with approval, as he tried to get his bearings. He had knelt down before the stone, as his parents instructed him, and now he was on his back, and he felt that hours had passed.

On top of that, he was thirsty. The canteens his parents carried were suddenly empty, and it would take days to walk back to the edge of the desert. His hands hurt, and when he looked at them, he saw red gashes across each palm, caked with sand. What had they done to him? He felt something rushing through him, trying to rip his mind apart, and then felt someone else. His mother was kneeling over him, her palms clasped to his. No, it wasn't his mother. It was—

He opened his eyes, looking into Kirelle's loving gaze. The crescent moon looked down on them, and he felt the cuts on his palms pressed against the cuts on hers. He could see the blood trickling down between them, pooling on the ground to either side. What was she doing to him?

And what was that feeling? This was no dream, but he still felt some sort of force rushing through his body. It passed from his hands to his arms, into his chest and legs, and then started coming up toward his head. He opened his eyes wide, and something struck him. It wasn't a physical blow, but a mental one. He couldn't describe it, but he felt new power within him. New magic moved to his command. But it wasn't just new magic, but also old magic. The force intertwined with his own powers, and he felt himself growing stronger than he had ever thought possible. The power of the enforcers could not possibly stand up to this much magic—

In an instant, he felt the magic around him, seeming eager to obey his every command. He felt Kirelle collapse weakly onto his chest, but he felt her heart still beating, if weakly, and knew she still lived. He would live too, and no power in the Frame would stop him.

* * *

The crescent moon was high in the sky as he crept silently over the rise. This wasn't quite as easy as stalking through the city, but he managed as well as any other. The village of Sankasi slept soundly, but Rotai wasn't one to take chances while on a mission. Of course, this mission would not see his purse grow by a single coin, and in fact had cost him the money needed to borrow a horse to take him this far from Serpentooth, but it was necessary. The cultists had grabbed Rikket by his heart, quite literally, and taken him here. It was time to sever the cord.

He stayed clear of the wrecked hover-skiff at the edge of town. It looked safe enough, but his instincts told him it was dangerous, and instincts were not to be ignored. He crept to the center of town, knowing that if one person left their cabin, he would likely be spotted. Even this dim moonlight was enough to see a man out in the open.

It had taken several hours of watching from one of the surrounding hills before he had seen someone that resembled the girl from Serpentooth. He had made careful note of which cabin she had emerged from and re-entered, and he would have to be even more careful not to wake his friend. This would be much easier if Rikket didn't know the identity of the killer.

Rotai had killed countless dozens of people for one reason or another and the consequences of failure were always dire, but this was the worst of all. Whether or not he succeeded, there would be suffering, and likely not his own. Still, this was the right choice. The girl had to die.

One step at a time, he moved cautiously across the sandy ground, his eyes constantly flickering over each cabin. He was only ten paces from the door now, and—

Suddenly, he heard a sound coming from another cabin, and froze in place. One heavy step, three lighter steps, a pause, and four more heavy steps sounded before it went silent again. He breathed slowly and turned back toward his goal. Ten long paces later, his hand touched the door.

There was no lock. In a remote village like this, he supposed they wouldn't use them. The door opened slowly, without a squeak, and he saw the faint outline of a sleeping woman.

Wait, something wasn't right. That was the girl, but where was Rikket? He stepped quietly into the cabin, and looked down at the body. Rotai had thought the girl was merely sleeping with her head resting on her shoulder, and that much was true. The problem was that the head was no longer attached to the neck. The sheets were drenched in blood and the mattress seemed to have a long slice in it, in line with the severed neck, as if someone had cut through the entire bed in the same stroke that killed her.

At the sound of someone exhaling softly, he spun around and drew a pair of knives, but stopped just as quickly. With a metallic whisk, the Blade Staff retracted into a six-inch cylinder, and Xentor nodded a greeting, as cordial as if this were a dinner engagement.

"Where is he?" Rotai asked softly, sheathing his knives. He didn't entirely trust the man, but he knew that a knife would be little use against him.

"Somewhere safe. We will deal with this situation."

"You know he loves her."

"Not for much longer." The red-cloaked figure gestured, and a point of red light sprang open into one of his holes in the air. Rotai stood silently as the wizard departed, then looked once more at the body before starting the long journey back to Serpentooth.

# 

# Part VIII - Alien

##

The Telthan attack cruiser descended toward the green planet like a predator seeking its evening meal. The world sat defenseless, its planetary shield already destroyed by the initial strike. The cruiser signaled the rest of the fleet, and a hundred ships moved in formation, dropping into a low orbit and preparing the plasma shells. If this could be done quickly, they might have some time to rest before they were scheduled to move on to the next world.

The fleet captains transmitted their status report, and all was ready. The lead cruiser initiated the first drop, and began the planetary bombardment. The first plasma shell rocketed down toward the largest city, and then—

Alarms rang and warning lights flashed. The plasma shell had exploded too soon. Much too soon. A moment earlier, and it would have still been in range of the ship. How was this possible?

A tiny personal transport emerged from the atmosphere and came up on the scanners, flying up toward the cruiser as if it intended to face the entire fleet. Were these people that foolish, that they would use a ship of that size to attack instead of for the evacuation? It was irrelevant, though. More plasma shells were already launching, and the ship-to-ship weaponry was targeting the tiny vessel for elimination.

More alarms sounded, and explosions rocked every ship in the fleet. The shields buckled, the weapons disintegrated, and the engines exploded outward into the blackness. The lights on the cruisers winked out as they lost power and began to lifelessly drift around the little green planet. The transport stopped a short distance away, then turned about and sank back into the atmosphere.

* * *

"That was amazing! You stopped all of them, just like that!" The diplomat exclaimed brightly as he watched the young man standing in silence at the front of the ship's small bridge. The pilot leaned sideways to see around him as he brought the transport down through the clouds.

"It's not as easy as it looks," was the boy's sullen reply. He hadn't spoken a word since they left the spaceport, and now seemed eager to return home.

"Oh, I understand completely. That must have taken tremendous amounts of power—"

"No, you don't understand at all. Destroying their bombs was easy. Destroying their weapons was easy. Disabling their ships was easy. Doing it all without losing control and killing their pilots, their crew, and maybe your entire planet..." The boy trailed off, shaking his head sadly and silently leaving the command bridge.

Rikket breathed slowly and deliberately as he walked down the corridor and entered his sleeping quarters. He hadn't meant to scare them like that, but every word was true. In the past couple months, his magic had grown to levels he didn't think were possible, but there seemed to be a price attached. He still couldn't remember what had happened that day in Serpentooth, but the results terrified him. When he was reaching out to the magic to disable the Telthan fleet, it felt like there was fire burning within him, begging to be set free to rain destruction down on his enemies. He didn't want to hurt anyone, but if he couldn't keep that fire in check, he didn't know what might occur.

Forming a dimensional portal usually only required a bit of concentration, but now that came almost without thought. The portal burst open beside him, and the fire threatened to explode outward and destroy the ship around him. All of the concentration that would have gone toward the portal now went toward wrapping the fire up tightly and holding it down inside his mind. Only when he stepped into Trans-D was he free of it, at least for a time.

* * *

"Look, you've been eyeing the girl ever since she started working here. Stop stalling and introduce yourself."

Niven shook his head, hiding behind his drink and trying to avoid Rotai's gaze. "I can't just—"

"Of course you can. She's right there." It was still early in the afternoon, and the common room was only sparsely-populated. Jalee and Nalla, the two serving girls working this shift, were talking quietly near the door to the kitchen. Nalla had showed up two months ago with only the clothes on her back, and Jalee had been nice enough to give her a job at the tavern.

"But what if she doesn't like me?"

The assassin had grown tired of the boy's reluctance, and tired of listening to him repeatedly sigh about how beautiful she was and how he'd like to kiss her. It was pathetic, really. Usually, he only had to deal with this in the evenings, after Niven finished his day's work at the smithy, but apparently his master had given him the day off.

"More wine, milord?" Rotai chuckled at the nearly-cowering boy who tried so hard not to make eye contact when Nalla came over to their table.

"Please, but no rush. Say, have you met my friend here?" He had to smile at the boy's terrified look. "This is Niven."

The attractive girl looked over at Niven, bowing her head politely. "It's good to meet you, milord. Would you like—"

"Niven here has been talking about you for a while now," he ignored the boy's pleading gaze, "And I think the two of you should get acquainted." He paused for a moment, his jaw nearly dropping as he looked toward the door. "I'll... just leave you kids alone."

The young man entering the tavern was the last one Rotai expected to see here. Dressed as usual in his fine, blue coat, Rikket seemed in good health, though perhaps not in good spirits.

"Hi," was the best the boy could manage as Rotai clasped hands with him.

"Where have you been, Rikket? I thought they'd killed you after what I saw in Sankasi." An image shot through his mind of blood dripping from Xentor's Blade Staff, and Rikket's severed head laying there in place of Kirelle's.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I rode out to visit you there, and—"

"Why would you look for me at the Sankasi ruins? I've never been there." Rotai looked into his old friend's eyes for a moment, waiting for a punch-line, but he didn't seem to be joking.

"You and that cult girl—"

"Who? Rotai, are you feeling alright?"

"I would ask you the same thing. I haven't seen you in two months—"

"Three, I think. Well, somewhere around there, ever since that little incident with the poison." Rikket sighed, wincing a bit as he remembered that day.

"Poison?"

The boy hesitated a moment. "Of course. Don't you remember? Someone tried to poison my drink. It was a good thing Xentor showed up and took me to Xen, or I might never have woken up. They said I was unconscious for more than two weeks."

"Yes, yes. I must have forgotten," Rotai responded slowly. Poison? Perhaps one could consider that love potion to be poison in some sense, but how could he not remember being taken to Sankasi? Unless—

"Where is he?" Rotai asked softly, sheathing his knives. He didn't entirely trust the man, but he knew that a knife would be little use against him.

"Somewhere safe. We will deal with this situation."

"You know he loves her."

"Not for much longer."

"That heartless bastard..."

"What? Who are you talking about, Rotai?"

"Forget it. Let's take a walk."

The two men stepped outside to chat, and Rikket filled him in on his adventures in the past two months. Apparently the poison he remembered had done something to his magic, and it was growing beyond his ability to control it. Rotai suspected that the cultists had something to do with that, but there was no sense in confusing the boy. Somehow, Xentor had wiped his memory of the entire incident, and effectively carved Kirelle out of his life entirely. In a way, it might have been merciful, but it was still wrong.

Rikket told him stories about huge battles between ships that apparently flew above the clouds, but none of it really seemed to make any sense. Of course, it wasn't until he mentioned talking to Trellia a few days ago that Rotai really needed another drink.

* * *

"Well, it's hard work, but my Master says I'll make a great blacksmith one day."

"That's wonderful, Niven. I..." She glanced over her shoulder hesitantly. "I should get back to work though."

The boy sighed, recognizing a dismissal when he heard it. He had been afraid Nalla wouldn't like him, and it seemed he was right.

"No, I... I didn't mean it like that. I... I just have to see to the customers..."

Niven lifted his eyes, wondering if she actually did like him. She started to turn away, and he reached a hand to her shoulder, about to ask if she wanted to meet later. Her terrified gasp surprised him, and he yanked his hand back quickly. She almost seemed to shrink in fear for a moment before recovering herself. That was when he caught a glimpse of something barely visible on her upper back, mostly hidden by her dress. It looked like some sort of scar, but he didn't want to offend her by commenting on it. Before he could think of something appropriate to say, she had vanished into the kitchen, and Jalee was giving him a disapproving look.

* * *

_"Tei, zha'nijo._ The Circle gathers. Let all speak as one, my brothers and sisters in time." Osseiria spoke the words, and called the meeting to order. The walls of the Great Temple surrounded them, echoing their words and hiding their gathering from the mortals. That was a silly term for it, she admitted to herself, since immortality was just one of the myths they let the younger races believe.

When the words of the ritual had been repeated by those gathered, she spoke again. "My brothers and sisters, it has been some time since we last met, and much has transpired. The Creators are gone, the Guardians are diminished, and both the Telthans and the Collective swarm through the Frame like locusts."

"The Telthans," Kavarian began, "are not our concern. We must not lower ourselves to meddling in the wars our children fight. That is beneath the purpose of the Circle." As always, he had to be the first to disagree with her.

"But which is more of a threat? The Telthans are destroying entire worlds, while the Collective merely conquers and enslaves the populations. With each victory against the latter, we free millions of those taken, yet no victory can restore a ruined world." Indeed, the Collective had done just as much damage as the Telthans, and they were far more difficult to defeat, but they had their limitations, and they had been pushed back a handful of times over the past millennia.

"Victory? Osseiria, you know as well as I that a victory against the Collective just leaves the world in chaos. Those they take can seldom return to their normal lives with their minds intact. Many are better off dead."

"Then perhaps," one of the younger deities announced, "We must adopt a new strategy." Valaneesh usually tended toward calm logic, and many of the others respected that in him, despite his mere second-order status. "The members of the Collective are quite difficult to eliminate, but perhaps they can be guided. Why fight on two fronts when we can help each side exterminate the other?"

Osseiria silently nodded her support of the proposal, and Kavarian seemed impressed enough to agree aloud. "A fine suggestion with only a slight risk. The Telthans and those serving the Collective would not easily coexist, and while they battle, we can concentrate on our goal."

"Unfortunately," Valaneesh replied, a bit more hesitantly, "this must be done quickly. The Collective is expanding again, and they are moving toward Uranan territory."

Those words silenced the gathering as the Circle members thought of the consequences of such an expansion. The young deity had been careful in his choice of words, but the thought of the Collective invading Earth sent a shiver down their spines.

"They're coming here?" Was all Osseiria could manage. It had been thousands of years since the last time they had tried to attack the center of the Circle's power, and they had been only barely driven back. The people on the surface had suffered greatly in that short time, and even today, their mythology spoke of those dark days.

Valaneesh nodded solemnly. "War is coming."

## * * *

"The sun had nearly set when Rotai returned from his walk, now alone. Rikket was gone again, probably fighting a war or saving some unknown race somewhere. It was always hard to picture the kind of things he did, but fortunately Rotai could just lump it into the "somewhere else" category in his mind, and not think about it too much. Regardless, Anya would be happy to hear that Trellia was still alive, or alive again, or—

There seemed to be some sort of commotion in front of the Crescent Moon Tavern. Niven was at the doorway with his sword bared, holding back an odd collection of people who were trying to enter. The tough-looking ape of a man was well known in these parts, but Barok was keeping strange company these days. The fiery-haired woman to his left had been here before, Rotai was sure, but somehow she seemed more dangerous now. The old man on the slaver's right was dressed like a wizard of some sort, in ragged robes, but didn't seem very threatening.

The two men behind them truly gave Rotai pause, as they were more out-of-place than the other three combined. Each was dressed in a form-fitting, gray uniform with sections that looked like concealed armor plating. The insignias on their chests and backs meant nothing to the assassin, but the weapons they held were all too obvious. They bore a slight resemblance to the ones used a couple years ago by the mercenaries that kidnapped Trellia, but they seemed a bit more sleek and streamlined. Rotai knew little of those rifles, as the other ones were called, but it was obvious that Barok had found outside assistance.

"You can't have her!" Niven yelled, holding his sword as if about to fight a duel. The barbarian facing him wore no sword or knife that Rotai could see, but rather a mean-looking whip coiled over his shoulder.

"I have already _had_ her, boy. She is mine. Now step aside before I decide to take you too." The slaver's voice sounded like a low growl, but there was no hint of fear, for good reason. The old man beside him held out a hand, conjuring a small fireball that began to grow. Would they really kill the boy over this? Who were they after, anyway?

"If... If you want her..." Niven's voice was cracking, and the fear was nearly palpable. "You have to go through me!"

Rotai carefully drew one of his throwing knives, moving casually to the mouth of the nearby alley, but hesitated. He could easily take out one or two before they spotted him, but not all five. Normally that would be enough, but it was obvious that at least three of them could kill him easily from a distance.

"Very well. Go through him." At the slaver's word, the old man hurled the fireball, now a foot wide, at the shocked boy. Niven had only enough time to drop his sword and leap aside to avoid the fire, and Barok casually walked inside with the red-haired woman.

The assassin glanced up at the rooftops, his preferred vantage points, but could tell that it would be little help against this group. A younger assassin might try to tackle this lot single-handed, but boys like that seldom made it to Rotai's age. Choosing when to fight was often more important than knowing how to fight, he knew, and this was neither the time nor the place.

It wasn't long before Barok emerged from the tavern, his whip wrapped around the neck of a young woman like a leash and collar. Nalla, the new serving girl, didn't even struggle as he marched her out, seeming resigned to her fate. Rotai's attention, however, was now on the tavern itself. That fireball had missed Niven, but smoke now rose from the wooden building.

Coughing men and women hurried out the front door, paying no attention to the slaver and his companions as they departed. Rotai abandoned stealth and rushed over to help, but he noticed right away that something wasn't quite right. He could see the fire devouring the interior of the Crescent Moon, and he could hear the crackling flames and splintering wood, but he felt no heat, and the air smelled entirely normal. Bracing himself in case he was mistaken, he stepped forward and reached a hand into the nearest flames, ready to pull it back quickly if he felt the slightest heat.

His hand grasped cold wood. It was all a trick. Several of the patrons, crouched low and trying to avoid being burned, were starting to realize the same thing. The coughing men outside now saw that it was all in their mind, and breathed deeply of the evening air. Rotai was already on his way outside to pursue the slaver, but he stepped into the street and saw no trace of them. The blazing inferno faded away, and everything was back to normal.

Niven picked himself up from the floor and retrieved his sword, a sullen look on his face. "He took her, Rotai. He took Nalla."

The assassin nodded, not very concerned about a tavern wench right now. Why was a filthy slaver like Barok hiring alien mercenaries, or at least using alien weapons? What was to stop him from taking people by the dozen, with this new-found power? Rotai was no hero, but he had to look out for his interests, and what would stop them from coming for Anya next? That could not be allowed.

"We have to save her, Rotai. I can't let him keep her. I just can't." The boy was in love, or perhaps lust, and wasn't thinking things through.

"He's right, Rotai." Anya glided over calmly, her harp still sitting on stage. No one was listening to the music now, anyway. "But those weapons are not from this world. We should send word to Ka'Loen and let Xentor handle it."

"I'll leave a message for Rikket. With any luck, he'll come back in a day or two, and then we can figure something out."

As the moon rose silently over the treetops, Rotai walked slowly down the forest path, watching both sides carefully. This was not a safe road to travel at night, but the assassin was a dangerous man to confront at any time.

"As you leave town, follow the path until it curves right, then look to the left for a tree with three trunks."

He didn't understand why this was all so secretive, but Rikket had trusted him with this information, and now was as good a time as any to use it. He only hoped the woods weren't too dense around it, because it was becoming difficult to see.

As expected, the path curved to the right, and the tree he sought was barely visible off to the left side of the path. Stepping carefully through the underbrush, Rotai placed his hand on the trunk, as Rikket had instructed, and spoke the word.

"Mah'siavol."

The reaction was immediate. A web of red light spread between that tree and the one beside it, soon solidifying into a spiraling red vortex. If he hadn't already been informed, this may have frightened him, but he trusted the boy as much as anyone.

_Mah'siavol_ , Rikket had said, meant "Portal" in some old language. This one led to a specific location, one that Rotai would have doubted if he was not standing in it. Gateway Palace wasn't all that impressive, looking more like the common room of a tavern, but supposedly he was now flying a mile above the ground, and that would impress just about anyone. He left the message he intended, and stepped carefully down the curved staircase to watch the world turn below.

* * *

A pair of eyes watched the forest, hidden beneath a hooded cloak. The assassin mumbled some magic spell and vanished into a red vortex. The girl stepped closer, having no trouble seeing in the darkness, but no matter how closely she examined the tree, she could find nothing out of the ordinary. There was strange magic at work here, and the only mage she knew in Serpentooth had mysteriously vanished.

She knew it was silly to follow Rotai around like this, but she had heard that Rikket was in town a few hours before sunset, and the assassin was a friend of his. Had he escaped the cultist's love potion, or had she just realized that it worked in both directions and killed herself? Playing with strange magic was foolish at best and dangerous at worst, but who was she to lecture anyone on dangerous choices?

It wasn't long before the vortex formed again, and the assassin emerged, a bit disoriented. She followed him back to town, amused at how often he tripped over roots and stones in the darkness, and then veered away from him to the Black Lamb, to get something to eat before starting her nightly run.

* * *

The throwing knife thudded into the table, and Rikket sat down. "I got your message. What's going on?"

"Barok."

The man moved slowly from the shadows, holding a metal stick in one hand. Rikket heard footsteps behind him, and looked in time to see three more show up, holding sticks and knives. He tried to watch them all at once, but they were all around him now, playing with their sticks and knives as if they planned to use them on something.

_"Barok should like this one." The man made a quick hand gesture to one of the others, and Rikket turned to see a stick coming down on his head_.

"I've heard of him." Rikket took a deep breath when he realized he was gritting his teeth in anger. That was years ago, the distant past now. It remained clear in his head, though, as the first time he had ever been attacked by other people. He remembered the years before that, in the forest, when the very idea of one intelligent being hurting another seemed unthinkable. Now he dealt with violence every day, though he was still unable to respond in kind.

"He came to the tavern a couple days ago with his friends, and kidnapped one of the serving girls."

"Rotai, you know I'm not allowed to interfere—"

"Two of them had rifles. Those fancy-looking metallic ones. Definitely not from around here, if you get my meaning."

Rikket nodded, a concerned look on his face. "I'd heard the Telthans were looking to make friends here, but why would they ally with a slaver?"

"The way Barok's going, he might have a small kingdom before long. Rumor has it he took up residence in an abandoned castle a ways north of here. Niven and I were going to pay him a visit, and you're welcome to join us."

"That might not be wise, Rotai. I told you how my magic has been lately. I don't want to hurt anyone."

"Then find Xentor and his people. These slavers are using alien weapons, and that makes it his problem. He should be handling this."

Rikket sighed, shaking his head. The Guardians were so busy fighting the Telthans and serving the Council, that they wouldn't spare a single hour for a local problem like this. There wouldn't be any others, and he couldn't let Rotai go alone, or with Niven, which was almost the same thing. It had to be done.

"Get yourselves ready, and meet me in the alley."

## * * *

The moon shone down on the ancient castle, illuminating the stone walls and giving light to the barren courtyard. Moonlight, however, was inadequate for Barok's purposes, and the spotlights mounted at the four corner guard-towers swept across the ground within and beyond the walls. A number of carriages sat idle near the front gate, the drivers tending the horses while the passengers dined under the stars.

"Do I hear ten pieces for this fine specimen? Ten? Ten pieces, to the bearded gentleman up front. Do I hear fifteen?" The auctioneer rambled on to the rich noblemen as a pair of Barok's men held onto the terrified, half-naked girl on the platform. She would probably fetch at least forty pieces with this crowd, a mere pittance, but it did add up after a while. The master of the fortress watched from his window in the keep, seeming pleased at the professionalism of his employees. This was a business like any other, and he was in it to make a profit, among other things.

"Sold, for forty-five pieces to the gentleman in the green coat!"

"Your auction seems to be going well, Barok." The green-skinned woman behind him was all too familiar.

"Yes, it's quite profitable."

"How are your expansion plans going?"

"There's plenty of room in this castle for now. As soon as the new cells are finished, I intend to fill them. If you'd care to stay the night, I believe I'll be ready to purchase some more of those rifles when the auction is done."

The woman smiled pleasantly, an odd look for her, and nodded before turning to the door. He glanced down at her tail, wondering as usual what she really was. She obviously wasn't human, but beyond that, he wasn't sure. It really didn't matter, of course. Nothing was going to ruin his plans.

* * *

The portal closed, and Rotai's party crept silently to the edge of the woods, looking across a barren field at the fortress. Niven moved with one hand on the hilt of his sword, seeming perpetually afraid, while Rotai moved with the calm grace of one accustomed to life-or-death situations.

Rikket took up the rear, a pace behind Anya, who had insisted on coming along. She was decently-skilled with a rapier, but this was still a dangerous idea, and it was quite likely that some of them would not make it out alive.

"They've cleared it well," Rotai commented. "We won't be able to reach the walls unseen, and those look like guards patrolling the battlements."

The young Sentinel breathed slowly, seeming to be straining against something. "I can get you to the walls, but I'm not sure how much further."

"Tiring already, Rikket?"

"It's been a long day, and if I lose control, I... I don't know what might happen."

Niven gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, scared out of his mind, but still determined to press forward. "Well, let's do this."

Rikket nodded, and in a moment, they had all vanished. "Stay close," he remarked, and footprints appeared in the soft ground, moving toward the castle.

"To what?" Niven hurriedly started to follow the footprints, and heard Rotai and Anya moving alongside him. It was a lot more difficult to walk when you couldn't see your feet, but they managed well enough, and soon reached the walls of Barok's fortress.

"That's one hurdle passed," Rotai whispered when they reappeared. "Can you get us through the walls, too?"

"Not without alerting the guards."

"All that magic, but a stone wall is impassable?"

"I told you, Rotai, I can barely control it. That portal drained me so much that invisibility was all I could manage. I need some rest before I can do much more."

"Then we'll have to do this the old-fashioned way," the assassin sighed as he led them along the wall to the front gate. One of those circles of light was focused in the entryway, and he could see two soldiers with rifles on guard. Fortunately, this was well within Rotai's realm of expertise, he thought as he drew a pair of throwing knives.

* * *

"Sixty-five! Do I hear seventy? Seventy pieces for this fine-looking woman? Seventy pieces? Sixty-five going once. Sixty-five going twice. Sold to the gentleman in the back for sixty-five pieces." The auction continued, and the faint _thunks_ of knives plunging into necks went unnoticed. No one turned to see the four shadowy figures creeping along the edge of the courtyard, and no one saw them move quietly around the back of the keep.

"Now, this strong young man comes to us from the villages near the western mountains. He'd be perfect for heavy lifting, construction, or for more intimate services if the ladies prefer it. I'll start the bidding at ten pieces."

* * *

The Xianite staff flashed three times, cutting a doorway in the stone wall. The cuts were barely visible, but the inside of the rectangle budged slightly inward when pushed. Rotai glanced behind him, checking to make sure none of the guards were in sight, and then nodded to his companions.

"This won't be quiet, so get your weapons ready." He waited a moment for Niven and Anya to draw their blades, and then looked to Rikket, who now held his retracted Blade Staff at his side, the five-inch cylinder looking harmless.

With a mighty shove from Rotai and Niven, the newly-made doorway crashed inward, the sound of shattering stone echoing through the hallways. The assassin and the blacksmith hurried in first, quickly choosing a direction and rushing down the empty corridor as Anya and Rikket followed.

A ball of fire splashed against the wall inches ahead of Rotai as he rounded the first corner. A red-haired woman stood at the far end of the next hallway, tossing a fireball up and down in her hand like a child's ball.

"You're not supposed to be here, assassin."

"Neither are you." The throwing knife left his hand, but she had already ducked around the next corner. The blade clattered uselessly against the wall, and Rotai rushed forward to pursue her.

"Ho there, friends!" A yell from an open doorway stopped him, and he stepped into the room carefully. It actually looked like several rooms had been joined to make this large chamber, and perhaps the now-missing walls were what comprised the four statues within.

"Who are you?" Niven remarked, eyeing the short, stout man who was busy molding the last bits of a seven-foot-tall statue. He was actually pulling small rocks out of a bucket and spreading them on the surface of the statue as if they were bits of soft clay.

"Me? I am called Tychen, the Rockmage. What do you think of my creations?"

"Impressive," the assassin began, "But we're not here to critique art."

Tychen looked over at them, spreading one last rock onto a statue's leg. "Then allow them to critique you." He quickly grabbed another small rock from the bucket and threw it at Rotai, running for a doorway on the far side.

Not even bothering to do more than tilt his head to avoid the clumsy throw, he started after the short man, stopping short when he heard the rumbling behind him. His three companions quickly stepped aside as the thrown rock struck a precariously-wedged piece of wood, and a pile of debris fell from a shelf to pile in the doorway. Perhaps the throw was not so clumsy after all, but it wouldn't save the man.

That was about when the first stone hand grabbed onto his shoulder.

"Rotai, they're alive!" Anya had her rapier out, and was sidestepping around the now-moving statues, trying to figure out how to help. Niven moved in the other direction, trying to surround them. Why bother surrounding them? These things were made of solid rock, and nothing they had would cut through them.

A blur of motion caught his eye, and he fell from the statue's grasp, a severed stone arm landing beside him. A piece of metal streaked past him, and he saw Rikket dancing among them with his Blade Staff, cutting slices of stone from them as if they were made of tissue paper. They swung fists at him, but he dipped and dodged to avoid being struck. "Go! I'll handle these!"

Rotai and Anya exchanged a quick glance, both obviously concerned for the boy, but knew their blades could do nothing against these monstrosities, while Rikket stood a fighting chance. He beckoned to Niven, and then ran through the next doorway and down the corridor, the sounds of combat fading behind them.

A flight of stairs later, the red-haired woman met them again, seeming to be enjoying this. Fire splashed the stone wall beside them, and a wall of flames rose to fill the corridor in front of her, moving slowly in their direction.

"Barok doesn't like intruders, assassin! When you pass to the next life, make sure to tell them that Pylerra sent you!"

Rotai growled, trying to see through the approaching flames to find his target. "Bloody mages. Come on." He ducked into the nearest doorway, followed by Anya and Niven.

"Drop the knives, old man." Perfect. He had escaped a wall of fire, only to bungle into a guard room. Six men were there, two wearing their armor, the rest in nightclothes. One had a rifle pointed at Rotai, and two others were already grabbing their own weapons.

"We got them, Pylerra!" One of the soldiers called out, and the flames in the hallway faded.

"Good! Now I can get some sleep!" Footsteps faded, and the soldiers turned their attention back to their captives a moment too late.

Rotai's arm came around to knock the nearest rifle aside, and he rolled to the right while drawing his knives. Did these youngsters actually think they could take him down that easily? He hadn't lived this long in such a dangerous trade by being easy to kill. The knives left his hand, one plunging into each of the other armed soldiers while Niven and Anya slashed and stabbed the first. In mere moments, they had gone from facing twice their number to an even fight, and the remaining three were unarmed.

He drew his daggers and advanced.

* * *

"My lord, we have intruders in the fortress. Four of them, I believe. I recognized two of them from Serpentooth. The assassin leads them." Pylerra really needed some sleep, but some things just couldn't wait. She tried not to look at the green-skinned woman next to Barok, always feeling a bit uncomfortable around her.

"Well, deal with them. You know what to do." She paused a moment, then nodded. The guards already had them in custody, but it was always best not to assume victory until it was assured. She left the room, heading back downstairs to check on them.

"Intruders, Barok? This does not inspire confidence."

"They'll be dealt with, Cyari, just like all the others. Why else do you think I employ the best mages in the region?"

"Don't be overconfident, slaver. I may deal with these personally. If your fire-mage's assassin is the one I suspect, I will enjoy a rematch. I cut him down once, and I will do so again."

* * *

Rotai wiped the blood from his daggers, stepping off the dead soldiers and checking on Niven and Anya. "Everyone alright?"

The two nodded, cleaning their blades and standing. Neither was a very accomplished fighter, but together they had been able to take down the third soldier, while the assassin expertly fell the first two. It was better than nothing, he supposed.

"Rotai," Anya began as she sheathed her rapier, "We should go back for Rikket. He might be hurt."

"He can take care of himself." The assassin stepped out into the hallway, but then dropped quickly to the floor as a crossbow bolt flew through the air where his face had been moments before. Three men were crouched at the far end of the hall, wearing leather harnesses instead of the alien armor, knives and swords sheathed all over them. It seemed Barok had employed some local muscle as well.

"What is it?" Niven was picking up one of the rifles, trying to figure out how to activate it, or whether it was already set to fire.

"Three with crossbows," he said as he slipped back into the room.

Anya smiled confidently, strolling over to the doorway. "Now that's something I can handle."

"This isn't the time to play wizard, Anya." That blasted necklace of her was going to get her killed one of these days.

"Have any better ideas?" She stepped out the door, gazing down the hallway at the three men. The crossbows fired almost in unison, a chorus of faint snaps as the bowstrings launched their bolts, perfectly aimed, at Anya's chest. Time seemed to slow down for her, and red clouds filled her vision, the necklace growing warm against her skin and the magic bending to her will. She had practiced a great deal since she received it all those years ago, and though she might never be a powerful sorcerer, she could still be useful.

The bolts flew through the air, and she willed the clouds to intercept and catch them, a relatively simple trick she had perfected with coins and stones. The red mists coalesced in the path of each bolt, and—

The bolts flew through the clouds, unimpeded. She had only a moment to feel the fear and shock as they plunged through her chest. She thought she could feel them breaking through her skin and piercing her heart, and for a second, she knew she was about to die. That second passed, and so did the next. The clouds faded from her vision, and she looked down at herself, expecting to see her dress stained with blood, but there was none.

"Filthy mages," Rotai growled as he stepped into the hallway. Anya watched him walk fearlessly toward the crossbowmen, and then looked down at herself again, not understanding how she survived.

"Are you alright, Anya?" The young blacksmith, Niven, was holding one of those rifles like he was born with it, probably just copying the way the soldiers had held theirs.

"I... I think so. What happened there?"

"Illusions," remarked the assassin. He waved his hands through the heads of the crossbowmen, and they dissolved into mist. "Come on."

"I'm afraid I can't let you proceed." The deep voice came from all directions and none, but Rotai was unafraid. He stepped around the next corner and entered the first doorway, Anya and Niven at his heels.

The next chamber was nothing like they expected. Torches shone from all four walls, spaced between the narrow window slits, but the floor of the room simply wasn't there. Rotai looked down, and saw empty air leading to the ground miles below. In some ways, it reminded him of the Viewing Room in Xentor's flying building, though he knew this couldn't possibly be real.

A head shimmered into view in the center, floating on air, its gray hair whipping in some breeze that Rotai couldn't feel. It was an impressive illusion, but still only just that.

"Turn and go home, intruders. You may not pass. Take your knives and swords and leave this place."

"Niven, shoot him."

"What, the floating head? It's not real." So the boy wasn't entirely clueless.

"He must be in this room somewhere." Rotai turned to Niven, meeting his gaze for a moment, and the young blacksmith smiled and nodded. The two others stepped back through the doorway, and the fireworks began.

Niven turned to the left and started shooting wildly, pulses of yellow light flying from the tip of the rifle, several each second, as he swept it slowly across the room. There was a fair chance that the invisible mage would be missed entirely, but who would take such a chance? As the spray of light neared the right side of the room, the illusion faded.

The walls were spotted with craters from Niven's rifle, and some of the long tables sported large, smoking holes. A wall hanging on the right side was shaking slightly, as if it just had been moved, but none of this really held Niven's attention.

He focused on the two soldiers at the opposite doorway, which until a moment ago was hidden beneath the illusion. Two rifles spat yellow light at him, and he felt a searing pain as something ripped into his side. Pushing it to the back of his mind, he returned fire, the room seeming to rotate sideways as it faded to blackness.

* * *

"Do I hear sixty for this fine creature? Sixty pieces? Sixty, from the beautiful woman to my left. Do I hear sixty-five? Come now, lords and ladies! This exquisite specimen will make your dreams come true! Surely she's worth more than sixty pieces! Yes, sixty-five, to the gentleman in the gold-trimmed cloak. Do I hear seventy?"

The auctioneer rambled on below, and Barok watched silently from his window. He had heard the eruption of rifle fire as they fought their way past his hired muscle, and he knew they would soon reach his private office. If they were not stopped, this would all be over, and Barok would be no more.

Cyari patted him on the shoulder, full of confidence. She still thought she could defeat the intruders herself, and perhaps she could. The alien woman always seemed to have one more trick up her sleeve, and she would need every single one of them tonight.

* * *

"Anya, see what you can do for him." Rotai retrieved his throwing knives from the dead soldiers, looking back at Anya as she knelt over the fallen boy. His injuries were serious, but she had healed worse, and the heat from the rifle projectiles seemed to have cauterized the wounds immediately.

"Rotai, you can't do this alone. Let's find Rikket and get out of this place."

The assassin paid her no heed, stepping through the next doorway and ascending the staircase. He had to be near the top level of the keep by now. How many more floors could there be?

"You look tired, Rotai. Sure you're up for a fight?" He reached the top of the stairs, and found him face-to-face with the alien woman he had seen so many times in Serpentooth.

"Cyari." He hadn't expected to see her here, but it was too late to turn back. He could see Barok sitting comfortably at a large, wooden desk on the far side of the room, one of those soldiers standing on each side of him. Strangely, they made no move against him, letting the green woman deal with him personally.

"I defeated you once, assassin. Care to try your luck again?" Daggers seemed to materialize in her hands, probably drawn from hidden sheathes on her forearms. His own daggers were in his hands just as quickly, and they began to circle. She had indeed bested him once, but this time he would be prepared. He had been surprised last time, by the way that tail of hers let her balance differently, and he hadn't adapted to her style quickly enough.

"Enough talk." He struck first, steel clanging against steel in a lightning-fast rhythm as their blades met. She was as skilled as he, but he did this for a living.

A dagger slipped past his guard, nearly slicing into his cheek before he stepped back, and another left a shallow gash in his shoulder. She was too fast, and he was already worn out from fighting his way into the fortress. This entire duel was pointless, at that, since even if he managed to kill Cyari, the two soldiers would simply shoot him.

Still, he had no intention of losing. His daggers knocked hers apart, and he delivered a kick that sent her stumbling backward. Pressing the offensive now, he forced her to the wall, striking and blocking as fast as he could, trying to end this before his muscles gave out.

Her kick caught him by surprise, and her tail coiled around his left ankle, sending him down on his back. The hard floor winded him momentarily, but he brought his daggers up just in time to knock hers aside as she leaped on him. For a few seconds, their blades locked there, her lying on top of him as if their interaction was quite different.

"Having fun, assassin?" She smiled deviously, taunting him as her daggers pressed against his, pinning his arms apart while her full weight was on his torso.

"The time of my life," he growled, kicking upward and struggling, trying to get her off him.

She laughed, then thrust her head down and locked her lips to his. Was she actually kissing him? What kind of twisted mind was behind those eyes? Regardless, she was a fool.

He let go of his daggers, instead grabbing her hands and forcing them open, twisting her wrists backwards painfully. He felt her sharp intake of breath, and brought his arms in. Now he had the leverage.

Slowly and steadily, fighting every inch of the way, he forced her upward, bringing his legs between them. When his feet were against her chest, he flashed a brief smile before thrusting them out with all of his strength. He released one wrist and heard the snap as the other arm was dislocated. The woman flew back into the wall, and he got to his feet, admittedly with some difficulty.

"Kill him." Barok's voice snapped him to full alertness, and he took his gaze off Cyari long enough to fling a pair of throwing knives into the necks of the two soldiers.

He snapped his eyes back to the green-skinned alien, expecting to see her barreling full-force into him, but she was still crumpled against the wall. She had managed to roll up one of her coat-sleeves, revealing a strangely-carved metallic bracelet, and was using her nose to press a point on it, the other arm hanging uselessly at an odd angle.

"Master, I need help," she said weakly. "Our interests are in jeopardy."

Rotai hesitated a moment, at first thinking she spoke to Barok, but then he realized she was talking to the bracelet itself. Was that how she contacted the other aliens? He could not allow that. Unfortunately, it was too late.

Even as he reached for the last of his throwing knives, a point of yellow light appeared in the air before him, stretching sideways into a line, then forming a tall rectangle. The interior filled in, and four soldiers emerged, wearing heavier armor than the rest. He hurled his knives at them, but they clattered uselessly against metal chest-plates.

The being that followed was unlike anything Rotai had seen before. It glided along on five tentacle-like legs, and seemed to have three arms spaced around its torso. It was a true bug-eyed monster, and he instinctively backed away.

"Thank you, Master," Cyari smiled up at him, only to be struck down by a blast of energy from the first soldier's rifle.

Rotai backed himself against the wall, knowing he had no chance of even hurting this many soldiers unarmed. As if to grind in the certainty of his death, three figures stepped through the doorway, the fire-haired woman smirking at him. The short, stout man with the hammer seemed just as confident, leading Rotai to wonder if Rikket had survived against those moving statues. The third man, his gray hair resembling that of the floating head, had to be the one behind the illusions.

"Emperor Taksal." Barok's voice sounded, as the man finally stood, seeming completely at-ease. He glanced at the window behind him, holding a hand up, two fingers extended in some sort of signal.

The tentacled alien turned toward the slaver, his expression indecipherable. A monotone voice came from a device around its neck. "Barok, you weakling—"

"Emperor Taksal," he repeated, "By order of the Trans-Dimensional Council, you have been tried and found guilty..."

"Kill him!" The Telthan soldiers raised their rifles to Barok, but a mere gesture sent the weapons tumbling out of their grasp, and flying to either side.

"Guilty of crimes against sentience." A red mist surrounded the slaver, and before their eyes, he shifted to his true form and stepped slowly around the desk.

"Guardian!" The alien tapped something on a metal circlet on one arm, if it could be called that. It tapped it again, a low growl emitting from its translator.

"For what you did to Lenalta, I would see you burned alive over a period of years." Xentor's cape flared out behind him, a metallic whisk sounding as he extended his Blade Staff. "But this will have to do."

The Xianite weapon spun in his grip, slashing down across the alien's torso. Taksal seemed to hover there for a moment, as if refusing to accept the inevitable, before his upper body slid to the floor in a puddle of white fluid. The soldiers backed away in fear, but the sorcerer's wrath seemed to be sated.

"Claqren, have the men deactivate the portal field, and start releasing the prisoners." The old man nodded, bowing slightly before turning to the door.

Rotai watched his old friend, trying to wrap his mind around what had occurred. "But Barok—"

"Has been dead for some time now."

"And the slaves? And the men we killed?" Had he actually masterminded this vile business for all this time, just to get to his old enemy?

"A necessary sacrifice." With a metallic whisk, the Blade Staff retracted, the man looking no less threatening.

"Hundreds of men and women are in chains, just because you—"

"Do not question my actions, assassin. Taksal held his armies together by force of will and fear of death, and today's events may end a war that has claimed billions of lives. If I have to kill a thousand people to achieve that end, so be it."

The cold voice of the Guardian could suffer no response. For the first time, the assassin backed away from his old friend, wondering if he had underestimated what the man was really capable of doing. He nearly bumped into Anya, as she and Rikket carried Niven into the room.

The Sentinel spared a glance for Xentor, managing a slight smile as he saw the two halves of Taksal gracing the chamber floor. "What did I miss?"

## * * *

A four-piece band played a merry tune in the tavern that evening, and the tables were pushed to the walls to lend enough space for dancing. The uplifted mood was a rare event for the Crescent Moon, but the destruction of Barok's fortress was an event worth celebrating.

News had spread quickly, once men and women were reunited with their long-lost friends and relatives, now free from bondage. Rich nobles had been disappointed when they were unexpectedly ejected from their discrete auction, finding themselves fleeing for their lives from the former slaves they had intended to purchase.

Niven and Nalla danced closely in the center of the throng, as Rotai and Anya watched from the side. The assassin was never much for celebration, still troubled by the turn of events he had witnessed. Besides him, only Anya and Niven knew what had truly happened, but no one else seemed to care.

"Come, Rotai. Dance with me." The beautiful bard extended her hand to him, and he could not refuse.

* * *

Several days later, on the distant world of Tavni Kintara, one of the three home worlds of the Evassian Triumverate, a crowd gathered in the central plaza of Capital City. Here, as in countless cities on countless worlds across the Frame, a message was broadcast, an image large enough to be seen from miles away.

"Ladies, gentlemen, and beings of the member races of the Trans-Dimensional Council, let me first offer my sincere apologies for the actions of my predecessor, the now-deceased Emperor Taksal. His administration has been terminated, and those still loyal to his regime are either dead or in hiding."

The image of the tentacled alien shrank, the view backing away to show the collection of humanoids standing behind her. Xentor and Treloc flanked her, with Rikket and Trellia standing to their sides. A hundred men and women in differently-colored cloaks were arrayed behind them, Xianite staffs and swords drawn and held vertically in a show of respect. Representatives from dozens of races completed the assembly, all finely garbed for the ceremonial address.

"I am Empress Takesh, the new ruler of the Telthan Empire, and on behalf of my people, I offer a cease-fire to the Xen Guardians, pending a formal cessation of hostilities. Furthermore, the Telthan Empire wishes to immediately and openly request admission to the Trans-Dimensional Council."

The gathered crowd let loose a deafening cheer, realizing this meant the end of the horrible war that had wracked the Frame for over seven years. New alliances would be formed, new commerce unveiled, and new friends made. With the help of the Council, the Frame would be plunged into years of peace, or so they hoped. It was the end of one age, and the beginning of another, and it was reason for celebration.

One figure separated itself from the crowd, ignored by the rest as it walked to the nearest portal station. Hidden beneath a hooded robe, the figure stepped calmly and smoothly through the unguarded doorway.

"The Guardians can have their victory," the figure mumbled, as it stepped through the glowing portal into Trans-D space, "But the true war is yet to come."

###

#

# About the Author

Ian Shlasko was born in Rockland County, New York in 1980. After spending most of his childhood with his eyes glued to a computer monitor, he graduated from the State University of New York at Stony Brook with a B.S. degree in computer science. From there, he moved to New York City and began a career writing software for the financial industry.

Aside from a brief foray into screenwriting with a never-finished machinima film, his creative endeavors have revolved around the world of Xen, first dreamt up in the early '90s. A decade and a half elapsed between the creation of the first character and the completion of this first novel.

For more information about the author and the entire _Guardians_ saga, visit http://www.serpentooth.com.

